Zola uses two similes to reflect on the relationship between Geneviève and Colomban, describing how it had to develop under challenging conditions:
Their fondness for each other had grown up in this ground-floor shop in old Paris. It was like a flower in a cellar. For ten years she had known no one but him, had spent her days beside him, behind the same piles of cloth, in the gloomy depths of the shop; and, morning and evening, they had found themselves elbow to elbow in the cramped dining-room, as chilly as a well.
The first simile in this passage describes the couple's early love as being "like a flower in a cellar." This comparison to a flower attempting to thrive in the absence of light is a testament to the strength of their affection, but it's also a reference to the inescapability of their environment. This simile conveys the idea that their relationship began out of necessity, much like a flower managing to bloom in an unlikely and inhospitable place.
The second simile, which likens the shop and their shared experiences in it to being "as chilly as a well," provides a more realistic version of the reality of their situation. Wells are cold, dark, and inescapable, and the shop feels much the same. They had no choice but to fall in love, as they were forced together for their entire lives. The reference to a well also suggests the depth and inescapability of their “elbow-to-elbow” circumstances, especially their grinding poverty.
As he describes the mountain of goods that arrive at the department store every day, Zola uses a simile and visual and auditory imagery to depict the sheer size and power of The Ladies’ Paradise:
Everything entered through this yawning trap; things were being swallowed up all the time, a continual cascade of materials falling with the roar of a river. During big sales especially, the chute would discharge an endless flow into the basement, silks from Lyons, woollens from England, linens from Flanders, calicoes from Alsace, prints from Rouen; and sometimes the lorries had to queue up. The parcels, as they flowed down, made a dull sound at the bottom of the hole, like a stone thrown into deep water.
The simile "with the roar of a river" compares the influx of materials into the department store’s receiving room to a natural and unstoppable force. The auditory imagery is clamorous and a little frightening. It suggests both enormous power and deafening noise, as if the store were physically sucking the parcels in like a whirlpool.
This imagery paints the department store not just as a business but as a hungry beast, always devouring the enormous and constant supply of goods. The "yawning trap of production" reinforces this, as it calls to mind the picture of a big cat’s “yawning” wide-open jaws. The simile of parcels dropping "like a stone thrown into deep water" amplifies this effect, too. It’s as if the realm inside the store is supernaturally big, exerting a gravitational pull on the packages. The comparison to stones also indicates the weight and impact of the goods, and their “dull” landing sound implies that they have a sizeable pile underneath them at all times. Lastly, the auditory signal of the "dull sound" at the bottom of the hole also gives a sense of finality, as if once the goods have entered this “yawning trap” they are actually trapped. It’s an ominous, relentless scene, one that makes the store itself seem like a malevolent and greedy monster.
Close to the beginning of The Ladies' Paradise, the narrator describes Denise's experience of being evaluated for a position in the department store using a simile. This simile refers to the way Denise feels the others around her are staring at her:
Without insisting on the girls being beautiful, they wanted them to be attractive for the sales rooms, and beneath the gaze of all these ladies and gentlemen who were studying her, weighing her like a mare being haggled over by peasants at a fair, Denise finally lost what was left of her composure.
As Denise is observed from all sides by her prospective employers and colleagues, she begins to feel as though she were about to be sold like a farm animal. The simile "weighing her like a mare being haggled over by peasants at a fair" expresses how dehumanizing these assessing stares are. They reduce her to an object of commerce rather than a person with thoughts and feelings. This comparison strips away her individuality and humanity. The department store doesn’t sell horses, but in this moment, Denise feels like she’s just another item on the shelves at The Ladies' Paradise.
The language of being "weighed" and "haggled over" implies a process of devaluation and scrutiny that is both personal and invasive. It suggests that the people of Paris value women primarily for their appearance and their ability to attract customers, rather than for their skills or intelligence. It’s not what Denise had come to Mouret’s store expecting to experience, which seems especially pertinent in this context. One of the defining characteristics of the department store was that it took the “haggling” of the marketplace out of the shopping process, replacing bargaining with its seasonal sales. Rather than arriving at a place where people behave in a more refined way than she’s used to, Denise “loses what was left of her composure” at being looked-over like an animal for her new Parisian job.
