French Sampler

Bailey, Jean and Kate

2012-01-28T18:18:00.002+01:00

Something phenomenal happened last Thursday, a previous post of mine generated over 3000 hits in one day, the said post is here. The preferred search word was 'Jean Shrimpton now'. The reason for this sudden flurry of interest was the airing of John McKays film, 'We'll Take Manhattan' on Britains BBC 4. The story centres around Bailey and Shrimpton's ground breaking 1962 photo shoot in New York, their love affair and the struggle to persuade stuffy old British Vogue to try something fresh, young and different.

I watched and it was a highly enjoyable frothy drama, which perfectly fits in with the trend for recent history period dramas and the vintage clothing revolution. I especially enjoyed Helen McCrorys characterisation of the slightly neurotic British Vogue fashion editor Lady Clare Rendlesham and the small appearance of Diana Vreeland, I would have liked to have seen more of her! For those of you reading overseas, here is the trailer, I am sure it has already been sold abroad and if it does not appear on your screens soon, no doubt it will be on DVD.

People are curious about Jean Shrimpton, especially the younger generation who are perhaps just starting out on their voyage of discovery, another post that received a flurry of hits is here, a post about Jean and her modelling contemporaries and what happened to them after the sixties.

In pre 1960's Britain most models were patrician beauties, plucked from the families of the landed gentry, it seems even a well brought up, middle class young lady from the home counties didn't quite cut the mustard. And if that was not enough a cheeky, working class, young photographer wanted to photograph her amidst a raw, gritty environment and pose her naturally. Below are Baileys photographs of seventeen year old Jean Shrimpton which caused such a fuss but contributed to the sixties youth quake liberation and the blurring of the social classes in sixties Britain.

And later... a polished Jean Shrimpton and one of the greatest models of all time.

Following the film was an excellent documentary on David Bailey 'Six Bars to the Beat' (how I love BBC 4, so glad this channel was saved from being axed as part of the BBC cuts). Crusty, weasy, sniggery old Bailey, he is now 73. At times he can be toe curlingly crude but I couldn't help but like him, refreshingly non politically correct and he does talk a lot of sense. Talking heads included, Jerry Hall, Catherine Deneuve and Catherine Bailey.

In the documentary Bailey declared that the only model that has the same qualities that Shrimpton had is Kate Moss, Bailey went onto to discuss how their brand of beauty is universally appealing, I can't remember his exact words but I think he mentioned how they could be the girl next door and how they are not classical beauties but beautiful. I thought I would explore this...

Just like Jean Shrimpton but for very different reasons Kate Moss did break the mould when she bounced onto the scene in 1989, her story is well known and has become fashion legend, when she was 14 years old she was spotted at JFK airport by Storm model agency founder and owner Sarah Dukas, controversy followed, too young, too thin etc. Controversy has been following Kate ever since but she was completely different to the intimidatingly beautiful, curvaceous, Amazonian supermodels who were dominating the catwalks, glossies and pop videos of the late eighties and early nineties.

Peter Lindeberghs photograph of the supermodels, British Vogue cover January 1990

Corinne Days photoshoot of fifteen year old Kate Moss for The Face magazine

Polished Kate, heading towards 40, enduringly photogenic, Mario Testino for Vogue August 2011

To further investigate Baileys claims of the similar appeal of Kate and Jean I thought it may help to see them both on film...

Young Kate auditioning for a L'Oreal commercial

Jean Shrimpton in the 1967 film privilege

There is no doubt that both women are beautiful, with incredible bone structure and both ridiculously photogenic. I wonder, will they be making a film about Kate Moss in fifty years time? As there is a sculpture in her image cast in gold and Lucien Freuds painting of her sold for 3.93million pounds, not to mention her well documented rock and roll lifestyle...I think it's a certainty.

If your still hanging in there you can see and hear more of Baileys thoughts here...

Something For The Weekend

2012-01-27T15:10:00.001+01:00

Shimmy Shimmy!

Another gem from Rhianna at The Last Doll Standing, go here to see the whole show.

Wishing you all a wonderful weekend.

XXX

Help!

2012-01-25T20:12:00.002+01:00

I love this picture, does anybody out there know who this dancer is and who this photograph is by?

UPDATE

Thank you Stephanie and Violetta, I ran it through Tin Eye and sleuthed it. It is British Ballerina Alicia Markova, taken by John Rawlings in 1944. I should have guessed it was Rawlings work, nobody did colour like him. Whilst I was there...

Paris 1946

Mary Jane Russell
1953

Alicia Markovas hand

Had some of these pictures on file for another post but I'm afraid I just couldn't help myself! I love his work, so very Mad Men or rather Mad Men so very John Rawlings.

Italian Holiday

2012-01-25T10:23:00.000+01:00

It's that time of year again when I start trying to persuade MG, that a holiday would be a good idea and Italy is never far from my thoughts. People who read this blog regularly will already know I have a weakness for thick, curving, lime washed walls with the sea just a stones throw away...

All photographs from http://www.botlea.it/

The Exiles

2012-01-23T17:57:00.000+01:00

Irving Penn

"If one lives in exile, the café becomes at once the family home, the nation, church and parliament, a desert and a place of pilgrimage, cradle of illusions and their cemetery... In exile, the café is the one place where life goes on."

Hermann Kesten

I have always loved this quote as it rings so true, especially in France. Hermann Kesten was referring to the many German and Austrian writers, artists, intellectuals, political opponents, etc. Who with the rise of Hitler in the early thirties, left Germany and settled in France.

When France declared war on Germany in September 1939 German exiles were considered enemy aliens and interned in hastily constructed camps and prisons whilst they waited to have their cases heard and hopefully be released, this process took some time, if it happened at all. In the meantime they lived in appalling conditions with disease running rife, a few of them did manage to escape. By June 1940 the Nazis had marched into France and occupied Paris. An armistice was signed and France was divided into two, German occupied France and Vichy France under the rule of the elderly Marchal Petain. The truth is both were very dangerous places to be and many French found themselves exiles in their own country.

As the Nazis were marching towards Paris, thousands were trying to flee the capital, by any means, trains were full to bursting, all roads out of Paris were clogged, vehicles were abandoned when they ran out of fuel, thousands of people slept rough in barns and fields, there was no news but many rumours which added to the sense of panic, it was chaos. Many were heading to the south or to the coasts, to try and get boats out or simply to stay with family or friends as far away from the Nazis as they could get, some had no clue where they were going, they just knew they had to leave.

Hitler put pressure on the Vichy government to round up all the German, Austrian and Czechoslovakian exiles, these people were now in grave danger, if they fell into the hands of the Gestapo they were imprisoned, sent to concentration camps or murdered by firing squads. Now thousands of French nationals also found themselves in danger, French artists, poets, writers and intellectuals were at particular risk, many of them were no longer in possession of the correct identity papers, trying to obtain the correct papers could result in arrest, they were aware they were on Hitler's list, many of them headed South to Marseilles where they shrank into the shadows, stayed in shabby back street hotels and met up with each other at the cafés, always looking over their shoulders. They were now people without a state or a homeland, they had become in effect refugees. They needed a way out.

Film Still from Casablanca

A Real Rick, Varian Fry

Meanwhile in New York 'The Emergency Rescue Committee' had been set up, they had compiled a list of around 200 artists, writers and intellectuals who they considered to be at risk in occupied Europe, the list included Picasso, Matisse, Chagall, Andre Breton, Max Ernst and Marcel Duchamp, the objective was to help them to escape.

Havard graduate and political activist Varian Fry was the man who was chosen to go to Vichy France to set up an organisation to help people escape, in fact he was the perfect choice, he was a man with a strong social conscience, he was an intellectual who had studied the classics and he spoke French and German. He arrived in Marseilles on August 14th 1940 with a suitcase, sleeping bag and air mattress, $3000 taped to his leg and a list of around 200 names. His return flight to New York had been booked for August 29th. He had around two weeks to get the job done!

Varian Fry, Andre Breton, Andre Masson, Jacqueline Lamba and Max Ernst at the CAS office.

Fry set up his organisation which he named: CENTRE AMERICAN DE SECOURS, 'CAS'. The Tom tom drums had been beating and word got out on the refugee grapevine, that a man had been sent from America to help, he soon had a long line of people queuing outside his hotel room, it was not long before he had to find an office and trustworthy staff.

Eventually he cobbled together an excellent team including a young American art student who had formerly been studying at the Sorbonne, Miriam Davenport. Varian desperately needed more funding, help soon came from the beautiful, thrill seeking American heiress, Mary Jayne Gold. Mary Jayne rented Villa Air-Bel, just outside Marseille, it became a home to CAS staff and some of the refugees (CAS clients), artists and intellectuals came to visit, there were parties and auctions, which all helped fund the clients escapes and keep up morale.

Andre Breton and Jacqueline Lamba fooling around at the Villa Air-Bel, just outside Marseilles. Breton was convinced that all the surrealists must defy the spirit of Fascism "by singing and laughing with the greatest joy"

Even the Nazis could not stand in the way of creativity, whilst waiting at the Villa Air-Bel for various visas, Andre Breton had the idea of producing a collective work of art, they would invent a new deck of cards, known as 'Le Jeu de Marseille'. The original drawings were preserved and eventually came to Andre Breton's daughter Aube, she donated them to the Musee Cantini in Marseilles, where they are on display to this day.

Leonora Carrington sandwiched between Max Ernst (left) and Paul Eluard. Lee Miller, Cornwall, England 1937

Max Ernst the Surrealist painter was one of the many artists who were imprisoned by the French in 1939 for being a German national, he was at this time living with his British lover, fellow surrealist painter Leonora Carrington, in a small French village in the south of France. With the help of Paul Eluard and the intervention of Varian Fry he was eventually released, only to be arrested again a few weeks later by the Gestapo, he managed to escape and once again helped by Varian Fry, escaped to America, with Peggy Guggenheim.

Leonora Carrington, distraught at Max's initial arrest by the French was persuaded by friends to leave France. She escaped over the Pyrenees into Spain, where she suffered a breakdown at the British embassy in Madrid. She was institutionalised in Santander where she received shock and drug therapy. Her wealthy parents intervened and sent someone to secure her release (Leonora claimed it was her old nanny) Leonora was convinced her parents would send her to a mental institution in South Africa or one of the colonies, one day she persuaded the nanny to take her shopping and managed to run away, she sought refuge at the Mexican embassy, eventually she managed to get to Lisbon, where she bumped into Max Ernst and Peggy Guggenheim who were waiting to leave for America. Leonora and Max had both been through too much to rekindle their relationship. Max went on to marry Peggy. Following the escape to Lisbon, Leonora arranged passage out of Europe with Renato Leduc, a Mexican diplomat and poet who was a friend of Picasso and who had agreed to marry Leonora as part of the travel arrangements to help her. Leonora eventually found sanctuary in Mexico and went on to become one of Mexico's leading artists.

Max Ernst speaking to immigration authorities at Ellis Island, Peggy Guggenheim looks on, July 14th, 1941

A few of the people Varian Fry helped...

"Artists in Exile", Peggy Guggenheim's apartment, New York, 1942. Front row: Stanley William Hayter, Leonara Carrington, Frederick Kiesler, Kurt Seligmann. Second Row: Max Ernst, Amedee Ozenfant, Andre Breton, Fernand Leger, Berenice Abbott. Third Row: Jimmy Ernst, Peggy Guggenheim, John Ferren, Marcel Duchamp, Piet Mondrian. Photograph: The Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

The situation was becoming increasingly risky for Fry and his clients. Obtaining exit visas for people was becoming impossible legally, the only way to get things done was to go down the illegal route, much to the chagrin of the American consulate and the Vichy government. Fry became a thorn in their sides and they conspired together to do something about him (America was still neutral at this point). He had his passport confiscated and was told it would only be returned on the condition that he left Vichy France and returned to America. He now knew what it felt like to be a refugee, his hand was forced, on 6th September 1941, almost thirteen months after his arrival in Vichy France, Fry boarded the train in Cerbere and embarked on the long journey back to America following in the footsteps of all those he had helped to escape.

