Colette’s cassoulet — Colette and French food

Colette’s essence was one of greediness, and by that I don’t mean anything negative. Rather, I mean that she fully embraced life, and all of life’s pleasures. She spent most (if not all) of her life, from her engagement at only 17 years old, in relationships; as one relationship ended, so another began. I suspect that she was never single for very long (if at all), and that there was often an overlap between relationships, as being in a relationship didn’t stop her from having lovers.

Colette argued that having lovers was part of her “gourmandise” (greedy nature). Taking one or several lovers at a time was not manipulative or selfish; it was part of her pure nature, something she did for the pure sake of sexuality and enjoyment, “par folie, par emballement, par… gourmandise” (through madness, enthusiasm… greediness) (“Lettres à Missy” edited by Samia Bordji and Frédéric Maget, p.207). Some writers are greedy for the altered states of alcohol or drugs; Colette was famously greedy for good French food and sex.

When her most famous character, Claudine, cuts off the plaits that used to whip around her knees into a short, curly bob, many of her acquaintances assume that her short hair is a sign that she is attracted to both men and women. We later find out that they are right, when Claudine has an affair with the beautiful, irresistible Rézi. As many of Claudine’s adventures mirror those of the real Colette, it is easy to assume that this was Colette’s experience of having short hair in the 1900s, when gender roles were very defined, and a respectable woman would no more dare to cut off her hair than go out in public without a corset.

At a dinner party, the newly married Claudine is “politely pursued by a young and attractive literary man” with “caressing, long lashed eyes”. This description is probably code for a gay or effeminate man, as he reminds her of “Luce and Marcel” (a friend who had a crush on her, and her gay step-son), and she tells us that (heterosexual) “men do not make up to (flirt with) me. My recent marriage still keeps them at a distance.”

The enamoured young man compares her to “a young Hermes… an Eros… hermaphroditic masterpieces… Narcissus”, but the litany of flattery ruins her enjoyment of a “heavenly cassoulet… served in little silver-handled cocottes.” (Here, a “cocotte” is a mini casserole dish, rather than a lady of pleasure!) Unimpressed, she firmly tells him that he is mistaken: “My soul is full of nothing but haricot beans and little strips of bacon” (Claudine Married, pp.51-52).

Clearly, when a delicious dinner is at stake, nothing should interrupt, not even the most ardent flattery! A cassoulet is a simple yet delicious stew of white kidney beans and bacon and/or sausages, thrown together in one pot and baked in the oven for a couple of hours, until the beans are fat and juicy from soaking up the flavour from the bacon and sausages. And, as the character Maugis (an ill-disguised Willy — Colette’s real-life husband) comments, the advantage of serving cassoulet in individual cocottes at a dinner party is that “one can be sure of getting enough to eat” — something that would be important to Colette!

La chambre de la Polaire

Thank you, Pam, for sending me the link to La Chambre de la Polaire, a gorgeous website dedicated to Polaire!
www.geocities.com/Paris/Lights/8473/polaire.html

The pictures of Polaire are stunning, and showcase her famously minuscule waist. If you’ve ever wondered why a small waist is called a “wasp-waist”, and what it would look like, this website is for you! It looks like the photographs were all taken at one sitting — I would guess that they were taken around 1902, when she made her first major appearance on stage (as Claudine, the 16 year old schoolgirl created by Colette). Polaire would have been 28 years old then, and Colette 29, when together, the women brought Claudine to life.

Polaire’s lingerie is sumptuously, sensuously frothy and lacy. The photographs are faded, of course, and not in good focus, as if they’ve been enlarged from very small originals. But it looks like her corset laces up at the front, which is interesting — I thought the French style was to lace up at the back? In one photograph she kneels on a chair, coquettishly showing a fair bit of stockinged leg, and giving us a good view of wonderful lace-up boots, tied at the top with a satin ribbon bow.

If you look carefully at the fourth photograph, where she’s facing away from the camera, you can see a shadow on the left of her waist and bust, as if her true, more generous silhouette has been erased. I’m sure Polaire’s waist wasn’t really as tiny as it appears in the photographs. There doesn’t seem to be anything else on the website, other than the photographs, but they are beautiful.

I love this desperately erotic description of Polaire on Wikipedia:
“Polaire! The agitating and agitated Polaire! The tiny slip of a woman that you know, with the waist slender to the point of pain, of screaming out loud, of breaking in two, in a spasmically tight bodice, the prettiest slimness … And, under the aureole of an extravagant masher’s hat, orange and plumed with iris leaves, the great voracious mouth, the immense black eyes, ringed, bruised, discoloured, the incandescence of her pupils, the bewildered nocturnal hair, the phosphorus, the sulphur, the red pepper of that ghoulish, Salome-like face, the agitating and agitated Polaire!”

Colette and Anaïs Nin on Facebook, and Polaire’s corset

I finally leapt into the twenty-first century last week, when I joined Facebook. As a joke I thought: wouldn’t it be funny if Colette and Anaïs Nin are on here, so I searched for them — and they are! I joined the group of Colette and Anaïs’s “fans” — I look forward to many intense, detailled web-conversations about these wonderful writers!

