A fashionable place for ladies to be seen

A ladies cafe on Sunday morning, full of sunlight and dark corners, chrome and straw, watercolours and waiters wearing black uniforms and white socks.

At one table, three generations of women -- mother, daugher and grandaughter. The grandaughter is in a baby carriage and the grandmother arranges with a waiter for the baby's bottle to be warmed. The waiter brings the bottle in a porcelain bowl of steaming water.

The next table has three elderly ladies speaking French. They are telling each other about their impressions of one of the 50th anniversary philharmonic concerts.

At the table behind them, two young women, one in a red leather coat and the other in a black leather coat, drink coffee. It's easy to fantasize about the topic of their conversation. One is dark, the other blonde. One is tall, the other short. Both are attractive and there is a palpable tension hovering in the air above the sugar bowl between them. They both hold cigarettes, careful not to blow the smoke into each other's eyes. They speak in low voices, clipped low tones of competition, not friendship.

At the next table there are two friends. She crosses her legs, he sits with his legs tucked under the seat. When she rises, he rises. He remains with a self-satisfied smile on his face. When she returns, he rises again.

Of course, there are men. A spokesman for one of the members of the inner ministerial cabinet, with one of the high ranking secretaries from that ministry. A pair of businessmen who end their conversation with an exchange of business cards and with one, saying to the other, "well, the ball's in your court now." It's an expression that began in basketball, found its way to diplomacy and now is entrenched in business.

But it's a ladies cafe, the kind of place where daughters-in-law meet with mothers-in-law, where sisters, sibling or not, gather. The bar has shelves made of glass and a large mirror. Most of the bottles are sweet and sticky liquers.

Coffee, tea, omelettes. A delicate menu. It's the kind of place where one can carefully sculpt, with fork and knife, a constantly diminishing sandwich of grilled toast and cheese, served on a bed of lettuce with olives and cucumbers and sliced tomatoes on the side. When the cheese has cooled, the waiter is happy to take it back for a quick microwave.

There are many such places in this city. A businessman says that they are useful. "It's important to be seen at such places. It's part of the show, to prove you're doing business."

It's a ladies cafe, but at its edges the well-dressed businessmen rendevous, their briefcases at the ready, suggesting to their next appointment that they take another table, "I'll be only a few more minutes."

The ladies pay no attention to these businessmen, unless they recognize them from the concert halls or, in the summer, from the early morning swims at one of the hotel pools. The ladies are of all ages. The men are somewhere between 30 and 60.

It's the kind of place where nobody will make an unpleasant scene, no morning drunk will weave past your table. A relatively new place, with the relatively new emphasis on style and design that makes a place relatively fashionable.

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