The iconic Moulin Rouge rests in Paris's racier part of town, Pigalle, nestled in between sex shops and erotic theaters that line the streets. I had anticipated visiting the Moulin Rouge, seeing it as some sort of homage to old Bohemian Paris and the many artists that frequented the Montmartre/ Pigalle area. In my mind I had envisioned a vintage front where chipped red paint and an antique windmill would shine light on an earlier time when Parisian gentlemen of the 1900s would frequent the area and be whipped into a frenzy of cabaret dancers, vibrant costumes, music and liquor.
Instead today's Moulin Rouge fell short of expectations, as time seems to have swept away its luster. The iconic wings of the rouge windmill is all that remains of the original Moulin Rouge and all the indulgences of the original cabaret club has been stripped away with time. One of these indulgences was a large stucco elephant that was part of the early Moulin Rouge and was originally built for the exhibition of 1889; the elephant was torn down when the Moulin Rouge was rebuilt in 1906.
My visit to the Moulin Rouge was a bit disappointing as today finds the Moulin Rouge more 'Vegas Tacky' than 'Bohemian Paris' and the surrounding area of Pigalle is how I imagine Amsterdam's red light district would be--sex at every turn. Today I am headed to Montmartre, that hill top district that is crowned by the beautiful Sacre-Coeur, in hopes that I will catch glimmers of the old Paris that inspired artists and writers alike.
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