As Bourdoncle speaks to Mouret about the dangers of exploiting women, Zola uses situational irony and a simile to convey Mouret's dismissive attitude toward women:
"You know, they’ll have their revenge.”
“Who will?”
“The women, of course.”
[…] With a shrug of his shoulders [Mouret] seemed to declare that he would throw them all away like empty sacks on the day when they had finished helping him make his fortune.
The situational irony here lies in Mouret's attitude towards women, which sharply contrasts with his store's apparent celebration of them. While The Ladies' Paradise ostensibly caters to and glorifies women, Mouret's silent dismissive “shrug” reveals a different reality. His lack of concern about the women's "revenge" and the implication that he views them merely as tools for his financial gain are deeply ironic. His entire livelihood revolves around women, and yet he could not be less interested in them individually or collectively. This irony is particularly striking given that the entire success of his store is predicated on attracting and catering to the needs of women.
The simile comparing women to "empty sacks" only further emphasizes Mouret's objectifying view of women. Mouret deals in merchandise, which is brought to his store in large containers. By thinking of all women as one day being “empty sacks,” he reduces them to objects, required only as long as they serve a purpose.
When he describes the aftermath of the sales in the women’s intimates section of The Ladies’ Paradise, Zola uses a simile to compare the strewn-about clothes to the leftovers of something like an orgy:
Upstairs in the mezzanine departments the havoc was the same: furs littered the floor, ready-made clothes were heaped up like the greatcoats of disabled soldiers, the lace and underclothes, unfolded, crumpled, thrown about everywhere, gave the impression that an army of women had undressed there haphazardly in a wave of desire; [...]
The simile comparing the mess in the changing-room to "the greatcoats of disabled soldiers" and "an army of women [who] had undressed there haphazardly in a wave of desire" depicts the aftermath of the sale as both a scene of a battle and an episode of frenzied sexual energy. The imagery of clothing scattered like discarded military gear suggests that the store during the sale was itself a battlefield. This idea points to the aggression and fanaticism with which the shoppers approached the sale: it’s not just shopping, it’s a fight.
Depicting the day's aftermath as looking like the aftereffects of an orgy also suggests a link between consumerism and sexual desire. The scattered lace and underclothes, crumpled and thrown about, evoke an image of hurried intimacy. It’s as if the people who passed through the area couldn’t wait to get their clothes off and fall upon each other. This draws a parallel between the customers’ desperation to buy, and a kind of uncontrolled sexual urge. The women are so desperate to get the things they want from the sale that their hunger for them has an erotic quality. Zola's use of simile here captures the chaotic energy of this intense scene of consumerism, where acquiring things is treated as seriously as war and is hungered for as desperately as sex.
Zola uses a metaphor and several similes referring to frozen water to illustrate the exhaustion Lienárd and the other shopkeepers experience after the climactic events of the sale:
Liénard was dozing on a sea of materials in which some half-destroyed stacks of cloth were still standing, like ruined houses about to be carried away by an overflowing river; further along, the white linen had snowed all over the ground, and one stumbled against ice-flows of table-napkins and walked on the soft flakes of handkerchiefs.
The metaphor in this passage depicts Liénard dozing in the middle of a “sea of materials.” This “sea” refers to the vast expanse of merchandise that floods the store and is carried out by customers in the frenzied sales. There’s so much of it that it seems to have behaved like an untamed body of water, bursting its banks and crushing the buildings around it. The “sea” of remaining goods envelops Liénard. Where previously everything was in perfect order, after the sale, the ravenous hordes of shoppers have thrown almost everything that’s left to the ground. The comparison to "ruined houses" in the simile just after this paints a vivid picture of the aftermath of this destructive force. Even though it's an enormously successful day for the store, it looks as if it has experienced a natural disaster. Piles of leftovers teeter like “ruined buildings,” and the shopkeepers pass out from exhaustion between them.
