Interlude

A long, long time ago, back in the 20th century, when there was dead space on French TV, they would stick this video clip for you to patiently wait until programmes resumed.



Unfortunately I dont have this type of means to distract you, while you wait. I had all sorts of ambitions of writing about the glory of airports, and how great my dentist is. Hold your thoughts for just a little while, because I am just too busy to do anything about this this week. Meanwhile, of course, nothing prevents you from thinking ahead about said themes, I repeat once again - "airports" "dentist" in case you wanna leave a comment then.

So for your musical interlude today I thought I would give you a choice.

If you wanna be cheered up watch this one:


If you are too cheerful (stop the weed, man!), you might want to listen to Damia who really deserves a whole post, and will definitely put a downer to your day.


But hey, have a great day!

Boredom, chicks, and more chicks

This one may be a tough one to pull... One of my favourite blogs is written by The Stationary Explorer, he loves to dwell on past experiences, and a couple of entries ago he reminded me of how in my youth I spent much time being bored.

I think I was bored mostly because I did not have any siblings yet, and was brought up mostly by my grand-parents whilst my mom and dad were busy having a divorce... please no tears I survived.

Some of the most boring times I would spend was when I had to sit waiting for my grand-mother to do her job. She was then a maid for a busy couple who had no kids but had a fancy hairdressing salon right on the grand-rue in Château-Chinon. Madame Rafattin had a poodle, Monsieur Rafattin was impeccable in every way, very like Mary Poppins. They WERE a funny couple, they insisted on saying "vous" to each other.

Monsieur and Madame Rafattin were always very proud of their shop window. They really made an effort. They had themes, and the windows of their hair salon would always be dressed with the most beautiful shiny material of pastel blues and pinks, delicate musical boxes. amidst pictures of beautiful women sporting the hair cuts of the day, and of course a few vials of hair elixirs. They had a proper Christmas window, but the real treat was their Easter window. They would have a lamp heated corner where eggs lay just a couple weeks before Easter, and sure enough they would hatch and out of the shells would come a colony of coloured chicks like these, which would animate the shop window for a few days, the time their feathers went back to yellow.

What happened to the chicks once they had done they were done being cute, the story doesnt tell.

But out of that time spent sitting at the kitchen table waiting for my grand-mother to be finished doing whatever task there was to do that day, laundry, cooking, ironing, etc, came many moments spent  floating in the half conscious boredom.  This couple had a television and as a treat I would be allowed to watch the children's broadcast on Thursday afternoon. "Belle et Sébastien" was on. It is then at the tender age of 7 that I fell in love for the first time with Medhi

And when I wasnt thinking about Medhi, I would browse through the pile of old magazines that were no longer in use in the salon. These would be mostly "Jours de France", a kind of 1960's celebrity magazine. Like George Petty was to Life magazine, so was Kiraz for Jours de France. I just loved his portrayal of the "Parisiennes", and his funny captions

"He let me down crually, after he gave me a taste for luxury"

These girls were elegant, sexy, everything a little girl would dream of being later on. Looking at these pictures in this very respectable magazine had something of the forbidden about it, as I guess at the time these were a tad daring, and possibly titillating. These girls made you think of what you might want to be later in life.

At the time one of the most glamorous professions for women was to be a stewardess. They were modern women, the new sailors... possibly with a man in every airport waiting for them, goddesses who spoke several languages, and flew to unheard places on Earth. They were always immaculately dressed, and put together. Not every one could be an air hostess, that much every little girl knew. You had to have model like proportions, hence joining the air hostess corps was a ticket to being part of the new female aristocracy.

Mireille Darc, the actress, was the embodiment of the perfect air hostess.

I don't think she ever played the part of one, but original illustrator of the comics series Natacha, François
Walthéry, was inspired by Mireille Darc's physique to create his heroin (if you want my opinion, she rather looks like Falbala (on the right), from the Astérix series (another great pin-up).

I am quite sure you all recognize the infamous Emmanuelle chair in the above cover.

Ain't she sweet... see what idleness and boredom lead to when you are a little girl???

At least, I wasn't alone in my dreams, here is Jacques Dutronc singing about his dream.... which was to be an air hostess.. I wonder if he spent much time as child being bored....

De rigueur....

Sending you all lots of good luck from Ireland.

And lots of "mulla" too, where is that darn pot of gold??? I don't see any rainbow. Do you?

When women did not work...

I don't know about you but I have a memory issue. People talk of a time "when women did not work..." Well my amnesia seems to get in the way of that statement, for when was that exactly? Who were these women?

Oh wait, I have a few of them in my family. Yep, these gals never lifted a finger...

Meet Marie Louise Lemaître, my great-grand mother. See the kid on her lap? Not hers. No sirreee. She had so much time on her hands. Minding 4 kids of her own was not enough for her, in her spare time she would sew up a storm, and also go off to Paris because dontcha know that wet nurses from the Morvan were the best evah!

But wait... See this lazy-bones on the left with the dark hair and the stark look her eyes, and the flower in her hair?

Who do you think she was fooling? A hippy I tell ya. Suzanne (my grand-mother) had so much leisure time that by age 5, with her little hands she was already embroidering handkerchiefs. They do say that you turn into your parents don't they? And yes Suzanne would partake in Marie-Louise sewing activities from a very early age. Child labour?... Never :-)

Then of course came Marie-Thérèse Houschmitt, the girl with the glasses.

