For several months now, the elegant salons of Paris' 16th arrondissement have been buzzing with gossip about the private life of French President Valéry Giscard d'Estaing. Ever since the Paris daily Le Monde noted his penchant for mysterious nighttime disappearances from the Elysée Palace (TIME, Dec. 9), a favorite Paris parlor game has been to guess where, how arid with whom the President spends his evenings. Palace officials insist that Giscard's nocturnal wanderings involve nothing more adventurous than dropping in on old friends for a drink and a chat. They contend that his yearning to escape the pressures of office briefly is just a harmless aspect of his much-touted style naturel—the flair for informality that Giscard promised to bring to French politics.
One circumstance that supports the denials: the stories are wildly contradictory. If all the rumors inspired by Giscard's style naturel were true, he would have a capacity for bilocation and legerdemain that might more accurately be dubbed "le style surnaturel." Take, for instance, his purported 5 a.m. car collision with a milk truck last September. The accident was reportedly witnessed by some on the Champs Elysées, by others in a Paris suburb. Some say they saw him driving a black Citroën, some a green Peugeot. Others knowingly assert that the vehicle was a red Maserati borrowed from his friend, Film Director Roger Vadim. According to most of the rumors, he was alone on the night of the accident. Unless, of course, it is true, as some insist, that he was accompanied by an attractive young television announcer. Several elements of the collision story obviously require further investigation; no one has been able to locate the milkman, the witnesses or the chameleon Citroën-Maserati-Peugeot. Meanwhile, the Elysée has firmly denied that any such accident took place.
Salon Savants. If, as his critics maintain, the gossip implies that the President may be a bit too indolent in office, it also suggests that he is indefatigable outside it. Since the family has remained at Giscard's old house at 11 Rue de Benouville, while he sleeps most nights at the Elysée Palace, rumors have inevitably floated about presidential liaisons. Salon savants have linked him with at least one actress, one photographer and two princesses (one domestic, one foreign). Italian Princess Domietta Hercolani and French Photographer Marie-Laure de Decker are the only two who have been honored in the past by explicit mention in the press. The unpublished catalogue of alleged paramours, however, grows daily, and threatens to become the French equivalent of the now defunct White House "enemies list" as the sought-after billet of dubious distinction.