CAS continued to operate but went completely underground, it's staff were now part of the resistance.

Over a period of one and a half years twenty thousand refugees had approached CAS for help, stretching his mandate as much as he dared Fry had extended the protection of CAS to more than four thousand people. Cas had given direct financial support to six hundred refugees. It had helped fifteen hundred people to leave France both legally and illegally. It had also assisted in one manner or another in the evacuation of about three hundred British officers and soldiers. CAS had set up a dozen communities around Grasse as well as woodcutting and charcoal burning enterprises in the Var forest that gave refugees not only employment but also a place to hide. From 1942 unbtil the end of the war, the clandestine CAS was able to facilitate the escape from France of another three hundred people.

Excert from Villa Air-Bel

Uggie

2012-01-21T12:08:00.000+01:00

Still from 'The Artist'

"What a cheek, just who does THAT Jack Russell think he is? The role should have been mine, MINE! Snatched from under my very nose, by THAT American upstart! And to add insult to injury it's a French made film, good job it's a silent picture, otherwise he would have never been able to carry it off. I ask you! What is wrong with these casting directors? Don't they recognise true star quality?"

"What kind of a name is Uggie anyway? Glad I am not named after an Australian sheepskin boot!"

Don't worry, he will get over it!

Here is Uggie's exclusive interiew for The Guardian...

Wishing you all a fabulous weekend.

XXX

Henri Eugène Augustin Le Sidaner. II

2012-01-13T12:17:00.000+01:00

It's a gloomy, cold January day and my thoughts are of spring, warm sunny days and eating al fresco. My blogging life at present is sporadic to say the least, I have a few projects on at the moment which are keeping me occupied, including, learning how to use the sewing machine I have recently acquired. Sewing is not one of my strong points and I have never used a sewing machine in my life, I have thoughts of making all sorts of wonderful things but at the moment I am finding it rather challenging, to say the least, thank God for u tube tutorials! On top of that I am also trying to teach myself photoshop, with the help of a few manuals, Hmm! Last but not least I am doing the research for a novel, this is proving the easiest and most enjoyable as it's mainly reading books and scribbling notes down. I am trying to fit this all in around daily life, there just is not enough time in the day!

I leave you with some more art from Henri Le Sidaner, this time summery scenes...

Wishing you all a wonderful weekend.
XXX

Southern France, A Year (or two) in Photos

2012-01-05T20:07:00.000+01:00

We have just said goodbye to 2011, I thought I would post some of my favourite snaps of the year, all taken with my compact digital camera, soon I will be in possession of an all singing, all dancing brand new, shiny, digital SLR, I am hoping my photography will improve, especially my interior shots, I may even really push the boat out and take some photos of people!

Bliss. Peace, quiet and a newspaper, Biarritz, early April

No, not spring lambs, I snapped these bow legged Pyrenean cuties in mid November

Our neighbours house, I have always coveted the daisies growing out of the wall.

My, what big eyes you have!

Nautical, on the street, Sanary.

No collection of pictures would be complete without His Nibbs

Happy New Year

2012-01-03T12:31:00.002+01:00

A bit late, I know! Although here in France New Year celebrations and greetings continue throughout January. Just want to wish you all health and happiness for 2012 and to thank every one of you who read, follow and comment on this blog.

And now for some really good news; remember this post: http://thefrenchsampler.blogspot.com/2010/09/help-free-billy-burton.html

Well, shortly after Christmas Billy Burton recieved a full pardon by the President of the Philippines and after eighteen years of incarceration in the Philippines, Billy will shortly be returning home to freedom in Britain. A great start to the New Year, for Billy and his family and friends. And of course a big thank you to his supporters, campaigners and everybody that took the time to sign the petition and send letters, which all helped towards securing Billy's release. The power of the internet when used in the right way can be a wonderful thing.

Merry Christmas

2011-12-25T08:52:00.000+01:00

Some random Christmas Eve shots, from the Provençal Coast, and of course Crusoe is helping with all the festive proceedings! More soon.

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas.

XXX

Sunset over the Mediterranean, Christmas Day.

Fact stranger than fiction or is it the other way round?

2011-12-13T22:32:00.002+01:00

Audrey Hepburn, My Fair Lady, based on the play Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw

Audrey Tautou, Coco before Chanel

More than one thing in common here, don't you think?

Henri Eugène Augustin Le Sidaner

2011-12-12T19:24:00.001+01:00

Apologies, this post is light on words as I am still busy trying to catch up with all the chores and Christmas jobs that were put off due to my horrible cold! I have been a very neglectful blogger and I hope to catch up with all your blogs soon.

I leave you with some wintry scenes from the highly underrated French artist, Henri le Sidaner and I would like to thank Jane Librizzi from The Blue Lantern, for reminding me just why I love his work so much and also providing the source for some of these images.

Something for the Weekend

2011-12-09T12:56:00.001+01:00

Every so often I come across a blog that makes me want to rip mine up and start again. I only discovered Jamie Beck and her wonderful blog; from me to you the other day, where have I been? I am enthralled by this talented, stylish and beautiful photographer and have a major blog crush. If you are not already familiar with Jamie, check her blog out, it's charming.

All Photographs by Jamie Beck from her blog from me to you.

Wishing you all a wonderful weekend.

XXX

Im Back!

2011-12-07T18:10:00.001+01:00

My Brothers extremely elegant Drawing Room

I have just returned home from a ten day stint in my home county of North Yorkshire and had the most wonderful time catching up with close family and friends, so much warmth and love, I always feel like the prodigal daughter when I return. I have to stay with my Mother, Father, Sister and Brother in equal measures, otherwise there is squabbles, once upon a time back in my student days a return visit from me would strike fear into every member of my family, (Just to put you in the picture, I am the youngest member of the family thus was always referred to as 'the baby of the family', isn't that annoying? No wonder I was BAD!) just how much washing was I bringing home? Which unsuitable boyfriend (or creature as my Mother liked to refer to them) would I be inflicting upon them, my untidiness, laziness and habit of not getting out of bed until after Midday never went down too well and there was always the danger of my friends and I deciding to throw an impromptu party. Times have changed and now I am fought over. One of the downsides of living abroad is not being close to your nearest and dearest, however much technology there is to communicate with, nothing beats seeing your loved ones in the flesh.

I am now safely back on French soil and have managed to catch the most horrible cold virus along the way, I am not up to much at the moment, other than lying prostrate on the sofa, surrounded by tissues, watching TV and old movies, reading magazines and books and dosing up with sudafed and paracetamol. I hope it passes soon as I have a house to clean and decorate and a ton of stuff to do, hope to catch up with you all soon.

A typical Yorkshire scene; cobbles, Wellington boots and 'The Girls' accompanied by friends and humans. The girls are sporting their smart waterproof coats and are eagerly waiting for the Humans to stop standing about and talking so the walk can get going!

A Return Visit

2011-11-23T20:24:00.001+01:00

"This town is the queerest place with the strangest people in it, leading the oddest lives of dancing, newspaper reading and dining".

That's what Charles Dickens said about my home town, on a visit in 1858.

The restaurants have been booked, the dancing arranged and the newspapers ironed.

I will see you there.

Tim Gustard

Wishing all my American friends a Happy Thanksgiving.

XXX

Fabulous Photographer, David Seidner

2011-11-20T16:52:00.001+01:00

The Debutante 1994

David Seidner is one of my favourite photographers so choosing works to put in this post has been quite a challenge. David was an artist and his work really draws you in, his love of history is apparent, most of his inspiration comes from the past, and he continues to be an inspiration to many today. Sadly David was taken too soon, claimed by Aids in 1999, had he lived, there is no doubt that he would have been one of the greatest artists/photographers around.

To read a full biography on him go here.

Betty Lago, Chanel 1986

YSL

Jessye Norman, 1995

Betty Lago, Azzedine Alaia, 1986

Guitar 1985

Paloma Picasso, Jardin de Modes 1987

Daniela Stinea, 1987

Ahn Duong, YSL 1986

Rosima with Vase 1984

Anne Rohart, YSL 1983

For YSL 1983

Francine Howell, 1987

Dragana Kunjadik, 1988

Jaques Fath, "Caran d'Ache" 1990

Taya Thurman Mme. Gres 1980

Mme. Gres/Peinture, 1991

Suzanne McClelland 1994

Louise Neri, 1999

Honor Fraser, 1994

Alexandra Brown, 1994

Bernadette Jurkowski 1995

Something For The Weekend

2011-11-17T16:08:00.001+01:00

Belle and the Boys, Ferdinando Scianna 1996, (From the 1996 Lavazza Calender)

An American Girl in Italy, Ruth Orkin 1951, read the story of this photo here

Wishing you all a happy weekend.
XXX

Lisa Fonssagrieves-Penn, Artist, Muse and Model

2011-11-17T13:01:00.001+01:00

Irving Penn

Lisa Fonssagrieves-Penn, born Lisa Birgitta Bernstone, in Sweden 1911 has often been described as the worlds first supermodel, although there is some truth in this she was so much more than just a model, she was also a dancer, artist, photographer and sculptress as well as model and muse. Her name might not trip so easily off the tongue as later more famous models but almost every image she appears in is iconic. This was no accident, with her background as a dancer and artist she knew how to move and how to turn a fashion image into an art form. Rather than just turning up for a shoot, she worked with the photographers helping to create the image and it's no wonder that some of the worlds greatest were queuing up to work with her. For a career that is renowned for having a short shelf life, Lisa's modeling career lasted around twenty five years, she modestly described herself as "a good coat-hanger".

I have found a rather interesting interview by David Seidner from Bomb 1985...

Fernand Fonssagrieves 1930's

David Seidner How did you initially get from Stockholm to Paris?

Lisa Fonssagrives-Penn Originally I went to Berlin to study dance with Mary Wigman. She had a sort of comprehensive art school where we not only studied dance but studio art, art history, and everything pertaining to art in general. My parents were very supportive of the arts, in fact my childhood vacations were spent driving through Europe with them, visiting museums. My father painted and encouraged us a great deal, me and my sisters. My mother too was very creative. She made all our clothes and created such an atmosphere of magic and beauty that all throughout this enchanted childhood I wondered how I could possibly do anything better than what I was living and make something of myself. I painted and sculpted and danced as a child so when I heard about Mary Wigman’s school, it sounded so ideal that I wrote to her and she wrote back asking me to come. So my parents sent me. Then I returned to Stockholm and opened up a school of dance. There was a very well known choreographer in Sweden at that time called Astrid Malmborg. She invited me to participate in an international competition in Paris and we went and won some kind of honorary mention. I immediately fell in love with the city and decided to stay and study other forms of dance besides modern, so I enrolled in ballet classes with a Russian woman called Princess Egorova…a fantastic teacher. Mia Slavenska was in the class too; she danced so beautifully! What an inspiration. About that time I met my first husband, Fernand Fonssagrives, who was also a dancer, and we went together to people’s homes to give private lessons. One day we were coming home after a very long day, and in the elevator (we lived on the 10th floor), a man told me that he was a photographer and asked if I would like to model hats for him. I was terribly shy but flattered that he would want me to pose. I was so young and naive. Anyway, I did these pictures with this man called Willy Maywald, and my husband took them up to Vogue. They asked me to do a test with Horst and I arrived terrified. I had never seen a fashion magazine, I didn’t know what fashion was. I made all my own clothes and I remember the suit I was wearing, dark brown wool, and I arrived so frightened with my hair long and wild and completely unmanageable. No one knew what to do with my hair. But it was my hands that troubled me most; what to do with one’s own hands while posing. And even though Horst himself was so young and inexperienced, and made me feel so confident, I still had no idea of what to do with myself.