The "ice-flows of table-napkins" and "soft flakes of handkerchiefs" continue this metaphorical “natural disaster” imagery. Zola’s language here suggests that the sale, like a force of nature, is both creative and destructive. Like glaciers refigure the land they creep over, the sales reshape the landscape of the store. Even after this hectic buying spree, the treasures of The Ladies’ Paradise are not exhausted. In fact, there’s so much merchandise left that it carpets the floor like snow, with small white “flakes” of handkerchiefs dotting the ground.
Zola uses a simile and tactile imagery to depict the aftermath of the first sale in The Ladies’ Paradise, likening the interior of the store to a post-battle scene:
Inside, beneath the flaming gas jets which, burning in the dusk, had illuminated the climactic moments of the sale, it was like a battlefield still hot from the massacre of materials.
The simile comparing the inside of The Ladies' Paradise to "a battlefield still hot from the massacre of materials" vividly portrays the chaos of the sale and the exhaustion the employees feel afterward. This comparison makes the department store into a war zone, suggesting a scene of devastation and weariness. It implies that the sale, much like a battle, has left a trail of destruction behind. The use of the word "massacre" in relation to materials intensifies the sense of destruction, portraying the aftermath not just as a mess, but as a scene of overwhelming ruin.
The tactile imagery of the store’s lamps being "still hot" amplifies the simile's effectiveness. It suggests a lingering energy and intensity, as if the blood of the battle is still hot. The description of the "flaming gas jets" burning in the dusk adds to this atmosphere, painting the scene in the dramatic, eerie colors of violence.
As Denise and Deloche walk together through the Parisian night, Zola uses several similes and some visual imagery to create a serene, contemplative atmosphere:
However, they went forward quietly, and without fear. Then, as their eyes became accustomed to the dark, to the right they could see the trunks of the poplars, like dark columns supporting the domes of their branches, spattered with stars; while to the left the water shone from time to time like a pewter mirror. The wind was dropping, and they could hear nothing but the flow of the river.
The similes in this passage evoke a sense of tranquility. The outside world—which is usually in a fervor of activity in this novel—has slowed its engine down. Everything is as still as stone. Even the poplar trees are seemingly no longer made of wood, but are "dark columns supporting the domes of their branches, spattered with stars." The similes Zola uses here make the reader feel as though Denise and Deloche are walking through a sort of natural cathedral. They have found a sacred space, one that the bustle of the city cannot enter. All is dark and still, and the only points of light come from the water shining "like a pewter mirror" beside them and the “spatter” of stars above. This "mirror" simile captures the periodic play of the meager light on the water and also points to the fact that this scene “mirrors” the rabidly active daylight of Paris in its total opposition. What is loud is now quiet, so only “the flow of the river” can be heard. What is bright is now briefly dark, so only the stars are visible.
As the sounds of construction and destruction fill the air around Bourras’s house, Zola uses a simile and personification to depict the precarious position of the little building in the shadow of the expanding department store:
It was true; the sale was due to have been concluded the day before. It had seemed as if Bourras’s little house, squeezed in between the Ladies’ Paradise and the Hôtel Duvillard, hanging on there like a swallow’s nest in a crack in the wall, would certainly be crushed on the day the shop invaded the Hôtel Duvillard; and this day had come; the colossus was encircling the feeble obstacle, surrounding it with stacks of goods, threatening to swallow it up, to absorb it by the sheer force of its gigantic suction.
Swallows are small birds that build ingenious nests, often under the eaves of houses or underneath bridges. The birds collect mud in their bills and use it to construct a hanging dwelling suspended from the side of whatever supports it. Swallows are not built to walk efficiently, and so they build these nests in secure places that can only be accessed by flight. The simile "like a swallow's nest in a crack in the wall" is a touching way of describing Bourras’s small, vulnerable house, “squeezed in” between larger buildings. This comparison conveys the fragility and precariousness of his position. Much like a swallow, Bourras is dependent on his specific economic environment for survival. This passage highlights his business’s inability to adapt to the changing commercial landscape: the enormous bulk of the department store is about to “crush” his small establishment. "Swallows" like Bourras won't survive the "new" Paris.
