ravishing paris text by ARIANA REINES Paris is a ravishing place. If I were a slender blue being from the planet Nbiru, I would want to go there. As it is, I am a squirrelly American with roots in the Polish Holocaust, and I have been a refugee there more than once. There is a moisture in the air here that verges on sweetness, and I have experienced nothing of the kind anywhere else. It makes people look wonderful. It is part of the mysterious perfection in the arrangement of hair and scarves, but it is also an emanation, or so I often speculate, from far before 19th-century Paris seduced the world, and far before the Sun King seduced Paris away from Paris and into Versailles, something dating from a mystic Catholic simplicity or maybe going all the way back to Gaul, something Joan-of-Arc-y, something out of Bresson films, an…