Fernand Fonssagrieves 1935

DS How did you learn to move the way you did? Was it natural or were you imitating things you saw in other women?

LFP After that test with Horst I went straight to the Louvre and studied how differently dressed people did different things. Especially in evening clothes. The next day, Vogue asked me to do a sitting and we had the most exquisite gowns by Alix and Lelong. It must have been about 1936, or 7. I would imagine what kind of woman would wear the gown I was wearing and assume different characters. I would look at myself in the dressing room mirror before going on the set and instinctively try to solve the photographer’s problems. I would look at the cut of the dress and try different poses to see how it fell best;, how the light would enhance it, and basically try to create a line the way one starts a drawing. I would objectify myself and become more of a director than an actress. I became this girl and not Lisa Fonssagrives. So that when I saw the contacts I would think, There that girl stands correctly, there she looks awkward…The photographer of course would have a lot to do with how one moved. Huene and Hoot created a kind of reality within a reality. Often they constructed sets for the type of woman who would wear the clothes to be photographed. There was time to prepare and time to work, and the sense of collaboration and camaraderie was marvelous. It was also a kind of game, that exchange that takes place through the lens. That is why I hate the word “shooting.” It implies something so one-sided and impersonal. It was never a “shooting,” but a sitting or a seance. I was terribly serious about being responsible and even studied photography to learn what the problems might be. I would stand before the camera on a set and concentrate my energy until I could sense it radiate into the lens and feel the photographer had the picture. It was very hard work! There were no strobe lights in those days, but very hot spots, often live thousand watts on either side of you and the exposures were long. You could feel the sweat trickling down your face and the assistant would come over and hand you a towel. In fact I remember one time in New York in the ‘50s when I was modeling fur coats in the summer. And there were no air conditioned studios then. It was so hot that I just fainted. And they propped me right back up and I went straight back to work. Can you imagine what would happen today if a model fainted on a set?

Fernand Fonssagrieves Le Plage de Cabasson 1936

DS The approach was certainly much more serious then. Did you think of yourselves as making more than just a fashion photograph? Was the idea of making art ever present?

LFP It was never an issue. But making a beautiful picture is making art, isn’t it? Especially with Huene, one really had the impression of creating something. He was very considerate, George Huene. He would set tile lights up before one arrived on the set, using a stand-in. So one was led from the dressing room onto a very dark, dramatic set with a column or stairway or some other greek-inspired element, and there was silence. It was like some mystic ritual. He spoke very little and in a very low voice and there was only one assistant, who moved like a cat. No one was allowed on the set in those days, not even an editor.

Sailors Hat 1949

DS Wasn’t Fernand Fonssagrives a photographer?

LFP Yes he was. Just when I began modeling, he had a back accident and had to stop dancing. I gave him a Rolleiflex and he started to take pictures. Between the collections, there were endless vacations and we spent a lot of time traveling. Fernand photographed me constantly and sold the photographs to magazines all over Europe. In those days, a picture did not have to be assigned to be published. If it was beautiful the magazines would run it.

Fernand Fonssagrieves 1949

DS How did you end up in New York?

LFP We had taken a trip to Sweden and were on our way to New York when war was declared, so we decided to stay in America. Eventually my marriage dissolved and I began taking photographs for Ladies’ Home Journal. I lived in one of those big old apartments on Central Park West and had a darkroom where I did all my developing and printing. In fact, when I met Irving [Penn], we were both doing experiments with ferrous cyanide to whiten the image and dissolve the outline of form. Eventually, after I remarried, my darkroom became a nursery, and all my prints had to be ordered. They were constantly late for the assignments so I finally gave it up.

DS And you continued modeling?

LFP Yes, mostly for American Vogue. This was in the early ‘50s and by the mid-’50s, I began designing clothes. At first it was just an occasional dress for one of my husband’s advertising campaigns, but then people began to special order evening gowns, and suddenly I found myself designing a line of at-home clothes for Lord and Taylor. Eventually I did sportswear for them too. This lasted a good six years. Eventually we had to move from Central Park West because they were tearing down the building, and since the dining room was my atelier, and I wasn’t allowed to have a business in our new apartment, I just stopped…wanted to do something else. I began spending more and more time in my sculpture studio in our house in Long Island, where previously, we had only spent weekends. I also enrolled in the Art Students League to hone my drawing skills. Finally we moved completely to Long Island, so I could spend more time in the studio without having to commute.

Fernand Fonssagrieves

DS When did you first return to Paris after the war?

LFP In 1950 to do the collections with my husband. We had the most beautiful daylight studio on the Rue de Sevres. We’ve been back to Paris almost every year since.

DS Weren’t you petrified when you hung off the Eiffel Tower for Blumenfeld?

LFP No, I was too young and too strong. I was a dancer and a skier and very athletic. But I was frightened on another sitting when I had to parachute from a very high exhibition tower.

DS What a contradiction in terms. You presented to the world such a sophisticated, almost decadent image of yourself, and you are in reality very wholesome.

LFP I know. Whenever I would come home after a vacation, rested, Vogue used to say to me: “We can’t use you for at least 10 days, you’re much too healthy looking.”

Erwin Blumenfeld 1939

DS And did you work with Blumenfeld in New York too?

LFP Yes, in the ‘50s. He was marvelous. He made you feel so beautiful. He used to hold my face in his hands like some fragile flower, so gentle, to pose it in the right light. He lived and worked at the Gainsborough Studios at 222 Central Park South, where I had lived when I first arrived in New York. It was easy in those days to find apartments like that, and would you believe there was never any problem finding parking? In fact, you could pull your car right up in front of your door, and just leave it there overnight.

Lisa's hands by Horst

Louise Dahl-Wolfe

Lillian Bassman

Toni Frissell

William Klein, Smoke and Veil, 1958

Irving Penn

Irving Penn

Thank you all so much for your lovely heartfelt comments on my previous post, I was really touched.

Grab Your Glasses Dahlings! French Sampler is Two

2011-11-15T19:44:00.001+01:00

Norman Parkinson, photo shoot for Vogue at the former Paris home of...actually I will let you guess, if you need a clue look at the photographs on the piano.

It's two years ago today, that I tentatively put finger to keyboard and wrote my first blog post, after I pressed the publish button, I thought to myself, well it's out there now. I kept checking my post to see if there were any comments, but there were none, I considered deleting it and forgetting about the whole thing but something made made me persevere. My blog did not have a raison d'etre in fact it still does not know what it wants to be when it grows up, let's just say French Sampler is continually evolving.

The thing that amazes me the most about the blogging process are the friendships and support I have made and received from fellow bloggers, readers, commenter's and people who follow this blog, you guys are wonderful. Your blogs continue to; inspire, educate, make me think, make me laugh and sometimes cry, have my jaw dropping by the sheer beauty of your content, poignancy of your words and your boundless creativity, and yes, all too often you make me want to part with my money! You are an incredible bunch of talented individuals, I raise my glass and I make a toast to you, cheers.

Waldeck, Make My Day, For No Reason Other Than I Love It

2011-11-12T22:16:00.001+01:00

From the album Ballroom Stories

When I first saw the video it reminded me of something else, it reminded me of this...

From the film 'Frida'

Oh and whilst we are on the subject...

From the film 'Easy Virtue'

Wishing you all a happy weekend.

XXX

Cocooning

2011-11-10T17:37:00.001+01:00

The lovely Jean Shrimpton, all cosied up. Dressed by Yves Saint Laurent, photo taken by David Bailey for Vogue 1964.

Au Revoir Loulou

2011-11-06T17:42:00.000+01:00

Loulou de la Falaise
4th May 1948 - 5th November 2011

Great style speaks for itself...

Loulou talks about her collaboration with Oscar de la Renta

Au Revoir Loulou.

Something for the Weekend

2011-11-04T18:14:00.001+01:00

Cecil Beaton and Jean Shrimpton by David Bailey

Cecil Beaton and David Bailey

Wishing you all a wonderful weekend.

XXX

Greyhounds

2011-11-01T20:34:00.002+01:00

Erté

The Greyhound, one of the oldest breeds; beautiful, elegant, loyal, gentle, kind and frequently depicted in art...

The greyhound has deep roots in the history of the world. Evidence of the existence of greyhounds over 4,000 years ago is found in murals, sculpture and paintings of dogs strikingly similar to the hounds we see today.

Greyhounds claim descent from the desert dogs of the pharaohs and Arab sheiks. These ancient dogs were held in high regard in the Middle East and were the companions of Egyptian and Arab princes. Etchings of greyhounds have been found on the walls of the tombs of ancient pharaohs. The pharaohs prized greyhounds both as pets and hunters. The Bedouins, too, so admired the greyhound that it was the only dog permitted to share their tents (a high honour in nomadic tribes) and to ride atop their camels.

Bedouin with Salukis, relatives of the modern day Greyhound and the oldest domestic dog breed in the world.

Greyhounds are the only canine mentioned in Holy Scripture. In the writings of King Solomon (considered to be the wisest of the wise) greyhounds are described as one of the four mighty beings no one should go against (Proverbs 30:29-31).

Greyhounds were introduced in England just prior to the ninth century through the many conquests, crusades, and wars with Middle Eastern tribes. Their speed, agility, and keen eyesight made greyhounds highly prized as sporting dogs by British royalty. Canute enforced laws which stated that only free men could own and hunt with greyhounds. These restrictions, enacted to keep poachers out of royal forests, became known as the "Forest Laws."

Misse and Turlu, The Greyhounds of Louis XV

Eros, Prince Albert's favourite Greyhound, Sir Henry Edward Landseer, 1841

Thomas Gainsborough, portrait of Elizabeth Jackson, C 1760, stroking a young Greyhound

Marchesa Luisa Casati, Giovanni Boldini

Jean Gabriel Domergue

Margaret Gorman, the first Miss America, with her Greyhound 'Long Goodie' 1925

Today Greyhounds are used for racing and hunting unfortunately all too often there are reports of extreme cruelty, abandonment and worse. Earlier today I was reading about the plight of the Galgos (Spanish Greyhounds):

The Spanish Greyhound, or Galgo, is one of the most persecuted dog breeds. Galgos are used to hunt hares in the Spanish countryside. They spend their lives in damp, tiny, dirty holes or windowless shacks deprived of daylight, exercise and affection. They are typically fed only water and stale bread. At the end of the hunting season, countless are abandoned or worse.

Sadly, the Galgo’s native land still views it as a second-class animal and few Spaniards will own them as pets. They are bred carelessly and used for hunting by galgueros (Galgo handlers). At the end of the hunting season in Spain, the Galgos deemed worthless or too costly to maintain are destroyed in a variety of inhumane ways – including being hung, dumped into abandoned wells, shot, and even burned to death.

The lucky ones are rescued by a handful of shelters in Spain, operated by dedicated individuals. Almost all of the resources to help the dogs come from outside of Spain, namely the U.S., U.K., Belgium, Denmark, France, Holland and Germany.

There are a handful of Spanish shelters dedicated to saving the Galgos and other unwanted animals of Spain. Although more and more galgueros are willing to give their unwanted dogs to the shelters, the abuse and torture of Galgos continues. Organizations like GRIN are dedicated to the welfare of the Spanish Galgo and sighthounds worldwide, and assist the Spanish shelters with adoption, veterinary care, and fundraising.

