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Looking at the camera, she said, "Merde alors, forgot the butter, always forget something."

The perfumer on “Emily in Paris” adds indole, an aromatic compound, to the base notes “for some depth and richness,” to his new olfactory creation, describing it as possessing the same molecular shape as “merde.”

Heureusement on peut encore écrire de la merde raciste dans un torchon illustrée par les images d'une députée française noire africaine repeinte en esclave...

He also refuses to open “merde” gifts before a show, the tokens and cards that dancers give one another for good luck, and named for, to put it politely, “manure” in French.

Leos Carax, another French filmmaker, sharpens this critique in his short film “Merde,” which is a story of a green-suited, red-haired creature that emerges from the sewers to wreak havoc on pedestrians in Ginza.