I mentioned buying Helena Frith Powell‘s book, All You Need to be Impossibly French, yesterday, but last night as I was tucking into bed to engage in my usual bedtime reading ritual, I picked up instead my old copy of Lucinda Holdforth’s True Pleasures: A Memoir of Women in Paris. A former Australian diplomat, Ms. Holdforth spent some time in Paris after losing interest in her high-paying but ultimately boring job as an international management consultant for a Sydney firm. (Sounds glamorous to moi, but then again, I’ve never done it myself.)
In any case, I’ve only read the first few pages but am already struck with how thoughtful the book is, unlike so many others written by expats extolling the virtues of a good croissant and/or the creamy, ethereal beauty of The Frenchwoman. Not that I don’t enjoy those books, of course (as my private collection of Francophile books may attest), but I do like to engage something other than my vanity at times and am always pleased to delve deeper into the nuances of French culture and intellect. In particular, I love the way Ms. Holdforth, uhm, holds forth (insert collective groan here) on the many women in history who’ve come to Paris in search of — what? Self-worth? Self-meaning? Freedom? A flowering of the mind? Perhaps all of these, or one, or even none. Whatever the case, Holdforth writes very intimately, divulging in dribs and droplets her own unnamed longing for something outside of her cushy, corporate existence.
I once read that London was made for men, while Paris was, is and has always been for women. I’ve only been to London once, and for three days at that, but I would tend to agree. Its somber, gray atmosphere and quiet street aggressiveness ooze a kind of masculine veneer. But while I’ve never been to Paris and have only enjoyed its charms through the eyes of writers, bloggers, journalists, and cinematographers, I imagine it to be a city of unabashed feminine grace, bursting with virginal purity in spring and withdrawing demurely into its cozy interior self in the winter. It’s an impression that Ms. Holdforth does nothing to dispel, and I look forward to reading more of Nancy Mitford and others who fell under the city’s enchanting spell and whose lives were changed forever because of it.
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It sounds like a fascinating book, more than just a better-written sightseeing tour, something deeper, more visceral. But on the London contre Paris chose, I’d rather be in the latter. Paris may be – well, is – more feminine, but it’s cetainly the more alluring city for some of us men, too!
Dear Randal,
Merci for your comment and for visiting my blog!
I’m sorry, I certainly didn’t mean to imply that Paris is the exclusive domain of women. Its charms and allure have drawn both sexes for centuries, including that most “masculine” of twentieth-century men, Ernest Hemingway. However, I do think that the city’s graceful vistas and history have long held special appeal to the feminine aesthetic and intellect.
I do think that men shouldn’t assume that simply because a city or anything else is decidedly feminine in nature, that it somehow does not and/or cannot possibly interest men. I’ve always loved London for its strength, its gray formality and stiff courage, and while it does evoke a masculine vibe vis-a-vis Paris, I’m certainly not going to say that because of that alone, the city doesn’t speak to me. I suppose I’m one of those who believes that each one of us is imbued with the characteristics of each sex, and while I’m decidedly more one than the other, I heartily embrace my masculine side when it pleases me.
If you do ever read the book, I’d love to hear your take on it! I’d be very interested in hearing the male point of view in regards to its theme.
Funny…my husband has always been more drawn to London (the rest of England, Scotland and Ireland as well) than to France. However, since I’m the “travel agent” in our family, I always come up with the reasons and the way to get to France.
I think it’s ‘cuz he’s a guy. lol
He claims he’s more drawn to English things because of his crooked teeth.
CC, I agree. I think the image of the United Kingdom as a whole (fox hunting, pub society, stiff-upper-lip character, sports mania) really appeals to a great many men. My husband likes none of these, of course, and prefers Paris’ food, wine and cafe life. Lucky me.
Salut,
Marjorie
Oh don’t worry, I didn’t mean to imply that’s what you were saying. And that’s part of Paris’ appeal for me, the architecture, the lines, the depth of history, how everything is so artful and elegant compared to most other cities, how it was done with a purpose towards beauty.
Now, when I’m feeling quite Beowulf-y, I’d gladly head on over to England. But you’re spot-on about the characteristics. We all have a masculine and feminine side. I get pumped up when watching Raiders of the Lost Ark, and cry at the end of Immortal Beloved. Though are either of those things inherently masculine and/or feminine? Not really subject for a comment nor a post, but a multi-volume set!
Randal, you might like True Pleasures. The author writes of Paris history through the eyes of its women, and by extension she views the architecture and skyline of the city with a very sensitive, romantic eye. And she usually writes in the 1st person so that you can almost feel that you’re with her as she sits in a cafe, drinks beer (!) and munches on cheese, and thinks about Germaine de Stael or Colette or George Sand.
I love classic “guy” movies, especially the so-called postmodern ones where the heroes are seriously flawed and the obligatory “male bonding” scenes are almost touching in their awkwardness and sincerity. My favorites have been Swingers and Bottle Rocket. They speak to the part of me that wants to believe that men are far more complicated than they often let on!
Salut,
Marjorie
I’ve already ordered a copy through Interlibrary Loan. But I’ll pass on the beer, I’ve never like it all that much.
Swingers is a great flick and a great example of what you’re talking about. I’d like to believe that each of us is more complicated than we’d like to believe. It’s merely a matter of breaking down whatever barriers are thrown up before us, whether societal, familial, or of our own making. I know I don’t see anything wrong with enjoying both American football (and the other kind) and love sonnets!
Randal,
I do think that part of the problem is that we are so entrenched in our stereotypes about each other that we refuse to even peek over the fence and check out what goes on on the other side.
Case in point: Swingers, one of the best movies of the ’90s. I’ve tried to get some of my women friends to watch it, but they refuse. They have this idea (not helped by Vince Vaughn’s more recent film choices) that it’s the typical misogynistic “guy flick,” and no amount of persuasion on my part will convince them otherwise.
Fortunately, I think things are changing, albeit slowly. There was a time when the barriers between men and women were very real, very entrenched in society, so there is hope that, while we will never be totally gender-neutral in our social and cultural discourse, we’ll at least be more self-aware and open to the points of view of others.
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