I have been looking at some horrific images today, I will spare you the details, I was in tears at one point. Fortunately there are many organisations all over the world who rescue sight hounds and try to re home them. Greyhounds make wonderful pets, people seem to be put off them because they are under the misapprehension that Greyhounds need a lot of exercise, like all dogs they do need exercise but nothing excessive, they are actually rather lazy and enjoy nothing better than lounging about, they can exist perfectly happily in apartments and like to give and receive lots of affection. I would love a rescue sight hound as a companion for Crusoe, he would love a girlfriend! I just have to persuade MG. I was looking at galleries of the dogs up for adoption...more tears, I want them all.

http://galgorescue.org/
http://www.galgonews.com/
http://levriers.net/

http://www.retiredgreyhounds.co.uk/
http://www.greyhoundrescue.co.uk/

http://greyhoundgap.org.uk/

http://www.greyhoundsinneed.co.uk/topFrame.htm
http://actuanimaux.com/

www.gap.grv.org.au

If you would like me to include an organisation, let me know and I will add it to the list.

Bedouin with Salukis

Haunting Inspirations

2011-10-30T18:50:00.002+01:00

Glamis Castle, Angus, Scotland, home to Michael Bowes-Lyon, the 18th Earl of Strathmore and Kinghorne. Birthplace and childhood home of Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother. Reputedly one of the most haunted castles in Britain. William Shakespeare chose Glamis Castle as the setting for 'The Scottish Play'. I can't bring myself to write the true name of the play, old habits die hard and I am a bit superstitious!

Top Withens, Nr Haworth, West Yorkshire, the plaque below explains...

Whitby Abbey, Whitby, North Yorkshire, easy to see why it inspired Bram Stoker to write Dracula.

Daphne du Maurier at her home, Menabilly, Cornwall. The house she fell in love with, the house that inspired Mandelay and Rebecca.

I hope you will all be hauntingly inspired this Halloween.

XXX

Nice, The Friendliest City in France?

2011-10-28T17:05:00.000+02:00

Crusoe on the Promenade des Anglais

A slight intermission in blogging due to a spur of the moment decision for an interlude in Nice. I have driven through and round Nice many times but this was the first time I have actually visited, and yes, I think it possibly is the friendliest city in France. The friendly, laid back attitude of the locals did not just extend to us, Crusoe has never had so much attention, he was admired and fussed over wherever we went, bar and restaurant staff could not do enough for him, his every wish was catered for, even fellow diners at the local restaurants and cafes were eager to indulge him by feeding him titbits, if like us you like to travel with a furry, K9 friend, Nice is the place to go.

The Royal Salon, The Negresco Hotel

The friendliness, laid back attitude and love of dogs is apparent even in the smartest hotel in town; The Negresco, although unfortunately we did not reside there we did pop in for a look round and an early evening coupe de Champagne. We headed for the bar but we spied the resident cat in there, fortunately before Crusoe spotted him, now Crusoe positively loathes cats and if we had taken him in there all hell would have broken lose and I really don't think the other patrons of the bar would have appreciated an impromptu re-enactment of Tom and Jerry. We went in search of the other bar, located in the Carousel restaurant, we were warmly greeted by Madame La Patronne; Jeanne Augier, the rather eccentric owner, she just happened to be dining in the restaurant as we arrived, she is The Negresco. Madame Augier and her hotel have a rather fascinating story; here. I found the Carousel restaurant slightly bizarre it is just like being on a carousel, with the music and horses to match, we ordered two coupes, unfortunately, the Champagne was flat and my glass was chipped, we informed the waiter, who opened a new bottle and brought us two fresh glasses. Needless to say without having to ask a very large bowl of water was served to Crusoe.

The rest of the time was spent exploring, with many eating and drinking stops, I especially loved the old town, the colours and the architecture are magnificent, bearing in mind that Nice was part of Italy until 1860, sometimes it's hard to figure out if you are in an Italian town or a French one.

The other highlight for me was the huge flea market in the Course Saleya, held every Monday, I could have had a field day, there were some fine antiques on offer and the vendors were perfectly happy to haggle, so there are plenty of opportunities to bag a bargain, I wondered around in my element until the market just about wrapped up. Due to the space limitations of a two seater sports car with tiny boot space, my only purchase was a beautifully made mirrored and chrome, hexagonal Art Deco tray (something I have been after for a while) haggled down from 50 to 25 Euros, next time I am coming in a van!

Crusoe, in Nice, working his baby seal impression, he has no shame!

Wishing you all a wonderful weekend.
XXX

Fabulous Photographer, George Hurrell

2011-10-18T14:57:00.000+02:00

Bette Davis

When you think of the Golden age of Hollywood you cannot help but think about the wonderful photographic images of the stars. Image was everything in old Hollywood, important for the studios and important for the stars, nothing less than perfect would do, there was not much room for gritty realism, with the great worldwide depression of the thirties people had enough of that in their lives, they looked to Hollywood for escapism and to fuel new aspirations. The stars could not look like mere mortals, they had to look like Gods and Godesses. George Hurrell was one of the best photographers in the business, a creative force with lighting, skilled at sculpting faces with shadow and a master at retouching. He did not go in for the girl and boy next door look or the cheesecake, pin up photographs that became so popular in the late forties and fifties, his genre was pure glamour, he was in the business of creating icons...

Bette Davis

The man dubbed the "Grand Seigneur of the Hollywood Portrait," was born in Covington, KY, across the river from Cincinnati, in 1904. By the time he was eight, young George Hurrell had developed an interest in painting and drawing. He fell into photography almost by accident, originally learning how to use a camera so that he could photograph his paintings.

After studying at the Art Institute of Chicago, Hurrell was commissioned to photograph paintings and painters in Laguna Beach, CA art colony in 1925. Hurrell moved west hoping to continue his art studies. Before long, however, taking pictures took the place of painting pictures as he found more work shooting portraits.

Norma Shearer

One of Hurrell's first subjects was the famed aviatrix Poncho Barnes. Through her, he met silent-screen star Ramon Novarro, who commissioned a series of portraits from Hurrell. Thrilled with the results, Novarro showed off his new stills to co-workers at MGM, where they caught the eye of leading lady Norma Shearer. Shearer was desperate to convince her husband, MGM production chief Irving G. Thalberg, that she could generate enough sex appeal to play the lead in The Divorcée. She hired Hurrell to take some sizzling photos that landed her the role. Thalberg and Shearer were so impressed with Hurrell's work that he was hired as head of the MGM portrait gallery in 1930.

Norma Shearer

For the next two years, Hurrell photographed every star at MGM, from Joan Crawford, Clark Gable, and Greta Garbo to Wallace Beery and Marie Dressler. His work set a new standard for Hollywood portraits. It even inspired a new name for the genre — glamour photography.

Norma Shearer

After a disagreement with MGM publicity head Howard Strickling, Hurrell left to set up his own studio on Sunset Boulevard. The stars flocked to Hurrell for portraits.

Greta Garbo

But movies remained Hurrell's first love. After six years, he moved to Warner Bros., helping build the careers of such stars as Bette Davis, Humphrey Bogart, Errol Flynn, and James Cagney. Hurrell moved to Columbia, where he shaped Rita Hayworth's image.

Rita Hayworth

Marlene Dietrich

After service with the First Motion Picture Unit of the U.S. Army Air Force, where he shot training films and photographed generals at the Pentagon, Hurrell returned to Hollywood, but soon found that the old style of glamour photography had fallen out of fashion. He relocated to New York, where he continued shooting advertising and fashion lay-outs through the 50s.

Hedy Lamarr

Tallulah Bankhead

Veronica Lake

Carol Lombard

Myrna Loy

In 1952, Hurrell returned to Hollywood and started a television production company with his wife, Phyllis. It was located on the Disney lot. After two years, he returned to New York. He settled in Southern California permanently in 1956, eventually moved back into the film industry as a unit still man.

Jean Harlow

Beginning in 1965 with an exhibition at New York's Museum of Modern Art, his work has been showcased at museums throughout the world. He published The Hurrell Style, with text by Whitney Stine, in 1976, followed by other commemorative books and special-edition prints of his work. It was during these years that he shot stars like Liza Minelli, Paul Newman, and Robert Redford. Even after his retirement in 1976, he continued to shoot portraits, adding to his portfolio such representatives of the new Hollywood as Sharon Stone, Brooke Shields, and John Travolta. Among his last assignments were photographing Warren Beatty and Annette Benning for Bugsy, Natalie Cole for the best-selling "Unforgettable" album, and a fashion layout with Jennifer Flavin, his last photographic subject.

Jean Harlow

During the last years of his life, Hurrell worked with producer J. Grier Clarke and producer-director Carl Colby on Legends in Light, the first major retrospective of his work. George Hurrell died of cancer in 1992.

Lupe Velez

Joan Crawford

Joan Crawford

These two photographs of Joan Crawford, demonstrate Hurrells retouching talents, today airbrushing and digitally enhancing photographs is a matter of pressing buttons but in the early days, it was a painstaking process, done by hand and often took hours.

Gene Tierney

Katherine Hepburn

Susan Hayward

Barbara Stanwyk

Text Source from: http://www.hurrelleditions.com/biography.html

Indian Summer

2011-10-16T15:45:00.000+02:00

Philip Wilson Steer, Young Woman on the Beach, 1886. Musée d'Orsay Paris. A particular favourite of mine.

Down here in the Pyrenees we are experiencing an Indian summer, only the falling leaves and colder nights, give the game away that it is in fact autumn.

Hope your all having a fantastic Sunday.

XXX

Renée Perle Redux

2011-10-11T13:14:00.000+02:00

My fascination with Renée Perle, Jaques Henri Lartigues most famous muse continues. She is almost as mysterious as the Mona Lisa, we know very little about her. She was with Lartigue for two years and she painted, I suspect she was influenced and encouraged by Lartigue and the artistic crowd he ran around with, she probably felt she needed to explore her own artistic capabilities. These photographs by Lartigue are of Renée in Lartigues studio in Paris with her work. The paintings are naive and as you can see she had a tendency to paint portraits in her own image, whether this was because she was narcissistic or merely practising with what she new best and felt comfortable with is something we shall probably never know.

I would love to know what happened to her after her break up with Lartigue, the only information that I have managed to unearth is she died in the south of France in 1977. She must have married as she did have a step daughter who had an oil painting of Renée, all Renées carefully preserved belongings and collections were dispersed by the Paris auction house Tajan in 2000 and 2001. One thing we do know is that she has been immortalised by Lartigues photographs. Renées image, great personal style and mystique continue to inspire...

Alexi Lubomirski for German Vogue March 2009

Strange to think if Lartigue had not met Renée by chance in Paris in 1930, she would be a forgotten lady, sunk without trace.

To see previous posts on Renée go here

The Golden Age of Travel

2011-10-07T16:43:00.000+02:00

Last time my Mother came to stay, on the morning of her departure I was awoken at 5am in the morning by the sound of her pacing heels clicking up and down on the parquet floor outside our bedroom. We did not have to set off for the airport until 7 am but she was anxious. Not of flying but the general process that modern travel now entails. She comes from a different age, an age where terrorism was not a threat to travellers, dressing up to travel was the norm (as in her words "you never know who you might meet" to this day my Mother always looks fabulous when she travels and when I have travelled, following my Mothers example, I have nearly always been upgraded). Where along with a handbag, ladies also carried a vanity case as hand luggage, filled with necessary toiletries, cosmetics, medicines, jewellery and fresh lingerie, for freshening up on route or just in case the checked luggage did not turn up at the intended destination. It was an age when the comfort and well being of passengers was equally as important as the profits. Now frankly my Mother finds the whole process stressful. Nowadays you have to pay an awful lot of money to get the kind of service and courtesy's that previous generations expected as the norm. For example one UK airport now charges £2.00 to all cars merely dropping off or picking up relatives and friends outside the airport terminal, regardless of how brief the stay is, I dare say other airports will soon follow suit.

