Walking Into Maxim's Wearing Blue Faded Jeans?
How Obscene!

Très elegant!
Très chic!
I must have a peek
    before ending my holiday.
So about four
    I opened the door
        to this most famous cabaret.

“A look at the décor;
    that’s all that I want –
        nothing more,”
            my plea to the stern Maître d’.

“Be quick!
        Don’t touch les canapés.”
He slighted this wide-eyed bourgeoisie.

Walking around Maxim’s wearing blue faded jeans?
        To the guillotine!

    a shrine to high living
        for a sparkling parade
            from Mata Hari to Mistinguett.
Plus sultans and lords with jeweled ladies
    exposing white-powdered decollates.

Sipping wine in the glow
    of gold-shaded lamps,
        seated on red velvet chairs,
            crowning a meal with crepes suzette,
                delighting in a string quartet
                    amid mirrors and paintings – all rococo…

“Madame, it’s time to go!”

Walking out of Maxim’s wearing blue faded jeans?
        What a scream!