A French Affair: The Paris Beat, 1965-1998

Overview

Mary Blume brings her insight, humor, and unique perspective to bear on the French in this collection of thirty-three years of International Herald Tribune columns. A trusted insider in an exclusive world, Blume is also the quintessential American in Paris. Francophiles will love her intimate conversations with French icons such as François Truffaut and her tribute to Simone Signoret. In another essay, Blume takes us back to the humble beginnings of the Citroen 2 CV, which began as a motorized wagon and became a ...

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1999 Hardcover New NO DUSTJACKET Tracking provided on most orders.

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First Edition. The book and dust jacket are both brand new in a new clear Mylar dust jacket cover. Publishers publicity sheet is laid into the book. Gift quality.Shipped in a box ... with delivery conformation. Read more Show Less

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Overview

Mary Blume brings her insight, humor, and unique perspective to bear on the French in this collection of thirty-three years of International Herald Tribune columns. A trusted insider in an exclusive world, Blume is also the quintessential American in Paris. Francophiles will love her intimate conversations with French icons such as François Truffaut and her tribute to Simone Signoret. In another essay, Blume takes us back to the humble beginnings of the Citroen 2 CV, which began as a motorized wagon and became a beloved symbol to the French, despite its ungainly practicality. From "The Friends of Mona Lisa" to "The Fine Art of Window Shopping," this collection of sixty-one pieces, with illustrations by Ronald Searle, is a delightful celebration of French ways and their meaning.

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Editorial Reviews

Library Journal
Blume (C te d'Azur: Inventing the French Riviera) has lived in France for over three decades. Here is a collection of 61 of her International Herald Tribune columns, which includes commentary on French social and cultural life and profiles of writers and film directors. She describes, among other things, a museum built in honor of the bearded lady of Thaon, Clementine Delait; a street still waiting to be named; and an uprising led by the regulars of a restaurant who do not want things to change under the new management--all of which read like absurdist comedy. Illustrations by Ronald Searle enhance the irreverent and perceptive text. These essays give us an insider's view of things quintessentially French, but a collection of columns, by nature, tends to be dated. Not an essential purchase.--Ravi Shenoy, Hinsdale P.L., IL Copyright 1999 Cahners Business Information.
Eve Claxton
When I saw Jean-Luc Goddard's Breathless for the first time, it became my life's ambition to sell the International Herald Tribune on the Champs Éllysees, the way Jean Seberg's character had in that movie. Now that I've read A French Affair, the collected columns of the Tribune's Mary Blume, I have a new ambition—to write for the newspaper whose offices are off the Champs Éllysees.

Time Out New York

Wall Street Journal
This first collection of International Herald Tribune pieces by the Paris-based American cultural reporter Mary Blume is long overdue. For almost 35 years, her writing has bucked up British and Continental types and Americans abroad. But the general tone of A French Affair isn't retrospective or nostalgic: Even the oldest essays are fresh as paint, as are the fizzy illustrations by Ronald Searle.
Kirkus Reviews
A collection of essays on life in France, by an American who's lived there since 1965. Everyone who's ever been there, as well as some who haven't, has an opinion to offer about France. If one goes by the number of books published about France in the United States, Americans, in particular, seem fascinated with the French way of life. Perhaps it's the sophistication of the French, their seemingly effortless sense of style. Maybe it's the food, or the wine, or the language, or the art. Or maybe, as Mary Blume so aptly demonstrates in the title of her book, a visit to France is like a love affair, remembered accordingly—with regret, with affection, with passion, frustration, or disgust. The essays in this collection were written over the course of Blume's thirty years as a columnist at the International Herald Tribune, and offer a welcome perspective—that of an American who, while intimately familiar with France (and in particular with Paris), remains enough of an outsider to comment clearly and honestly on what she sees. The book is assembled in three sections. It opens with "Paris France," which includes diverse commentary on the people, places, and customs of the city; continues with "Rites and Rules," which illustrates some of the country's idiosyncrasies; then concludes with "Words and Images," in which the author expands her geographical area of reference in interviews with some of Europe's most celebrated artists, writers, photographers, and filmmakers. Blume is a gifted journalist who sits back and lets her subjects describe themselves; in this way she evokes some marvelous responses from, for instance, Marguerite Duras, who says, in inimitably French fashion: "Ihave a certain idea of myself. One can call it pretentious, I don't care. It's what I think." Ronald Searle's whimsical drawings, interspersed throughout, are a perfect complement to Blume's observations. Francophile seeks affair, for short or long-term? This book meets all requirements.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780684863016
  • Publisher: Free Press
  • Publication date: 11/5/1999
  • Pages: 304
  • Product dimensions: 5.81 (w) x 8.78 (h) x 1.04 (d)