When one was travelling for pleasure the journey used to be as important as the destination but today it's all about the destination. Necessary but stringent airport security, the advent of low cost travel, increasing travelling populations, a general drop in standards and cuts due to the current economic climate all have to be factored in. I don't think many of us get excited about the journey any more.

It's no wonder so many of us get nostalgic about how it used to be, especially rail travel, my last UK train experience was expensive and dire.

Sweethearts embrace, Britain, WWII

Of course there are ways to make todays travel experience more palatable, thanks to the internet, most of us are in charge of our own travel arrangements, we can shop around for the best deals, check up on the latest security requirements and with careful and cunning packing can beat low cost airlines extremely stingy baggage allowances. I do recommend dressing well but comfortably because you just never no who you may meet or when you might be upgraded.

Orient Express

For the nostalgic amongst us there are still opportunities for glamorous travel, if you have deep pockets the Orient Express is still number one for luxurious travel to beautiful destinations.

The Poppy Line

In Norfolk, Britain you can relive the past and take a very reasonably priced nostalgic trip on a vintage steam train on the Poppy Line, over stunning countryside, you can even dress up in vintage as amongst other things they hold a 1940's weekend and period murder, mystery events.

Le Train Bleu

And my particular favourite would have to be lunch or dinner at Le Train Bleu at the Gare de Lyon in Paris, it's the full glamour, old world travel experience whether your catching a train or not.

If your travelling this weekend, by any means, I wish you Bon Voyage.

XXX

Something for the Weekend

2011-09-29T11:31:00.001+02:00

Cecil Beaton

Leombruno-Bodi

Elsa Martinelli, Henry Clark

Gloria Vanderbilt, Horst 1941

Not quite the weekend but nearly! Wishing you all a wonderful weekend.
XXX

Cecil and David

2011-09-27T13:43:00.000+02:00

Peter Schlesinger

In 1969, David Hockney was asked by Vogue to do a drawing of Cecil Beaton, David went to stay with Cecil for three days at Reddish...

"To begin with I was utterly appalled, having remained in some romantic but extremely uncomfortable pose for a great deal too long, when I saw an outline in Indian ink of a bloated, squat, beefy businessman. He laughed. No it wasn't very good, and he embarked upon another which turned out to be just as bad"

"About eight horrors were perpetrated while the days advanced until, finally, something rather good emerged".

"It is always fascinating to see someone as remote as oneself working in the same field. I was intrigued to see him admiring things that I like from a completely different point of view. We could not be farther apart as human beings and yet I find myself completely at ease with him and stimulated by his enthusiasm. For he has this golden quality of being able to enjoy life".

"He is never blasé, never takes anything for granted. Life is a delightful wonderland for him; much of the time he is wreathed in smiles. He laughs aloud at television and radio. He is the best possible audience, though by no means simple. He is sophisticated in that he has complete purity. There is nothing pretentious about him; he never says anything he does not mean. In the world of art intrigue he is a complete natural".

"After dinner at Dickie Buckle's, David talked of the coming of the Golden Age. He had read many philosophers and has thought a great deal. In the next forty years all will change. The computer will do away with work; everyone will be an artist".

A recent photograph of David Hockney

Excerts from Cecil Beatons Diary, 1963-74 The Parting Years.

Cecil in the Picture

2011-09-26T17:35:00.000+02:00

Cecil, Mick Jagger, Anita Pallenberg, on the set of Performance, 1968

Cecil, Mick Jagger

Cecil, David Hockney at Reddish 1969, Peter Schlesinger

Cecil, Bianca Jagger 1978

Fenella Fielding

2011-09-25T20:25:00.000+02:00

Fenella Fielding in Carry On Screaming

"She wowed Noel Coward, fascinated Fellini and seemed destined to become a huge star. But after a vampish turn in 1966's 'Carry on Screaming', Fenella Fielding's film career never recovered".

Recently I watched an excellent documentary from BBC4's time shift series, 'Hotel Deluxe', all about the history of the deluxe hotel. What made it extra special was the narration, beautifully delivered in the unmistakable, seductive tones of Fenella Fielding. It was so good to hear that voice again, and what a voice, a perfect English cut-glass accent with a seductive huskiness that makes men melt and women envy, I am not aware that I have heard it in advertising but I would be very surprised if La Fielding has not had offers, it's the kind of voice that could persuade you to buy or do anything.

I first became aware of Fenella Fielding when as a child I watched her in 'Carry on Screaming', the film had a lasting effect on me, and is my favourite carry on, mainly due to Fenella, I have never forgotten her. I don't know how well known the carry on series was outside of Britain, they were a series of low budget comedy films, which relied on slapstick, farce and double entendres, usually featuring the same group of actors, who were poorly paid. The films were made between 1958 and 1978 and are as British as fish and chips, kiss me quick hats and Blackpool Rock and people either love them or loathe them. In carry on screaming, Fenella stole the show, even though career wise it was not her finest hour, her screen presence is undeniable.

After watching hotel deluxe, I got curious, I wanted to know what happened to Fenella, after a bit of rooting around I unearthed this interview by Robert Chalmers, from The Independant on Sunday, 24th February 2008, the interview is quite long so I have just included the most interesting bits...

Fenella Fielding, by Duffy for Vogue 1961

It's one of the mysteries of British life that Fenella Fielding, whose wit and distinctive stage presence captivated figures such as Kenneth Tynan, Noël Coward and Federico Fellini, should have drifted into obscurity rather than being celebrated – to use a phrase deservingly derided by Alan Bennett, but in this case the only one that will do – as a national treasure. Fielding pioneered the notion that a young British woman could write and perform stand-up comedy, with her solo shows and musical revues at places such as Peter Cook's Establishment club. Her Hedda Gabler was described by The Times as "one of the experiences of a lifetime". Yet she has somehow come to be remembered only as a sort of cartoon vamp. If there's a single image that defines her in the public's memory, it's the one in which Valeria, her character in Carry on Screaming, who is a member of the living dead, reclines on a chaise-longue and asks "Do you mind if I smoke?" Seconds later, clouds of dry ice appear, apparently rising from her generously exposed torso.

Shivering on the forecourt of the Dorchester are a group of photographers waiting for a Keira Knightley or a Johnny Depp. Seeing Fenella Fielding, who emerges from a taxi dressed modestly but elegantly in a charcoal leather raincoat and her trademark white-collared blouse, the entire group turns to look at her, as if instinctively sensing the presence of a true star.

Fielding, who is one of the industry's more retiring figures, had explained that she couldn't meet me at her west London flat because she was having building work done. We sit down for tea in the hotel bar. Her appearance has scarcely changed over the past 30 years: somehow – and by what strategies I don't ask her – she has retained her looks without developing the alarming skeletal appearance acquired by actresses whose faces have had "work".

Her age has been the subject of some debate. She says she was 73 in November. Enemies, some of whom appear to have tampered with her Wikipedia entry, ungallantly ' assert that she has been with us slightly longer than that. There is, she tells me, a significant gap in years between herself and her brother Basil, otherwise known as Baron Feldman of Frognal. The baron, a former plastic-toy magnate whose business interests, according to one report, have included "Sindy dolls, aircraft kits and yo-yos", is an influential figure in the Conservative Party.

"It must be quite a gap," I suggest, "because Basil gives his age in Who's Who as 81."

"It is," she says. "But you'll have to be vague about that. Or I may never work again."

Quite why her age should be of concern to anyone, I'm not sure, given that she has lost nothing in terms of swiftness of thought or memory: there was no point during our several hours of conversation at which she had to pause to search for a name. She's sharp, engaging, and discusses the work of writers ranging from Stella Gibbons to Patrick Marber. Like her old friend Kenneth Williams, she maintains an exaggeratedly robust façade, which serves as a buffer against a potentially cruel and intrusive world. The tone of ironic seduction and improbable poshness that she brought to her two Carry on... films and movies such as Doctor in Clover, never fades. When Patrick McGoohan asked her to be the voice that hails the villagers in his 1967 television series, The Prisoner, she recalls, "He told me not to be too sexy. I mean," she adds, "such a thought would never have occurred to me."

Most performers who have spent over 50 years in showbusiness have generated a thick and colourful stack of newspaper cuttings. But this actress's file is slim, and contains almost nothing in terms of substantive information about her. She is not, as it turns out, an aristocrat; Fielding is a stage name and Basil, her only sibling, is a life peer whose sponsors, when he entered the Lords, were Margaret Thatcher and Cecil Parkinson.

"Daddy had a cinema," she says. "At Silvertown. In north London." "Did you go there, as a girl?" "Yes." "What did you see?" "I can't remember. I can remember what I ate. Coconut squares dipped in chocolate, wrapped in gold paper." Fielding laughs. "Lovely."

She admits to being the daughter of Philip Feldman, who arrived in Britain aged about three, from Russia, and his wife Tilly, who was Romanian. She concedes that she grew up in Lower Clapton, Hackney, and went to North London Collegiate School, but won't say which London drama school she attended.

"I think you're on record as saying it was Rada."

"I ... it's not important. I didn't complete the course. There were rows every morning."

"Because your parents didn't want you to act?" "I had to hide every morning, until Daddy had gone out to work. And then stay out late to try to avoid him in the evening. Because of these terrible rows. Mummy would come and try to get me to go back home in the middle of the day. After about a year the school said look, this cannot carry on. I had to leave."

She was dispatched to secretarial college. Concerning her ambition to act, she once said, "I think my parents had visions of me being found in the Thames with six illicit foetuses in my womb and needle marks up my arm."

Asking her questions, I tell her, I keep being reminded of what the southern Spanish say about the Catalans, namely that they are so secretive that if you meet them in a department-store lift, they won't tell you if they're going up or down. She has never married, something which – combined with the many friendships she has had with gay men, such as Francis Bacon, Kenneth Williams and author Daniel Farson – have led some to assume her to be lesbian.

"I suppose it's only natural, if you don't have prominent liaisons. But my closest lady friends, if they heard that, they would shriek with laughter."

"Have you lived your life alone?"
"I don't think that would be entirely true. Not really. Years ago, a woman asked me: 'Do you have a boyfriend?' I told her: 'I have two lovers.' She got very upset and said: 'What a terrible thing to say.' Why was that terrible? And later on, I repeated this to a man who was gay. He said: 'Well, that is terrible. It must only ever be one person.' I said: 'Oh. Right. Fine. I see. I'll remember that. Thank you for the tip.'"

With Tony Curtis in Drop Dead Darling 1966

Cecil Beaton, 1972

Was there one moment, I ask Fielding, where she might have broken away from the stereotype typified by Carry on Screaming? "I turned down the chance to work with Frederico Fellini in the late-1960s." The director of La Strada and La Dolce Vita, she adds, "had a big thing about me. He saw me on stage in the Sardou comedy, Let's Get a Divorce. He wanted me to do this film in which I'd play the incarnation of six different men's desires. Not a bad role." Fielding laughs. "You see, Fellini had never heard of Carry on... He just saw what he saw and thought: I like that. It was thrilling. I had to meet him at a hotel. It was a fascinating time; full of secret telegrams and so on. He was gorgeous. But I'd already said yes to a play at Chichester. I thought it would be dishonourable to let them down. I would say that's the thing that I really regret."

"What happened to the Fellini film?" "He never made it. He sold the script. What I did was really stupid, I know. But everybody does something really stupid. That was my one."