Could she be working? Nah, she is just helping her friends with some prototype of a blog 50 odd years ago. My mom never worked, no she just left school at 16 and embarked on a number of wild adventures at various locations - townhalls, printers presses, pretending to teach people how to type, but she was really using the Lee Strasberg method of acting strategy to get her big role in Hollywood.

Then of course came me, the bundle under Marie-Thérèse's arm. I too had acting ambitions... I was auditioning for the part of the laundry bundle.

But I ended up with being a translator which - as we know- isnt really a job, I mean if it were a real job, I would make a decent living out of it, and besides how could I spend so much time blogging???? You tell me!

I don't think the next generation of women will work either by the way. See this ? Do you think Maïté Moloney (my daughter) has any intention of working ever? She says she wants to be a "psychologist". A whah????

Love in the North

As a follow up to Raymond Peynet's ethereal vision of love, and not to forget the wind of love that blows over the world for a couple days.... I felt it was only fair to also pay tribute to another famous French illustrator, Francisque Poulbot, and his eponymous creations. A "Poulbot" is a picture of a typical "titi parisien", in other words a street kid from Paris, and since the Loire pretty much divides France between North and South, Paris, for all intents and purposes, is considered to be in the northern part of France. ( I am soo tempted to say "le NOOOORRRR" like Michel Galabru says in Bienvenue Chez les Ch'tis, but that would be a diversion from the topic at hand.)

In his paintings, his "titis" are always centre stage, but Paris is also strongly present. You often see reminders of the setting, the Eiffel Tower (above) ...

Notre-Dame...

The Arc de Triomphe.

The Pont Neuf

Interesting how bridges and benches seem to be part of lovers-lore. Why is this? Is it their hormonal "in-love"state of mind which allows them to be the only people on Earth who have time to sit down, and watch the world go by?

Interesting also how these kids, with distinctively young faces - these are not adolescents - seem to be involved with one another, in a very tender relationship. Where Peynet's pen is light and elegant, Poulbot's brush is loud and somewhat garish. Poulbots are not considered high art in France. There is something very kitch, and bad taste in a way, but also very tramp-like, Chaplin-esque about these,. This might explain why I am so fond of them.

Real life Poulbots? Hell yes, larger than life even!... Edith Piaf, a kid from the street, singing a very sad love song in English here...

And Renaud, who single-handedly put Parisian slang back on the cultural map, merci Renaud.

Spécial Paulinette :-), my favourite blog-writer, in the whole world.

Yours truly

Love in the South

February is the month of love, right? What with Valentine's Day and all that, and I have to thank Pam (your embroidery patterns are just darn cute) for reminding me of this otherwise honestly, it would have slipped my mind that this fatal date was soon approaching. 

A day, which before the martyrdom of no less than 3 Valentines, goes seemingly back to Ancient Rome lupercalia (like we care.... but this way we'll look as if we know something, thank you Messieurs Wales and Sanger).

In France, there are few artists who are as closely linked to St Valentine's Day, love, and Cupid as Raymond Peynet.

The girl and boy in his paintings are a representation of him the poet (which you may recognize because he wear an artist's hat), and her, his muse/sweetheart.

In the picture two down you see a representation of a kiosk, which is where is is meant to have met his wife, in Valence, in the South of France. It now is called "Le kiosque Peynet".

Here it is again in the background!

And look how sheltered and happy these 2 are.

Birds are the messengers of love, right? I wonder what they are doing in her petticoat here??? Oh Monsieur Peynet, you are a little too suggestive here, for someone as romantic as you!

Holey Molley or rather Lovey... dovey!!!

The "Peynet lovers" became so popular in France in the 1950's and 60's that the big wheels of commerce had to have a bite of the lion's share. Yes they made them into dolls, which I am quite certain you can now purchase for a few hundred euros each on ebay.

In 1985, the French government thought it would be a good idea to pay tribute to Peynet with this special edition stamp for Valentines Days.

Finally, look how blissfully happy they are... in a world of their own, at one with nature. Rather ethereal, but also sitting on a bench, because people who are in love, have time to sit on benches, it is a well know fact.

So much so, that George Brassens decided to tell the story of these lovers sitting on public park benches throughout the whole world.
.
Love in the North coming soon. ... Meanwhile be wise, don't forget that love is in the heart and not in purses or wallets.

Yours truly.

What could I tell you?

I could tell you about the great perversity of movies such as Bluebeard's Eight Wife (1938) 

or Myra Beckinridge (1970)....

I could tell you about series 4 of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, or season 2 of I Love Lucy

I could tell you about the new Mary Poppins scarf I just knitted

I could tell you about my great Tango/Rumba teacher Carolina Santana

I could tell you about how the individual is being swallowed by the man...yeah, mon! But good ol' Pete says it better than me (that's for you Paulinette :-).

But why bother about this when I could tell you of the wonders of my job (innocently batting eyelids to my invisible readers) and working for the global dollar and how I just love being watched over by Big Brother for every single minute of my working life for just above minimum wage. But hey, happy happy happy it's a job! Rare thing these days.

So ... 

Yours truly...