Meet the Author


Mary Blume is a columnist at the International Herald Tribune and author of Côte d'Azur: Inventing the French Riviera. Born, raised, and educated in New York City, she lives in Paris, France.
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Table of Contents

Preface

PARIS FRANCE
When Paris Put On Its Best Dress
Men Will Be Boys
Genêt: French Rigor and American Gusto
The Friends of Mona Lisa
A Rueful Glance Ahead at New Face of Paris
The Last Old-Time Soup Kitchen in Paris
A Struggle for the Soul of a Paris Restaurant
Paris in a Bottle: A Wine Grower's Dream
Animating Paris, City Hall Style
Cooking Classes by Princess and Countess
Potato of Snobs, Dainty and Newly Chic, Captivates Paris
Daniel Cohn-Bendit: Ten Years After the Events of May
Happy Memories of Gray Paris in the Fifties
Vionnet, Last of the Great Couturiers
The Fine Art of Window Shopping
Saint-Germain's Latest Brainstorm
Simone Signoret: A Memory

RITES AND RULES
Paris -- La France Profonde Comes Back to Town
Money Speaks in France
Getting Through France's Linguistic Jungle
Exemplary, Bearded Clémentine
The 2 CV: They Laughed, Then Loved It
Age-Rated French Encyclopedia on Sex
Luminous Ideas of the Concours Lépine
Assembly Line Vacations
French Pursuing the Right Number
How Long Is Long? The Meter Turns 200
The "Rustproof" Candidate for the French Presidency
Virtuosi of the People's Piano
French History: Past and Present Clash
An Election in Which the Scofflaw Wins
1944: The Many Who Were Forgotten
Letting Loose and Holding Down
Be Careful, It's Mushroom Season Again
Monsieur le Perpetuel to the Rescue of English
Why a Leopard Cannot Change Its Spots

WORDS AND IMAGES
A Vintage Year for Duras
Simone de Beauvoir Talks, and Talks
V.S. Pritchett's Cheerful Laments
Elisabeth Lutyens: "A Dog Barks and a Composer Composes"
Erich Salomon's Eye onClever Hopes
Keeping Berlin Berlinisch
"Love Ya": Voznesensky and His Collages
Brassaï, Among Friends
Robert Doisneau's "Little Scraps of Time"
Photographer Don McCullin: "The Dark Side of a Lifetime"
Christo in Search of a Perfect Umbrella
Peter Brook: "One Has to Do Everything as Lightly as Possible"
Robert Morley Has Just Had Fun
Before "Paradise" and After -- Carné's Prickly Recollections
A Renoir Air of Family
François Truffaut -- Love and Children
Alain Resnais: The Rhythm of the Ear and Eye
In Raul Ruiz's Cinematic Labyrinth
Wertmuller: "I Love Chaos"
Fate, Fellini and Casanova
Ingmar Bergman: A Shadow of the Future
Marcel Ophuls, Professional Memory Man
Bertrand Tavernier and the War That Never Ended
Ella Maillart at Her Journey's End
A Lost World in Paris

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First Chapter

Chapter One: When Paris Put On Its Best Dress Paris -- It is nice to think of dressing up and smelling rose petals at a time of year when everyone is taking off his and her clothes and the pervasive perfume, if it can be called that, is Ambre Solaire.

The best dressing-up occurred in Paris between the two world wars. The occasions were costume balls of ravishing elegance. Prince Jean-Louis de Faucigny-Lucinge, who attended all of them and gave two with his late wife, Baba, a noted beauty, has described some of the better parties in his book, Fêtes Mémorables: Bals Costumés.

The French have been dressing up for centuries. What makes the 1920s and 1930s so particular, Lucinge says, is that it was a period when society and bohemia joined in a brief and happy mix.

"A congregation of what is called gens du monde and painters, poets, writers, artists -- it was a mixture that created the event. Let us say Picasso would have done the decor, Valentine Hugo the costumes, Georges Auric the music, Lacretelle or Cocteau or Morand would have written a little scenario."

There would be three or four balls, for about two hundred guests, each season between April and July. Ideally they would be held outdoors, like the Faucigny-Lucinge Second Empire ball in June 1934, in the Bois de Boulogne, which ended at dawn with romantically costumed young couples rowing on the lake.

The most assiduous partygoers and party throwers were Count Etienne de Beaumont and his wife, satirized by Radiguet in Le Bal du Comte d'Orgel and creators of the Bal Louis XIV, the Bal de la Mer, the Bal des Tableaux Célèbres and one based on the fairy tales of Perrault to which seventeen-year-old Johnny Lucinge was invited as Prince Charming by a friend of his mother.