It's not as if she hasn't done outstanding work in recent years: Dearest Nancy, Darling Evelyn, her dramatised performance of the letters between Nancy Mitford and Evelyn Waugh, has toured to excellent reviews, but always in small venues. And she had a successful tour of Ireland in 2006 with The Vagina Monologues.

In 1996, at the tiny New End Theatre in Hampstead, the theatre director Andrew Visnevski gave Fielding a starring role in Maria, the life story of Polish poet Maria Pawlikowska-Jasnorzewska. (She was a truly great writer, often referred to as the Polish Oscar Wilde – just why has Ms Pawlikowska-Jasnorzewska never become a household name?) Talking to Visnevski, I mentioned how many contemporary films I'd seen – mostly, but not exclusively, comedies – in which Fielding might have shone. The scarcity of her recent appearances on screen has, I suggested, been little short of tragic.

"There are so many parts she could have played," Visnevski said. "Her mind is crystal-clear, she does yoga every day, and she is still interested in everything. She judges films for Bafta. I cast her in that straight biographical play about a woman writer who dies of cancer partly because I wanted to see her shed that caricaturish Carry on... image that has haunted her for years. She was just phenomenal. She is an incredible, multi-faceted actor."

"So why isn't she working more?"

"Everybody sees Fenella through the image she's created. She is, let's face it, one of the last great stars in England. And every great star has an image. But hidden under there is a vigorous, highly intelligent, uniquely talented and sensitive artist who still has a great deal to offer."

Uniquely talented she may be, but the urgent question that faces Fenella Fielding is how long it may be before any contemporary casting directors notice. When we leave The Dorchester, the photographers turn to stare at her again. Fielding seems oblivious to them. She has to prepare for an audition the following day, she says, but she doesn't like to talk about prospective roles in case she doesn't get them. She picks her way across the forecourt, which is crowded with limousines and taxis, and boards a bus for Marble Arch, still dreaming of a less trivial kind of fame.

I for one would love to see Fenella back on our screens, casting directors take note, Dame Maggie, Dame Eileen and Dame Judy are all fabulous but I am sure there is room for Fenella too, she is utterly wonderful.

To read the interview in full go here

Fenella is currently appearing in Dearest Nancy, Darling Evelyn at various venues in Britain to find out more details and see what else she is up to visit her website here

The role that damaged Fenellas career, carry on screaming 1966

Appearing with Britian's best loved comedy double act, Morecambe and Wise on their Christmas special show, 1969

Blonde Geisha

2011-09-23T09:13:00.001+02:00

Jean Shrimpton by Cecil Beaton 1964

Wishing you all a wonderful weekend

XXX

Reflections of The South

2011-09-21T13:32:00.000+02:00

We have returned from our jaunt to France's Mediterranean coast and I am already missing it. They say people are; town people, country people, mountain people or coastal people, I am a bit of all of those, however whenever I am on or near the Mediterranean coast, I feel a sense of well being and contentment that I cannot explain, it runs deeper than just a holiday thing, my hairdresser, describes my hair as Mediterranean! Perhaps my early ancestors hailed from some place on the shores of the Mediterranean.

Now back in the foothills of the Pyrenees, the weather is growing colder and there is the distinct smell of Autumn in the air, the first dusting of snow appeared on the mountains the other morning. The Mediterranean won't really experience colder weather till around November.

I know some people who have moved from the Mediterranean coast to other parts of France because they miss the seasons, although there are seasons in that part of the world, they are less defined. There is a point in Southern France and I can tell you exactly where it is, it is just after Carcasonne, the landscape starts to change, green fields and deciduous trees decrease in numbers and are replaced by pines, cypresses and vineyards as you reach Narbonne you get your first glimpse of the sparkling blue Mediterranean and the further east you go, the landscape becomes increasingly Mediterranean, driving through towns you see Bougainvillea, Oleander and olive trees in abundance, the architecture changes, the colours change, tiles on roofs change, the style of the shutters on the buildings change and most significantly, the light changes...

I could not resist snapping this 2CV, they are getting rarer in France, you don't see this icon of France on the roads as often as you used to. Judging by the flowers, attached by a ribbon, I suspect this one has just been used for a wedding, possibly carrying the bride and groom. My friend Veronique over at French Girl in Seattle has just written a superb post about the 2CV, pop over and visit her, she has one of the most informative and interesting blogs regarding France and French life.

Most of these photos were taken in Antibes, we spent an afternoon there with Belle Mere, she had not been for quite a while, she reminisced about a restaurant, near an English bookshop, she used to frequent around 20 years ago, imagine her delight when she discovered the restaurant and bookshop still there. The restaurant was different to how she remembered it, much more modern and swanky now and the bookshop is larger, needless to say we had a delightful lunch and afterwards wandered round the bookshop.

Provenance...The Future

2011-09-20T14:28:00.000+02:00

I have a bit of a mental block today, three posts in draft that are not quite right, so I leave you with this rather interesting article from The Sunday Times...

For anyone who has ever mused, "if only walls could talk", help could soon be at hand.

Scientists have created a way of linking objects to a specific web page allowing, for example, the buyer of a second hand car to watch a video left by the previous owner or access the recollections of people earlier inside a room.

The concept works by use of quick response (QR) codes, which resemble large bar codes. They are attached to objects and when scanned with a smartphone they link with a website specific to that item. Users can post their comments or memories of items to create a social network of things rather than people.

It was developed by Andrew Hudson-Smith, director of the Centre for Advanced Spacial Analysis at University College London, and a team of artists and scientists working on a project to build a social networking site of objects called Tales of Things.

"It is a mixture of facebook, the Antiques Roadshow and e Bay", he said. "For the first time the item can give you information about it's own history and background and new owners can continue to add to that story from the cradle to the grave.

I have heirlooms and I just wish I could point my mobile phone at them and see my grandmother talking about why she bought it or how she came to own it."

The technology has already been tested by the charity Oxfam and will be introduced at 20 shops next year.

Customers will be able to scan QR codes attached to second-hand clothes and hear audio tracks or watch videos recorded by previous owners.

The singer Annie Lennox was one of those involved in the trial. In a video attached to a silk dress she donated, Lennox explained how she wore it to Nelson Mandela's 90th birthday party in London's Hyde Park.

Sarah Farquhar, Oxfam's head of retail, said the additional personal messages had boosted sales by 41%.

"In our disposable society it makes people stop and think about the value of their things and the memories attached to them," she said.

The Tales of Things project is funded by a £1.4m research grant from the Digital Economy Research Councils UK.

As well as being used by Oxfam, the technology has been installed at 4,000 bus stops in Norway, where passengers can retrieve information from other commuters about delays.

"If you look at how the technology works, you could use it in a range of different ways," Hudson-Smith said.

"We could get to a stage where you can prove the geographic location of every object that has a tag on. That means an insurance firm would be able to prove what you owned and whether it was still in your home, which would cut down on fake claims. You could also trace stolen items.

"When it comes to food, you are more likely to buy something if you know where it comes from, for example, by having a tag on a box of eggs. If you see a video of the farmer talking and you see the hens running around free range, then you are more likely to buy the eggs and pay a higher price for them."

On the Tales of Things website, people have posted memories about treasured possessions, ranging from a Star Wars Yoda mug to the pier at Aberystwyth, north Wales.

Hudson-Smith said: "It's Like leaving a living museum. We're aiming to trace every object from the cradle to the grave to add life to objects so that our stories can live on in our things for future generations to find."

By Kate Mansey, from The Sunday Times 18/09/2011

Lazy Sunday

2011-09-18T15:34:00.000+02:00

Samantha Jones in Nina Ricci, by Gianni Penati, Vogue 1968

It's been one of those drizzly, damp weekends here in the Pyrenees, after a hectic couple of weeks, its very welcome, been extremely lazy, all cozied up, with plenty of red wine and nibbles at hand, messing about on the computer, reading and watching films. As I type this MG is busy in the kitchen, preparing his legendary roast chicken and roast potatoes. I spotted the above picture on my internet wanderings and almost had to reach for the smelling salts, I love it, this tunic is beautifully simple, classic, timeless and elegant. I am sorely tempted to send an e mail to my BF, who at this moment is somewhere in the garment district of Hong Kong, 'Ivory silk, please and you know my measurements'! I think it would look sublime teamed with black, silk, wide legged palazzo pants.

What else, more of the same really with chocolates, ready for tonight, when I will be firmly rooted to the sofa, watching the first hour and a half special of the much awaited, second series of the phenomenon known as....

Hope your all having a wonderful Sunday
XXX

Audrey On Set

2011-09-16T12:45:00.000+02:00

With Dovima on the set of Funny Face

Paris When it Sizzles

How to Steal a Million

Two for The Road

Off Set, relaxed and happy

Breakfast at Tiffany's

Wishing you all a fabulous weekend

XXX

Grandmother and Granddaughter

2011-09-15T19:57:00.000+02:00

Dolores

Drew

I have always thought of Drew Barrymore as an unconventional beauty and I think she has something rather special. She is at her best in vintage, she has a natural vintage look and a resemblance to her silent screen Goddess, Grandmother, Dolores Costello. Acting wise I think her best performance to date was her role as little Edie in Grey Gardens, I would like to see her cast in more period roles, I think we have not seen the best of Drew yet.

Herb Ritts

Ellen Von Unwerth

Annie Leibovitz

As Little Edie in Grey Gardens

Len Prince

Stephen Meisel

New York

2011-09-11T20:36:00.000+02:00

She is much smaller than her big Sister, she is a small scale model of the original, made from cast iron and covered in gold leaf, on her base she bears the signature of Bartholdi, she has been standing proudly and quitely above a fresh water fountain in the main square known as Portalis, in the small, attractive coastal town of St Cyr-sur-Mer, in the Var department of France since 1913. You cannot help but notice her, whilst enjoying the liberty of taking a coffee or an apertif in one of the cafes she shares the square with. Today, she represents her big Sister, I suspect not one soul who gazes upon her, cannot do so without thinking about New York.

Up At The Villa

2011-09-08T19:23:00.002+02:00

I hereby bequeath to the Institut de France, for the Academie des Beaux-Arts, the Villa Ile de France, in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat, together with all the works of art and furniture, and the gardens surrounding the villa, for the purposes of creating a museum...To this new museum, I bequeath all my works of art, whether in Paris, 19 Avenue Foch or in the Villa Soleil and the Villa Rose de France in Monte Carlo: paintings, furniture, porcelain, tapestry, etc. it is my wish that as much as possible the museum keeps its current appearance as a salon, and that the valuable pieces are kept behind glass.

A Clause from Beatrice de Ephrussis will.

Young Beatrice

Visiting the Ephrussi de Rothschild Villa and gardens is almost a spiritual experience, you feel like a privileged guest, free to roam round the magnificent house and gardens, whilst your hostess, Beatrice has popped out on an errand...

There are nine gardens in all and they all flow into each other, it's like walking through a series of magical outdoor rooms...

Spanish Garden

Florentine Garden

Views on all sides of the Cote d'Azur and neighbouring Villas

The Stone Garden

Beautiful stepped passages

Japanese Garden

View through the Bamboo in the exotic garden

Rose Garden

View From the Provencal Garden

The Temple of Love

View from the Temple of Love

View of the Villa and the French Garden

If this has whetted your appetite, you can read the fascinating story of Beatrice and the Villa Eprhussi de Rothschild, here

Visit the website here

Up At The...Shhh, More Soon!