One of the pictures of Colette on the site actually isn’t her at all, but Polaire — they did look alike, so it’s a common mistake. Polaire became famous when Colette’s first book “Claudine à l’école” (Claudine at school) (then published under the name Willy, Colette’s husband) was adapted as a play. Polaire first played the naughty, sapphic schoolgirl on stage in Paris in 1902. Colette later played Claudine as well, but even Colette, Claudine’s creator, maintained that Polaire was the original and best Claudine.

Polaire cut her hair to ressemble Colette’s daring, curly bobbed mop, and Willy liked to dress them alike so he could parade his “twins” to scandalise fashionable society. Colette’s memoirs describe her feeling of utter shame as the trio enter a restaurant and there is a sudden hush as all eyes are on them — she is horribly aware of the “ugly thoughts” that Willy’s “twin wives” inspire in the shocked spectators.

You can also tell Polaire and Colette apart by Polaire’s beautiful large, dark eyes (she was Algerian), and tiny waist. If you choose to believe the rumours, she could tighten the laces on her corset until her waist measured only 14 inches (35 cm). That’s half the circumference of the average woman’s waist in today’s loose, corset-less society!

On confond souvent les photographies de Colette avec ceux de Polaire — en fait, c’est assez facile de les separer: Polaire avait de beaux yeaux sombres (elle était Algerienne) et une jolie taille toute petite.

Researching corsets for Colette

I’m writing the film script for a short film and it’s going really well: the script is simply steaming ahead! The film will be based on my story about Colette, The Silver Stopper, which is adapted from my novel in progress, Nights in Paris. In only three weeks the script is already halfway there: we are on scene six already! It’s very exciting. Although the script is the foundation for a short film — without a script there is nothing — this is also the easy bit. Once the script is finished, then it’s time for the real, hard work to begin!

There is so much to research: dresses, hats, gloves, shoes, corsets, jewellery, furniture, and all the little odds and ends: combs, plates, glasses, ornaments: they seem trivial but are crucial to a film’s authenticity. It’s like reading a fantastic story and then — arrgh — you come across a blazingly obvious error, and it’s so horrible that it ruins your enjoyment and respect for the story. Accidentally doing something like that in our film would embarrass me forever, so it’s essential that all the details are perfect.

Luckily, I adore research, especially historical research. Well, who wouldn’t enjoy researching corsets? Under their black dresses, tightly fastened with hundreds of tiny buttons from neck to toe, those supposedly stiff, proper Victorians wore the most sumptuous, gorgeous undergarments. I have found the perfect corset for Colette to wear on her wedding night: the corset is a beige-pink colour with pink ribbons threaded through the white broderie anglaise lace at the bosom. The corset hooks up at the front and laces up at the back with white ribbons.

The corsets on www.antiquecorsetgallery.com are simply fabulous: this site has the most beautiful antique corsets from the 1600s to the 1900s. You can click on any corset to view a close-up from both the front and back view. It answered some questions I had, such as Colette’s corset should lace up at the front or at the back (lacing varied in different countries and periods). It seems that French corsets around 1900 were back-lacing. But I would love to hear from any corset experts!

Another site, www.1860-1960.com, has the most incredible vintage clothes for sale. It’s stunning to think that it’s possible to actually own a pair of those white, Victorian wedding boots, or that Edwardian glittering black lace dress. It’s so tempting to reach for the credit card — mind you, I probably wouldn’t fit in any of the dresses anyway — even the dresses for larger ladies have tiny, 22 inch waists! We’ll have to work out a budget, and hope that there is room to buy at least one genuine item for our costume department. The rest will have to be hired, but perhaps we can stretch to a small luxury item… a pair of gloves, maybe, or an embroidered handkerchief!

Le scénario pour le film de mon histoire de Colette avance super bien: on est déjà à la scène six! Je pensais que ça allait être difficile, mais en fait, être scénariste, ça me plaît bien!

A script for Colette

Something wonderful and completely new is happening with The Silver Stopper, my Colette short story based on my novel Nights in Paris. The Silver Stopper may be made into a short film — which makes me almost hysterical with joy! My writing is visual and descriptive, so I can see the whole film in my mind, which may be useful for Toni, the director… or annoying! We plan to start writing the script this weekend. I’ve had a look at a script writing program: writing a script is hugely different to a novel or story, but I am full of naïve, idealistic energy at the moment, so I’m not (yet) daunted.

There are already some difficulties we’ll have to contend with, such as: how much of a historical film should we make it? It’s set circa 1907, and Wellington has some historical homes, but not many. Also, how erotic to make it? There’s nothing worse than bad erotica, whether you’re reading or watching it. We could have corsets, shifts and lots of ruffles and ribbons: vintage clothing can be more suggestive and erotic than plain, unadorned nudity. And what about the accents? Do we make our Kiwi actors speak their lines in fake French accents? Aïe aïe aïe, I have a feeling that this could turn très mal, so we need to be careful! Still, it’s a very exciting time, the world is filled with possibilties…

J’ai la possibilité de faire un film de mon histoire de Colette! Je vois déjà le film tout fini dans ma tête — bien sur, c’est un film sensuel, voluptueux et très beau.

Next Page »