Catherine Deneuve

In my more delusional moments (or when I’m just bored), I channel La Deneuve, once the face of Marianne (the national symbol of France) and arguably the most famous French actress in the world. I’m not sure why, as I look nothing like her, and while she projects an ice-queen aura and possesses a supernatural beauty that could probably launch a thousand Concordes, I’m the girl-next-door Filipina with looks that might launch a paper airplane. On a very windy day. By the sea.

Still, I thought of her as I was browsing through a photo book about Jacqueline Kennedy and her sartorial choices during her White House years. An extensive catalog of Jackie’s wardrobe for everything from casual family gatherings to state dinners, it provides a detailed interpretation of each singular outfit and how it influenced middle-class America’s style.

Unlike my admiration for all things Deneuve, my fascination with Jackie lies primarily in her fashion sense. I love the Givenchy suits and Cassini gowns, the casual-but-still-oh-so-striking outfits she’d don for Kennebunkport picnics and Virginia horseback rides. I recognize that she was a very intelligent, articulate and sophisticated woman with more than a little creative spark, but her photos have always left me a bit cold. The clothes are nearly always what I notice first, as her face — with that ever-present demure smile and small features — is too bland, boring, as if the woman had disappeared underneath all that glamour and glitz, leaving behind a shell that serves only as a hanger for a parade of designer ensembles. (I much preferred Jackie in her later years, when her face began to develop more interesting lines and shadows and her expressions became more animated. Even with her zeal for privacy, photographs of the older, wiser Jackie revealed a woman more able to enjoy life than she ever did as First Lady or Mrs. Onassis.)

Deneuve, on the other hand, is an arresting woman. From her deep-set eyes to her smoky voice, she can command attention simply by arching one of her famous eyebrows. I suspect that she’s even more mesmerizing in real life than she appears on her photos and films. The entire package suggests mystery, that elusive trait we Francophiles assign to Frenchwomen, and I — the middle-class Asian-American girl — would kiss one of her bejeweled fingers if it meant absorbing even a whiff of her indescribably allure.

When I lived in Japan, one of my dearest friends was a gorgeous young German from Cologne named Stephan. He lived in the village right next door to mine, and we would often spend hours on the phone together. During one conversation, I asked him what he thought of a pretty Japanese woman whom I had introduced to him, thinking that they might make a cute couple. He hesitated for a moment before cautiously saying, “Oh, I like her. She’s very nice.”

“Really? Then why do you sound so funny?” Midori, after all, owned a motorcycle. I figured that that alone would entice Stephan, a passionate rider himself.

“Uhm, well, she’s nice,” he repeated. “I don’t like nice.”

This was news to me. “But wait a sec, Stephan. I’m nice, or at least I’d like to think so. What’s wrong with being ‘nice’?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong with being nice,” he rushed to explain. “But…you’re different. You’re nice, but dangerous. That, I like.”

Wow. Until I met my husband, that was the most awesome thing a man had ever said to me.

Still, Catherine Deneuve represents “dangerous” on an entirely different level. She’s glamour and grace and beauty and chic and wisdom, all in one beautifully wrapped package. The woman is France, which is undoubtedly why she was chosen to embody Marianne. Although I’m sure she’s always impeccably turned out, as Coco Chanel would say, when I see Deneuve, I notice the woman, never the dress. It’s something I could never say about good ol’ Jackie O. I look forward to reading Deneuve’s new book, The Private Diaries of Catherine Deneuve: Close Up and Personal, which you can be sure I’ll be reviewing here.

Here are some links other Deneuve fans might find of interest:

Louis Vuitton 2007 ad campaign — Deneuve not only graces LV print ads with her divine presence, but also figures prominently on an entire section of the LV Web site. She narrates an extensive photographic tour of her favorite city called Paris by Catherine Deneuve, as well as an interactive page featuring her “fantasy trunk,” with items representing her travel must-haves. My favorite, though, is a short (maybe 3 minutes) video with some behind-the-scenes footage of the LV photo shoot with famed portrait photographer Annie Leibovitz.

A 2006 interview with Deneuve that showcases a different side of the famously private actress, one that seems more at home digging in the garden of her Normandy home than gliding down the red carpet at a Parisian film premiere.

A lengthy 2005 interview in which she talks in detail about her career, from working with Luis Bunuel on Belle du Jour to working with Burt Reynolds, whom she describes as having “a great sense of humour, for an American.” I love that the interviewer really probed with lots of questions about her various experiences working in film, as most of the articles I’ve seen of her in English here (only a handful, if even that much) focus largely on her beauty, her fashion sense, maybe her relationships with her leading men. This interview does an excellent job revealing the introspective, thoughtful side of Deneuve the working actress rather than the enigmatic icon.

Be Sociable, Share!

• 

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.