I LOVE breton shirts, and am obsessed with stripes. I would have taken on anyone that might have questioned my allegiance to this timeless pattern. But I am a lady, and I know when I’ve been bested. Kudos to Gaultier, what more can I say.
There is something so curious about seeing images of the early 20th century in color – it makes the era feel more tangible. When I initially saw these photographs of turn of the century Paris on Curious Eggs, I was struck by the fact that, somewhere in the back of my head, I seemed to think that the people of the time moved through a hazy world of sepia. I don’t think that the addition of color necessarily takes away from my romantic illusions (or delusions), but it certainly makes the era feel more “real.” It’s almost like we could hop in a zeppelin and visit, which, to be honest, is all I’ve ever really wanted.
Thank you and a huge shout out to my friend Billy Norrby for bringing this to my attention! Billy also happens to be a phenomenal painter with a spectacular sense of color, so it’s all the more fitting that this came from him.
Check out the full collection here.
A true gem from yéyé superstar Sylvie Vartan. Bon appétit!
Well hi there! It’s been a great day, and I am so thankful to the lovely folks at BreakThru Radio’s program “Biology of the Blogger” for hosting my work. If that’s how you got here, hi I love you, and I hope you enjoy my writing. Please feel free to get in touch with me on twitter at @mllefauxfrench .
Also, to the few that frequent my blog, I’d like to suggest taking some time to check out and support BreakThru! They have amazing programming and couldn’t be more up-to-date with the latest in great music.
Merci!
Erik Satie’s “Trois Gymnopédies” is the perfect soundtrack for a quiet and misty New York City morning.
The French have enjoyed a long, prosperous, and rich history. But among their many significant accolades, they should perhaps be most proud of their reputation for being excellent lovers. While the language itself is nuanced, passionate, and sexually charged, many of the natives I have encountered have been equally flirtatious and, compared to our arguably puritanical culture, sexually open and adventurous.
However like so much of Europe, France has historically been a very Catholic, and thus conservative, country. The infamous Libertine movement would not gain much momentum until the 18th century, which would mean that religion and culture would reserve sex as an act to be enjoyed only between husband and wife. Furthermore, according to historian Tony Perrottet in his book Napoleon’s Privates – 2500 Years of History Unzipped, “the true aim of matrimony was procreation,” thereby removing pleasure from the equation entirely and turning physical love into something pragmatic and boring.
Interestingly, this otherwise insidious spin on sex gave aristocratic women an incredible amount of power in the bedroom, as husbands cursed with erectile dysfunction could be charged with “injurious non-consummation” before ecclesiastical courts – one of the only ways in which a couple could divorce. And how would such a trial proceed? Naturally, a conversation would be humiliating, and with only the wife and husband in touch with the facts, uncovering the truth would have been an impossibility. No no, a conversation or interrogations would have been far too tedious – so how should we move forward? By forcing the husband to prove his ability to have an erection. Before witnesses. In court.
The team of experts that would examine the accused included priests, surgeons, and midwives. “These learned observers would carefully examine his equipment to reach an opinion on its “elastic tension” and “natural motion,” before demanding “proof of ejaculation.”" Now, many would argue that this is an unfair and potentially impossible act, as this sort of pressure could make even the most virile man lose his nerve. According to Perrottet, there are records of one humiliated man telling his examiners, “Just looking at you makes me shrivel!”
Even more horrifying for the accused, the proceedings would become public knowledge, thereby exposing the husband to the shame of losing his wife – and his reputation – in one fell swoop.
There was only one recourse available to the poor gentleman that failed the test: he could demand a ‘Trial by Congress’, in which he and his wife would copulate in front of the team of experts in an agreed upon, neutral location, thereby proving his ability to perform before the court. With the midwives located directly next to the pillows and the male surgeons and priests hiding discreetly (discreetly!) behind a partition, the man would be judged on penetration and whether or not his “emissions” were “suitable.” One can only imagine how uncomfortable this rendezvous must have been.
Aside from being a genuinely fascinating moment in history, the implications of the Catholic church giving so much power to women, let alone the women of the time, is nothing short of remarkable. Here they wanted to preserve the sanctity of marriage and to reserve it for procreation, but in reality, they offered wives a way to escape an unhappy relationship without the risk of destroying her own reputation. It was essentially the only way for her to obtain freedom without consequences.
Again, I cannot stress enough how Tony Perrottet’s research and writings have entirely influenced this piece, and urge you to check out his delightful and fascinating books.
Bisous!
Apologies for the quality of the scan, but consider this the first of many doodles by yours truly!
“It Rains in My Heart,” by Paul Verlaine
It rains in my heart
as on town and on mart,
pours down longings that start
to reign in my heart!
Oh soft ringing of rain
poured on earth, eave and pane, -
for poor heart feeling pain, -
oh the ringing of rain!
It rains without reason
in hurt heart fears have lease on.
What? – no season for treason?
Do I grieve without reason?
What most hurts me, I wait
‘Why’ not knowing, sad fate,
without love, without hate, …
On my heart lies deadweight!
