Colette and the exotic 1900s Parisian scene

The Colette chapter of my Nights in Paris novel is flowing along nicely, I am so excited about it and so into the whole daring, exotic, early 2oth century Parisian scene! 1909 wasn’t as daring as 1931 (the Anaïs chapter), of course, but because women were more hidden, in a way they had more freedom. (Obviously, not where it really mattered and not if you weren’t moneyed — real life is never as rosy as it seems to a tourist). I do feel lucky to be a tourist — able to dip in and out of 1909, enjoy all the wonderful parts and bypass any ugliness. Well, not quite bypassed, but you’ll have to read the chapter to see what I mean!

The bit I’m writing now is about Missy — or Max, to more intimate friends. She was very brave and lived in drag, at a time when that was illegal. I’m reading Colette’s ‘The Pure and the Impure’ as research and just love the bit about how horsewomen strut around in their leathers smelling of perspiration and horses, and how wonderfully sexy they are. You can’t get the same thrill from driving a poncy car, Colette says. I’ve never had the chance to get into horses, being a city girl, but she’s certainly persuaded me about the erotic allure of people who ride them!

It must have been quite something, in an era where most bourgeoises would allow themselves to smell only of lavender, lemon verbena or violets, to meet a woman who not only wore trousers and smoked cigars, but strode around smelling of the fresh outdoors and of horses, and was rich enough not to give a stuff about conventional femininity. Meeting someone like that (Missy), would have been exciting, fascinating, and erotic.

I’ve wondered if there was anyone else who should go in the novel, and I thought about Katherine Mansfield and Daphne du Maurier…. I’m not sure, will have to put that thought somewhere and just let it ferment for a while. I have also discovered Kiki de Montparnasse (Alice Prin), Man Ray’s stunning muse. There’s a wonderful photograph of her in the 1920s, resting on a cafe table which is littered with cigarettes (Gitanes?), a bottle of wine and half-filled glasses. But she was a model and artist, not a writer, so I must stop myself from getting carried away. If I weren’t limiting myself to writers, I would love to write about Josephine Baker, Lee Miller, and a hundred more, equally fabulous women!