Art: Paris at the Cleaners

San Francisco is a pastel city; Caracas is gaudily bright. And Paris, for generations, has been elephant grey. But the grime that made it grey is vanishing in a flurry of scrubbing that would shame a Baltimore housewife. Reason: a law passed by Napoleon III in 1852. decreeing that all buildings in Paris should be cleaned every decade, has finally gone into effect.

The Place de la Concorde now gleams a pale ochre; the massive Corinthian columns of the Madeleine glow a soft pink; the Louvre no longer tattles of neglect. Years of recorded tourist history ("Ronald loves Irma," "Vincenza e Giorgio," "Stan from Council Bluffs. 82nd Airborne. 1945"). scribbled in the stubborn grime, is being erased by a soap that removes dirt but leaves a protective mineral covering on the stone. More than 2.300 buildings and monuments have been washed.

Privately owned structures must be cleaned at the expense of owners, though by applying to the Caisse de I'Amelioration de I'Habitat they can get loans to ameliorate their habitats. Publicly owned buildings and monuments are the government's responsibility. Says Minister of Culture Andre Malraux: "We cannot let our monuments fall to ruin when at this very moment Egypt is asking France to help save its temples on the Nile." Malraux having spoken, the Obelisk in the center of the Place de la Concorde (supposedly not cleaned since Ramses II had it inscribed in Luxor to the glory of Amon) is sporting a gantry of scaffolding, and the scrubdown has begun.

Generally Parisians approve of sending the city to the cleaners. But one landmark raises doubts: Notre-Dame Cathedral, waiting defiantly in all its historic and original grime. Says venerable Municipal Councilor Armand Massard: "It would be better to blacken Sacré-Coeur. that ugly cream cheese." Middle-of-the-rue opinion advocates a rinsing that will not render Notre-Dame stark white but merely wash behind the gargoyles' ears.