It was Monday, March 27th, just after 7 p.m., and in the streets and in the cafes, the inhabitants of Paris exalted at the arrival of spring weather, the setting forward of the clocks, the first illuminated evening we’d seen since October. It was plain to see: from the Parisians shedding their top layers to the good-natured waiter in the place Saint Sulpice, from the man on the parked scooter embracing the woman in the short tight skirt, to my messy topknot and sunglasses propped jauntily up on my head: everyone was happier than any of us had been in six months.
Remy and I strolled into Les Editeurs to meet Jessica for a drink, and there she was. Not our petite blonde American girlfriend, but a petite blonde Frenchwoman clad entirely in purple: purple blazer, purple chemise, purple pants, purple bag, and even, when she left the café and we watched her cross the Carrefour de l’Odéon, bright purple socks.
And la pièce de résistance: her hair. A swirled, hairsprayed concoction of springtime joy, it was the shape that the color purple would take if it were to take shape.
It had a life of its own; it was a work of art. The picture I furtively snapped does not do it justice.
She had a manuscript in front of her and worked diligently correcting it, occasionally raising her eyes up in front of her and pursing her lips (see above). I tried to imagine what she was working on and why, and finally decided she had to be a romance novelist. I think she was correcting the draft of Elle ne connaissait pas son nom or Bras de fer, bras d’amour. Any other guesses?
I still struggling why so many people come to Paris and convert to the French culture (one of the poorest in Europe), these people don’t have any culture at all? In what remote village in Kentucky were they brought up?
Sorry, I fail to understand. I like French cheese (as I like cheese from many other countries!), but I do not wrap myself in the loser’s flag to thank them for the cheese.
In any case, for those of you who struggle to be a bit Frencher everyday, have a look at my blog, I am posting a few tips there:
http://manyyearsinthemerde.blogspot.com
Uranus
Oh her hair is fantastique! I love it!
The hair is fantastic, like cotton candy.
She definitely has to be a romance novelist (I like Bras de fer, bras d’amour!).
ooh! i love it! i could totally see her as a sex columnist or somthing of the sort!
I think she’s resenting the fact that The Color Purple has already been used as a title.
(I have a horrible sense of humour. Loved this post.)
mais je la reconnais.
C’est ma voisine de palier. elle vit de petites traductions, toujours livrées au dernier moment. Elle cachetonne, quoi.
Alors tu ne lui as rien demandé ?
oh no! je savais que quelqu’un allait la reconnaitre. Non, je ne lui ai rien demandé, qu’aurais-je du lui dire? je la salue, je l’admire (qu’est-ce que j’admire n’importe qui travaille avec des manuscrits) mais franchement j’avais peur d’une ame qui s’exprime par telle chevelure!
Wow. The power of the internet.