Letter From Tel Aviv: Embracing a very French revolution

"What IS she wearing?" Two Israeli girls, mouths open, heads craned, are sitting by the side of a deluxe swimming pool in Tel Aviv. The woman in question knows perfectly well that she is the subject of discussion. She smiles sleekly and preens herself. Her bikini is top-notch, her kaftan throw even notchier, and she sports the highest of heels. (Yes, next to a slippery swimming pool, but she has style to maintain). Chuck in, of course, a handbag which probably cost more than the GNP of a small country.

And yes, of course, she was French. The French have arrived on Israel's coastal plain in force and every place you go, you are reminded of their presence. The men, in the upmarket hotels, wear trousers in colours rarely seen outside a Rubik's Cube, their children are kitted out in adorable mini-me versions, the wives and daughters are primped and gussied up in that oh-so-irritating French fashion.

Not a tattoo in sight - too déclassé for the French middle classes - and there are signs that the rather fashion-blind Israelis are upping their game in response. Far fewer wife-beater vests are on display among Israeli males and this summer saw a flurry of polo shirts complete with upturned collar - very unIsraeli but tres, tres, French.

Restaurants are responding to the influx, too. Instead of the usual three-language menus - Hebrew, Russian, and English - you can now see French. And it's not just the top level eateries: Tel Aviv Port's Aroma café, centre of the grab-and-go foodie universe, now shows pictures of its baguettes with relevant French captions.