Moreover, Zola emphasizes the depiction of The Ladies' Paradise as a destructive, malevolent force through personification. The narrator refers to the store as a "colossus" menacingly "encircling the feeble obstacle" of Bourras’s dwelling and "threatening to swallow it up." A “colossus” is a person or object of enormous size, especially compared to other things in its environment. This personification depicts the department store as a living, conscious entity. It is actively seeking to conquer and absorb everything around it. The use of terms like "gigantic suction" also suggests this: craftsmen like Bourras must conform to the new standards of consumerism, or be dragged into their path and crushed.
When he’s describing the unbelievably lavish display of summer silks at The Ladies’ Paradise that Madame Desforges is looking at, Zola employs a simile and some visual and tactile imagery to underline the excess and grandeur of the picture. This creates a stimulating image of the opulent products on display:
In the middle of the department an exhibition of summer silks was illuminating the hall with the brilliancy of dawn, like the rising of a star amidst the most delicate shades of daylight—pale pink, soft yellow, clear blue, a shimmering scarf of all the colours of the rainbow. There were foulards as fine as a cloud, surahs lighter than the down blown from trees, satiny Peking fabrics as soft as the skin of a Chinese virgin. And there were also pongees from Japan, tussores and corahs from India, not to mention light French silks—fine stripes, tiny checks, floral patterns, every design imaginable—which conjured up visions of ladies in furbelows walking on May mornings beneath great trees in a park.
The simile here compares the “summer silks” to various objects and sensations that evoke lightness and delicacy. The silks are not just material, they’re like "a cloud" and "the down blown from trees." They are elevated above mere fabric, endowed with almost magical qualities.
The visual and tactile imagery of the passage depict an overwhelmingly vibrant scene. Visual language like "pale pink, soft yellow, clear blue" and "shimmering scarf of all the colours of the rainbow" invoke the colors of dawn and sunset for the reader. The mention of "foulards" and "surahs" lighter than air conjures a tactile sensation of supreme softness and fragility, making the reader feel the whisper-like touch of the fabrics. The mention of silks from around the world, such as "pongees from Japan" and "tussores and corahs from India," also adds to the exotic appeal the silks hold and draws attention to the global reach of the store's merchandise. Moreover, the imagery of "floral patterns" and "visions of ladies in furbelows walking on May mornings beneath great trees in a park" links the summer-weight fabrics to summer itself. The Ladies Paradise, it seems, has captured some of the world's most opulent summer moments in fabric, and has put them on display for the customers.
As Madame Marty walks away from Baron Hartmann, her rich black silks swishing and swaying, Zola uses auditory imagery and a simile to describe the sound of this luxurious rustling:
She stood up, took the teapot and filled the cups. Henriette turned towards Baron Hartmann, saying:
‘You’ll stay a few minutes longer, won’t you?’
‘Yes, I want to talk to Monsieur Mouret. We’re going to invade your small drawing-room.’
Then she went out, and her black silk dress rustled against the door like a snake disappearing into the undergrowth.
The simile in this quotation likens Madame Marty’s dress to a "snake disappearing into the undergrowth." Instead of a soft prey animal like a fluffy rabbit or a silky moth, Zola compares the rustling of her black silk dress to the sound of a snake moving through grass. This auditory imagery not only evokes a specific, recognizable sound but also subtly hints at Madame Marty’s character and the stealthiness of her actions. She is cunning, and she’s up to something in this scene. Comparing the sounds of her skirt to a “snake disappearing” suggests that it’s something clever and potentially dangerous. It's notable that Zola uses the sound of her dress to give the reader this impression. In a novel where women’s clothes and the things women own are of paramount importance, Madame Marty’s clothes betray her intentions.
The sounds of rustling here also indicate the density and richness of the silk material she’s wearing. Silk was still extremely expensive in this period, even if the department store is suffering from having ordered it in excess at this point in the book. Being able to afford enough of it in a skirt to “rustle” with the weight of folds brushing against each other would have been a strain for many people. Madame Marty doesn’t just look expensive and well-taken-care-of. She sounds like it, down to the noises her dresses make.