Oui , vous tous.

Wednesday, December 2, 2015


Le Mépris, 1963


You like all of me? My mouth? My eyes? My nose? And my ears?

Yes, all of you. 

Then you love me... totally?

Yes. Totally... tenderly... tragically. 


Confession: wove in and out of the plot with this one, lost in the stunning visuals of the Italian coast and the vixen that is Brigitte Bardot. Wicked winged liner, a French iron bed frame to die for, the luxury of reading novels in a bathtub, an endless stairway to ascend into an endless blue, and to run away from tortured souls. Every girl should own a Vivre sa Vie-esque black 60's wig, which she wears to meet strangers and do the most mundane of chores in. 

p.s Though I've never spent a sun-drenched afternoon soaking in a bathtub, novel in one hand, cigarette in other, if Anne Fadiman's husband in Ex Libris (a collection of essays on the art and joy of reading and book-lovers) reads in a sauna, "where heat-fissioned pages drop like petals in a storm", I can only imagine the sadly dampened state of a long novel read in the haze of a luke-warm, sleepy bathtub...  


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