The boy was dazzled by the beauty of the costumes and by the appearance of his host, dressed in pink tights and tiny wings as Cupid. "He liked making appearances. Sometimes he would change his costume three or four times a night," Lucinge says.

For sheer magnificence the greatest party giver after the Beaumonts was Carlos de Bestegui, whose Venetian fete at the Palazzo Labia in 1951 was the last great ball. Lucinge's publisher insisted that he include later fetes, such as the Rothschild Proust ball and the Hélène Rochas "My Fair Lady" ball, but for Lucinge these were just collections of show biz and jet-set celebs. The party, he says, is over.

But when it was still going on, what larks! The theme would be announced several months in advance so that costumes could be made and invitiations be argued over (the people one invited to costume balls were not necessarily the ones one would have dinner with). The most important part was the guest's arrival, or entrée, for which he or she might have commissioned an aubade by Poulenc or a verse by Cocteau. Sometimes guests included professional dancers in their entrées and underwent a training program to be able to keep in step. Although Elsa Maxwell once came as Napoléon III and the bearded Christian Bérard as Little Red Riding Hood, travesties were not the thing. The point was, quite simply, to look marvelous. And everyone did.

To record the evening such photographers as Horst and Man Ray would snap individuals or groups. Among the inevitable beauties at each ball were Lady (Iya) Abdy who, says Cecil Beaton, invented size, being over six feet tall, the Duchess de Gramont, Baba de Lucinge, Countess Jean de Polignac, Princess Natalie Paley and Daisy Fellowes. Chanel attracted attention among the frills of the Second Empire ball by wearing black widow's weeds and attended another party dressed as a tree.

"She adored dressing up," Lucinge says. "She was at every party and disguised herself wonderfully. It amused her, she was at the height of her glory and started going out a lot and she absolutely loved it. She took great trouble and it was always very well done because she had her own ateliers."

It was also the time when colorful revues flourished in Paris so there were many theatrical costumers near Montmartre where guests could rent costumes. Some went to great expense, while Man Ray appeared in a rayon laundry sack whose corners he had cut out for his arms and legs and carried an egg beater in one hand. The Surrealist Roland Penrose attended another ball dressed as the clock that struck at the moment Tristam Shandy was conceived.

Lucinge says he and his wife loved the planning. One of their more brilliant strokes as a young married couple was a Proust ball in 1928, only six years after the author's death. Many of Proust's friends attended and one was only narrowly persuaded not to impersonate the Master himself. The Lucinges came as the Marquis and Marquise de Saint-Loup, their costumes designed by the painter Jean Hugo whose wife, Valentine, excelled at party costumes. The party ended at 6 a.m. under the Eiffel Tower but usually they ended earlier, Lucinge says.

"People had taken such trouble to dress and prepare themselves that sometimes they weren't very comfortable and they were so excited about appearing that by two in the morning they were tired out. It never lasted terribly late."

One party where Lucinge and several other guests were extremely uncomfortable was the Bal des Matières given by the Vicomte and Vicomtesse de Noailles in 1929, at which guests were asked to wear costumes of strange materials. Charles de Noailles wore an impeccable tailcoat in oil cloth, Lucinge was a knight in paper armor designed by Valentine Hugo. "It was rather coarse packing paper. I hated it. I disliked the look of it, I disliked the look of it on myself and it was very uncomfortable. I was pleased on no account."

For the same ball, the writer Maurice Sachs pondered on whether to wear feathers or furnishing fabrics and decided instead to cover himself in pebbles, causing his dancing partners considerable discomfort. "I should have worn shells," he later wrote.

Part of the attraction of costume balls, Lucinge says, was that they gave people a chance both to play another role and to be themselves at their best. It is touching to imagine this highly sophisticated world filled for one evening with childlike excitement and a sort of innocence.

"Absolutely," Lucinge says, "and it was innocent, which is a very strange thing, because a lot of those people were more than sophisticated and yet they enjoyed themselves like children." After 1936, he says, the feeling that Europe was heading toward tragedy changed the party mood.

Even Maurice Sachs asked himself if the enjoyment of such pleasures was morally justifiable, was it right to spend such vast sums for a single night? He concluded that what he would like would be to go to the parties and not think of such things.

The parties were frivolous, of course, but frivolity is no bad thing -- it has been called play at its most evolved -- and it should not be confused with triviality. The costume balls celebrated the ephemeral, which is a highly sophisticated way of celebrating life.

It was a brief moment when everything was important, and nothing. "My big regret," Lucinge says today, "is that Picasso wanted to do my wife's portrait and you know how it is when one is young, one says tant pis, another day.

"I was young and I was lightheaded, and the painting was never done."

August 3, 1987

Copyright © 1999 by Mary Blume

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