You know you’re at the gym in August in France because it’s just you and a handful of gay men--the only people who are demented enough to break sweat on PURPOSE during a month that has been consecrated to feasting on apricot-filled beignets in the countryside. (Watch the annoying Salon entry ad! It’s worth it!) When I arrived at the gym yesterday afternoon in the 90 degree Fahrenheit heat, the girl at the front desk handed me a towel with a look that I recognized, the same look that I used to get when I’d occasionally set foot on Paris streets in J.Crew yoga pants and sneakers IN PUBLIC, OH THE HORROR. A look that seemed to say, make no sudden movements; she comes from the same country that produced The Jerry Springer Show and Tom Cruise--she ees pairaps a leettle crazy, no?