In a parallel universe, the Paris metro system doesn’t have 303 stations dotting the Paris map, it has 319. In eastern Paris, between Père Lachaise and Gambetta stations, metro line 3 rolls uphill, and before it reaches Gambetta plaza, the metro stops at a station that, alas, in our universe, is a mere fantôme, a ghost. That ghost’s name? Martin Nadaud.

A couple of years ago, I began noticing a disconcerting trend among my college-age students in the hotel and restaurant management school where I teach: they were often wearing a color combination that my generation had always shunned. Since when has wearing black and navy blue together become fashionable? What is this, a color-blind revolution? A not-so-subtle subversion of the fashion rules?

With the Cannes Film Festival nearing its close, the question on most people’s mind is "Who will win a palme d’or, or golden palm leaf?" But I’m wondering if anyone else is obsessing over these fundamental questions: How were Hitler and Mussolini involved in the creation of the festival? And what is the relationship between French cinema and the humble turnip?