2011-09-02T22:44:00.000+02:00

Wishing You all a Wonderful Weekend.
XXX

Mother and Daughter

2011-08-27T08:25:00.000+02:00

Nina

Uma

Wishing you all a fabulous weekend

XXX

A World Without Books

2011-08-24T17:04:00.000+02:00

Books seem to be a very hot topic of conversation at the moment in the blogosphere and round the dinner table, the main issue seems to be books versus kindle or other forms of E books, personally I am definitely in the book camp however I do see the benefits of kindles and E books. Let's face it carrying around one smallish piece of technology, with downloadable access to thousands of titles is preferable to lugging round heavy books, E Books are also beneficial to the environment cutting down on paper and distribution, I recently saw a news report regarding Africa, where for the first time children in remote villages, are now able to access text books and titles, previously unavailable to them, thanks to the internet, E Books and kindles, thus radically improving their education and ensuring a brighter future for themselves and their communities.

Despite all this I still cannot bring myself to even think about purchasing a Kindle, I love books, not just the words contained between the pages but the books themselves, new books, old books, ancient books, paperbacks, hardbacks and coffee table books, I love the way they smell, I love reading the covers and leafing through the pages, I lovingly slot them onto shelves or place them on tables, desks and sideboards, I even have a small library in the loo! After reading, they will often be revisited, consulted for reference and shared with family and friends.

And what about the high-street bookshops and library's? apparently bookshops both independents and chains are struggling to compete with the might of Amazon and their ilk and library memberships are in decline, library's across the globe are closing. Living in deepest France, with no immediate access to English books, I rely on Amazon for my book hit, and despite,'wish lists, access to reviews, people who purchased this title also bought that title, you may also like this, personal profiling and recommendations', there is still nothing to equal browsing round a really good bookshop or library.

Are we really the last generation, who will clamour after tangible books? Will future generations regard paper books as antiquated dust gatherers? Watching news coverage of children who queued overnight outside bookshops to get their hands on the latest Harry Potter book, I would like to think not, I saw the delight on their faces, when they got their hands on those books, would a downloadable E book create the same excitement?

And what about the authors themselves? Will self publishing and E Books cut out the need for publishers and herald the demise of the professional writer? I hope not.

Progress cannot be stopped, the digital age is here to stay and even though there are many practical benefits for the Kindle and E books, I hope books as we know them, will be around for centuries to come, I would like to think that the world has room for both.

I dedicate this post to my friend Kathy who sent me a link this morning, which triggered this post. It's a fascinating article and a little scary, if you have a few moments follow the link and read it, I would love to hear your thoughts: click here

Shakespeare and Co

Nigella Lawsons Library

Karl Lagerfelds Library

Rudyard Kipling, Sir Philip Burne-Jones, 1899

Lartigue's Ladies

2011-08-22T18:09:00.000+02:00

Florette, Paris 1943

There is no doubt that Jacques Henri Lartigue had an excellent eye, he also had an eye for the ladies and I think perhaps a hand and nail fixation...

On December 17th 1919, Lartigue married his first wife Madeleine Messager, he called her Bibi, they had two children together Dani born in 1921 and Veronique born in 1924, sadly she died at only a few months old. Madeleine and Jacques parted in 1930.

Bibi Paris 1921

Bibi at the Hotel des Alpes, Chamonix, 1920

Bibi on their honeymoon, 1919

From Lartigue's Personal diaries...

January 1920 –

“What am I ? And what am I doing here ? I am a married man – on my honeymoon. I think it must be the funniest thing in the world, me, a married man, on his honeymoon.

Bibi and I go everywhere together … arm in arm. We look at everything; we discover everything”.

“On her loving days Bibi is intelligent, charming and terribly funny. I will cherish forever the first photograph I took of her on our honeymoon.”

“We have a good life …”

“To keep in good shape Bibi exercises every morning with her teacher. I sometimes exercise with her, but that apparently, is disastrous for her concentration. We laugh too much. I don’t understand why Bibi is so concerned about her figure. She tells me she does it for me and that I ought to be flattered. Life is full of excitement, surprises … and best of all, Bibi.”

Bibi, Cannes 1923

1921 –

“I have a son ! He was born on August 23. His name is Dani, and he cries, he screams, he howls … and when Dani finally consents to give his public a vague, resigned smile of concession, everyone is ecstatic: he smiles like an angel”

“Yvonne (Printemps) is one month younger than I, Bibi two years. They are both flowers on the point of opening up to their moment of greatest beauty … so why do I still look like a bunch of green raisins ?”

1924 –

“Bibi in the last month of her pregnancy evokes an enormous tenderness in me. We are very close … in all senses. It seems to me, strangely enough, that I am waiting with more nervous expectation for this second child than I waited for our first. Bibi is not nervous. Quietly she prepares the room for the baby, irons the curtains, plays with Dani. She is tired … but happy.”

February 1929 -

“Bibi is near to fainting in my arms.”

“To die on a Sunday. Messager, the always active man. I think about that. I think about a lot of things. My eyes are dry. Don’t I feel any grief ? Bibi weeps over her father … isn’t that enough to make my heart melt ?”

Bibi, Hotel des Alpes, Chamonix 1930

June 1929 -

“I am alone in the studio, my cluttered garret, high up in our house in Neuilly. It’s four o clock in the morning. Through the skylight I can see the whole city (Paris) bathed in the first glow of sunrise. I wonder how many unhappy people there are living in all the thousands of houses ? Am I one of those unhappy people ?

In a little while, I will go downstairs and lie beside Bibi. But first I must clarify my thoughts. I haven’t been very successful so far. It has been said so many, many times that a betrayed husband is the last person to know and to understand. A betrayed husband ? Me ?

Bibi ! My little Bibi ! Bibi of our happy years ! Would she really betray me ? I realize, of course, that anything, absolutely anything, can happen in a lifetime; that the most improbable crises are always plausible. But this ? Bibi and that poseur ! Bibi, with her lack of patience, her knife-sharp judgments ! Bibi, the daughter of Messager ! But I shouldn’t have forgotten that Bibi is also the daughter of that Louis XV mother with her lace furbelows ! Does Bibi really love this man ? He loves her. Yes ! To him she is the Rolls-Royce he always wanted to have, when all the idiot can afford is a Renault ! I talk, I write, I think. But inside me the chaos continues ! I tell myself lies, and then I try to convince myself that what I just told to myself is the truth. I think: I love Bibi, she is mine. I don’t want to be concerned about anything else. There is a certain kind of suffering you can refuse. I am very sleepy, and I realize that I don’t know anything more than I did a few hours ago.”

Bibi, Megeve, January 1930

July 1929 -

“When I talk feverishly about the need to produce and to create, it really means that I’m in the midst of a crisis. Again I’ve become a spectator, an outsider, which, apparently is the only way I can live through these dramas. I have learned one thing: I should never have trusted our silences. I shouldn’t even have trusted the affectionate conversations we have had, Bibi and I. Our happiness has been assassinated ! We remain friends, we talk without anger, but the words – my words – are artificial. My second self, that cold, phlegmatic creature – my self-appointed referee – chuckles in a corner about my performance in real life.

Bibi arranging flowers, Nice 1920

Bibi and their son Dani, Nice February 1928

1930 -

“I live alone with my fantasies. Perhaps they are the best company a man can have?”

“Paris is almost deserted. The smell of the hot asphalt evokes memories of other summers. And all those memories together form one great big, enormous chaos: love. There are old, marvellous, tender, indescribable memories that I never did, and never could, invite Bibi to share.”

In 1930 Jacques meets the beautiful Renee Perle, the lady that went on to become his most famous muse, she became his mistress, Renee and Jacques were together for two years.

Paris, March 7, 1930 -

“Half past five at the Embassy. I wait for my “parasol” from last night. I need a whisky. I’m very shy deep down, and ready to be furious if she doesn’t show up. It’s my curiosity that would be most disappointed…
Five thirty-five. There she is! Can it really be her? Ravishing, tall, slim, with a small mouth and full lips, and dark porcelain eyes. She casts aside her fur coat in a gust of warm perfume. We’re going to dance. Mexican? Cuban? Her very small head sits on a very long neck. She is tall; her mouth is at the level of my chin. When we dance my mouth is not far from her mouth. Her hair brushes against both.

“Romanian. My name is Renée P… I was a model at Doeuillet…” Delicious. She takes off her gloves. Long, little girl’s hands. Something in my mind starts dancing at the thought that one day perhaps she would agree to paint the nails of those hands…”

To see a previous post all about Renee go here

On March 12th 1934 he marries Marcelle Paolucci or 'Coco' as she was known, they divorced in 1942

Coco 1934

Coco in the garden

Coco on the beach, Hendaye 1934

In January 1942 he meets twenty one year old Florette Ormea in Monte Carlo, Jacques was twenty seven years her senior. They married on August 28th 1945, They remained happily together until Jacques death in 1986, aged 92.

Florette, 1947

Florette, Paris 1944

Florette Paris 1944

Florette, Paris 1944

Florette Paris 1944

Florette Paris, 1944

Florette, Monte Carlo, 1953

Florette Paris 1944

Florette with JFK and a friend, Le Cap d'Antibes 1953

Florette at Picasso's studio, Cannes, 1955

"I have never taken a picture for any other reason than that at that moment it made me happy to do so"

Jacques Henri Lartigue

Not quite ready to relinquish Summer

2011-08-21T19:08:00.002+02:00

Jacques Henri Lartigue, Bibi at the New Eden Roc Restaurant, Cap d'Antibes, 1920.

When I lived in England as soon as the August Bank holiday approached it was time to pretty much give up on Summer, thoughts of crisp, autumnal days, boot and wellie clad bracing country walks, cocooning in cashmere, holing up in country pubs and cosy evening's in on comfy sofas, warmed by the heat of a roaring open fire with a good film or book and a good bottle of red, abounded.

No, No, No I am not in England and despite all the September issue glossies showing off autumn/winter fashions I am not giving up on summer just yet, as I sit typing this the temperature outside is 36 degrees Celsius, The Pyrenees is one of hottest areas in France at the present time. The heat is stifling, stepping outside, is like walking into an oven, thank heaven for the thick walled, tiled floored, shuttered, coolness of the old farmhouse in which we live, we are just about managing to keep cool.

After a long summer of looking after others holiday needs, next weekend we are off to La Cote d'Azur for two, long weeks, the first time in ages we have had a two week holiday, I can't wait to swap the late summer humidity of the Pyrenees for the drier heat of The Mediterranean and the breezes coming in off the coast. The season is long in the East and Autumn does not really start to kick in until mid October, early September is one of the best times to be there, the holiday hoards will have gone so there will be more space on the beaches and the sea will be lovely and warm... Autumn will just have to wait.

Jacques Henri Lartigue, Bibi in Cannes, 1927.

The Party of the Century

2011-08-17T23:29:00.003+02:00

On September 3rd 1951 Don Carlos de Beistegui y de Tturbe or Charlie de Beistegui to his acquaintances threw a lavishly extravagant, decadent, masked, costume ball, which he called 'Le Bal oriental'. The venue was his newly restored Palazzo Labia in Venice. The ball was the first grand ball to be held after the second world war, quite a bold move considering Europe was still picking up the pieces and rationing was still in place in many countries, (food rationing in Britain ended in 1954).

Charles Beistegui on the balcony of the Palazzo Labia

Palazzo Labia

Palazzo Labia, John Singer Sargent

Charlie was of Mexican and Spanish origin, he was the heir to a Mexican Silver fortune although he only went to Mexico twice, he was born in France and educated in England. Charlie was an eccentric, multimillionaire, art collector and interior decorator and one of the most flamboyant characters of the 20th century. Despite all this he was not the most popular person, he was often described as being personally aloof and shadowy with a reputation of treating his friends and mistresses poorly.

Charles de Beistegui

Cecil Beaton wrote in his diary:

"Beistegui is utterly ruthless. Such qualities as sympathy, pity or even gratitude are sadly lacking. He has become the most self-engrossed and pleasure-seeking person I have met."

