The other day in Bordeaux, eating lunch near the Grand Théatre before heading to the Gare St. Jean, I challenged Pater to find me a well-dressed woman -- or just any woman -- wearing colour. We watched for twenty or thirty minutes, checking out each wave of passers-by released from the tram at nearby Quinconces. Almost no colour at all. Everyone was in neutrals: blacks, greys, taupes, mushroom,