'His personal aloofness' did not stop people wishing to attend his party, his guest list was high profile and everybody who was anybody during that period expected an invitation. Guests took months preparing, choosing costumes and rehearsing grand entrances. The ball helped launch Pierre Cardins career, he designed thirty costumes. Today, 'Le Bal oriental' has achieved legendary status and is indeed referred to as 'The party of the century'

Excert from 'Wait For me!' Memoires of the youngest Mitford Sister, Deborah Devonshire:

The extravaganza gave rise to green-eyed jealousy over invitations and was the talk of London, Paris and New York for months. Andrew and I were lucky enough to be invited. He went in eighteenth century costume and I wore a simple, white muslin dress with a pale blue satin jacket, copied from a portrait of Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, by John Downman.

The ball was an unforgettable theatrical performance with entrees of men and women in exquisite costumes. M. de Beistegui, in a vast wig of cascading golden curls and a lavishly embroidered brocade coat, stood on stilts as to be easily recognised. Daisy Fellowes regularly voted the best dressed woman in France and America, portrayed the Queen of Africa from the Tiepolo frescoes in Wurzburg. She wore a dress trimmmed with leopard print, the first time we had seen such a thing (still fashionable today, sixty years on), and was attended by four young men painted the colour of mahogany. So many women threatened to be Cleopatra that the host decided to settle it himself and named Diana Cooper for the roll.

Daisy Fellowes

Lady Diana Cooper as Cleopatra

One memorable entree was Jaques Fath, the Paris couturier, who came as Louis XIV in a headdress of white ostrich feathers as tall as himself, and a shimmering white satin jacket and skirt - like a doublet and hose - embroidered with gold. Cecil Beaton, dressed as a French Cure and dancing with Babara Hutton, was worth watching.

Jacques and Genevieve Fath

Jacques Fath

Cecil Beaton and friends

Wine, food and entertainment were provided on the public square outside the palazzo for the citizens of Venice. At least one Frenchman of noble birth, who thought he should have been asked to the ball, enjoyed himself among the crowd who were climbing up greasy poles for chicken and hams, and he was visited every now and again by the glamourous figures from the palazzo. As this extraordinary night turned into dawn, we splashed our way down the Grand Canal back to our hotel, having had the time of our lives.

Orson Welles

Jean Tierney

Photographs sourced from: http://scalaregia.blogspot.com/

What's Going On?

2011-08-15T22:33:00.028+02:00

Julius Leblanc Stewart, The Goldsmith Ladies in the Bois de Boulogne in a Peugeot "Voiturette", 1897, Bordeaux Museum of Art, France

What has been going on? My poor blog has been woefully neglected lately and I have been a terrible blogger. Even though I have been keeping up with everybody else's blogs my commenting has been very thin on the ground, for this I can only apologise, I have been suffering a touch of bloggers block, everything I wrote suddenly seemed trite, even on the commenting front and time after time I found myself hitting the delete button. To new followers and people that have sent lovely and encouraging e mails I will be in touch. I think my blogging equilibrium has now returned, so things should be back to normal soon, I have had quite a busy Summer so far, lots of guests, constant cleaning, tidying and gardening and in between a few interludes...

On Bastille day, good friends invited us to a luncheon party, interrupted by the Tour De France which was passing the end of their road on the Pyrenean mountain stage, the atmosphere was fantastic, we all trotted up the road, glasses of wine in hand to wait for the heroes of the cycling world to pass, I snapped this picture, the pace was quite slow and relaxed here, no doubt they were saving themselves for the gruelling mountain climbs ahead, after they whistled by, we returned to the party for more fine food, wine and chat.

MG persuaded me to accompany him on a bit of a road trip to the Silverstone Classic for the full three days, he tempted me with the fact that 2011 marks the 50th anniversary of my favourite car; The E Type Jaguar, the first UK customer car was delivered in July 1961. At Silverstone they were trying to break the world record by having the largest number of E Types ever gathered in one place, there were around 1000 from all over Europe.

I do love a road trip and I got to choose the accommodation, thanks to the blogging world, I knew that the lovely Victoria from A Life Reclaimed offered quality accommodation and she is only 10 minutes from Silverstone racetrack. Those of you who follow Victoria or her daughter Sasha aka Liberty London Girl, will know that Victoria is at present in the middle of moving and it was lovely of her to let us stay, three weeks before her move.

When we arrived at Victoria's we got a very warm welcome and when she showed us to our beautiful room I was in heaven, I thought to myself, stuff Silverstone, I could just stay here for three days and pamper myself, go for walks with Victoria and the dog's and explore the beautiful countryside and architecture of Northamptonshire a stunning county previously unknown to me. Victoria is moving to a cottage up the road, she told me, even though she is downsizing, once she is settled, she will still have a spare room and bathroom and hopes to be able to continue offering quality hospitality. If your looking for a quintessential English home, charming host, fine cooking, stunning countryside, with good road access to London and surrounding counties, look no further.

Dreaming about my future new classic car, in 'old English white', one day...

Meanwhile back at Silverstone, the highlights for me were indeed the E Types, I decided I would love to own one (Series 1 and definitely soft top) and after perusing all the styles and colours, it would have to be in this colour which MG informs me is 'old English white' MG also informed me that if I ever did buy one he would do all the necessary maintenance on it, provided he got to drive it occasionally.

I enjoyed my brief return visit to Britain, discovering a gorgeous county that I had no previous knowledge of, in the evening, after being advised by Victoria we motored along the Northamptonshire country lanes stopping at country pubs, in charming villages, to consume gorgeous meals, it really whetted my appetite and made me realise that there is still a lot of Britain unknown to me and that Britain is indeed beautiful, I quite fancy going on a one month road trip, around all the parts of Britain that I don't know, who knows maybe next Spring...

The other highlight for me was Jamie Olivers Fabulous Feasts when we got off the overnight ferry at Portsmouth we drove straight to Silverstone, we were starving, we looked around the many outdoor catering vans at Silverstone, I ordered a BLT from one of them and MG ordered a bacon roll from another, terrible, my idea of a BLT is light, crispy bacon, heavy on the salad and tomatoes with lots of seasoning encased in some form of delicious wholemeal bread, what I got fell well short of the mark, I found myself asking, why, out of all the food stalls and vans there, nobody seemed to be offering healthy, tasty food, it was not until day two that I discovered Jamie's tent.

I have a couple of Jamie Oliver cookbooks in my collection but have never eaten in one of his establishments. Recently he seemed to be everywhere I was worried at one point that he could be suffering from overexposure so it was great to discover, he does indeed practice what he preaches, he has gone into outdoor catering and has tents at many British events and festivals, good for him, the food was; marvellous, served quickly and efficiently by genuinely happy, cheerful, well informed staff, ethically sourced and included vegetarian options. I went for the roasted summer veggie and goats cheese bap, it was sublime, the next day I had the Great British salt beef, dill pickle and mustard, into the stratosphere, I am still dreaming about it now and find myself wishing we could get salt beef here in France!

Wishing you all a fabulous week...

Goodnight Amy

2011-07-26T20:12:00.016+02:00

I was deeply saddened at the news of the death of Amy Winehouse last weekend. I followed her career right from the beginning and remember a beautiful, curvaceous, young girl with a wit and intelligence way beyond her years. I simply adore the two albums she produced, full of raw emotion, pathos, great lyrics and that distinctive, wonderful voice. She kick started a flagging, British music scene, paving the way for a new breed of talented, young songstresses who can sing and write wonderful lyrics; Adele, Duffy, Lily, Paloma and Joss, spring to mind. Her troubles with drugs, drink and destructive relationships have been well documented, I hoped she could kick the cycle of addiction but it was not to be. Her legacy will be her music and the two fabulous albums she produced which in my opinion are masterpieces. I prefer to remember Amy as she was before the harrowing images of an addicted and distressed young woman started to appear in the tabloid press. Goodbye Amy, rest in peace.

Amy Winehouse 1983-2011

Amy at the beginning of her all too brief career:

A Summers Day Out

2011-06-27T18:57:00.013+02:00

One of the lovely things about having friends and family visiting in the Summer months are the memorable days out, visiting familiar and undiscovered places, you see things with fresh eyes and it makes you appreciate your near and far surroundings all the more.

On Saturday we set off for the lovely historical market town of Albi in The Tarn department it's about 50 miles north east of Toulouse in the Languedoc Roussillon region. Like it's larger neighbour Toulouse 'La Ville Rose' most of the buildings are hewn from red brick. We ambled round the lovely windy, cobbled streets, browsed in fabulous shops, looked up in awe at the imposing Cathedral fortified and built from red brick, inside, every inch of it is painted, it is beautiful. After a rather fine lunch washed down with local Gaillac wine we strolled along the banks of the River Tarn, with temperatures reaching the upper thirties, we made a lot of cafe stops for long, cold drinks.

The River Tarn

I was rather taken by this shrub, growing by the banks of the Tarn, Belle Mere told me it's a type of Grenadine, (Pomegranate), if I can find one, it will be in my garden next year.

Albi is the birthplace of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, the largest collection of his works are housed in the Musee Toulouse-Lautrec in the heart of Albi, the museum was founded in 1922 by a lifelong friend and the paintings were gifted by his family.

Desire Dihau Reading a Newspaper in the Garden, 1890

Never one to miss an opportunity to go round an art gallery, the cool, air-conditioned, museum was a welcome escape from the searing heat outside. Toulouse-Lautrec has never been one of my favourite artists but I did enjoy looking at his works and I now have a greater understanding and appreciation of his works and of the man behind the paintings. Poor Henri, he was born into a wealthy aristocratic family descended from the counts of Toulouse, his parents were first cousins and as a result of interbreeding Henri suffered from many congenital health disorders, as a child he fractured his right and then left leg, the bones never healed, his torso developed normally but his legs stopped growing, his adult height was 5ft 1. With long periods of convalescence he immersed himself in his art, showing promise and talent he was encouraged by his parents who knew his destiny and future career would be in the art world.

Toilette, 1896

Henri went to Paris and was drawn to Montmarte, he is most famous for his lithographs for the Moulin Rouge and depictions of life in the decadent, seedy underbelly of Paris. I feel he was most comfortable painting prostitutes in the salons and the brothels, the prostitutes of the day rarely left the brothels and he seemed to have an affinity with them, painting them going about there daily business. Henri was often mocked for his short stature and he consoled himself with alcohol, his favourite tipple was a mixture of Absinthe and Cognac served in a wine goblet and nicknamed 'Earthquake'. Sadly alcohol got the better of him and he spent periods of time in health sanatoriums and institutions. One of the most poignant items in the museum for me was his walking stick, which he used every day, inside the cane was a secret compartment containing long thin bottles and a glass, this way he could have alcohol on him at all times, he died from complications of alcoholism and syphilis at the family estate in Malrome, he was 36.

Typical Albi Mansion

I did not get a chance to go into this shop...next time!

We left Albi and headed for the beautiful hilltop village of Cordes-Sur-Ciel, we took the D roads and drove through stunning countryside, passing pretty villages and narrow roads flanked by sun drenched Gaillac vineyards.

Cordes-Sur-Ciel

Beautiful Architecture

Views from Cordes of the Summer Countryside

This pigeon was most obliging posing for the camera

Love this stone carving, of a man (possibly the original owner of this medieval building) crawling out.

“In Cordes, everything is beautiful, even regret” Albert Camus.

Crusoe has sneaked onto this photograph, he is recovering beautifully.

Crusoe relaxing on very old flagstones, he looks suspiciously demure, but we know he has just polished off the remnants of a child's ice cream cone!

With all the entertaining and messing about in the French countryside, I have barely turned my laptop on, hoping to catch up with you all soon.
XXX