On the trail of the authentic French maid

 I’ve just spent a few days in France and I came across a couple of French maids. 

One was alive and well and cleaned my hotel room. The other was a dummy in a museum. Neither was wearing the classic French Maid outfit so beloved of TGirls, hen parties and the like. 

Live maid was very slim and wore a sensible top and leggings. It’s what I wear at home for cleaning, too, though I envied her slim frame. 

(That, Sue, is because she does hard physical work all day, and isn't slouched over the computer stuffing her gob with chocolates.) …Sorry, the voice of my Inner Valkyrie interjecting there.

As for dummy maid, well, here she is. 

None of that black minidress stuff. So I don’t know where the modern concept of the French maid came from.

This was in the local museum in Fréjus in Provence, which had a lot of other nineteenth-century female outfits, which I am happy to copy here since I know it sets some readers' hearts a-flutter. Here in Provence a lace cap and lace shawl were essential, though. I like lace myself (see final pic).

Fréjus was very interesting as it used to be a Roman naval base. Despite the huge number of Roman remains scattered everywhere, from harbour walls with a complete lighthouse to monumental gateways, theatre, amphitheatre, aqueduct, and a fort that was so solid it was used again as such in World War II, the town makes very little of it all. There’s scope for a Roman theme park here, especially as it’s where Cleopatra’s fleet was moored after the Romans had captured it. Throw in Astérix, too, if you like!

Roman harbour wall with lighthouse

Aqueduct in a local park

           

Roman tower that's now a block of flats

 

The quays at the new marina are named after the commanders of that war: Cleopatra, Antony, Agrippa … and there are some modern sculptures celebrating the Pelagos Whale Sanctuary, which covers a large section of the Northern Mediterranean. The whales like it here as the water is somewhat cooler than the rest of the Med, which must surely be a consideration if you have to go around with a blubber overcoat. 

For British readers, this is where Agricola, one-time Roman governor of Britain was born.

On a strangely related note, supermarkets in the Med usually have an out-of-the-way rack with “weird” foreign foods like baked beans, soy sauce, maple syrup, tacos and the like, but here at the Intermarché all this stuff, from ramen noodles to pickled gherkins, is labelled “Anglo-Saxon products”.

That made me laugh. Doubtless, Agricola would have approved. Barbarians are all much the same, right? 

Although the nearby Cannes Film Festival has opened with two films on love between women, La Vie d’une femme and Nagi Notes, I didn’t spot any LGBT history in Fréjus, despite having my regular travelling companions, Luggy the LGBT Crab and Lizzy the Lesbian Lobster, to sniff these things out. But here’s Luggy at the Roman arena, ready to take on the gladiators.

There were plenty of hybrid medieval critters painted in the rafters of the cathedral cloister, though. Being neither one thing nor another is a bit similar to being trans sometimes.

And I did have a nice moment when I stopped for a shop owner on the pavement who was taking photos of two prettily dressed models in the doorway of her boutique. “Merci, madame,” she said to me. Despite my having no fem hair and makeup, something made her recognise my status. No, don’t apologise, I’m happy with “madame”.



The food blog

This being France, I wanted to make it a bit of a gastronomic trip, too, and treat myself to some really good food even if it stretched my budget. 

The local cuisine is both meat and fish based, with plenty of fresh vegetables. The best restaurant was L’Amandier where I had a lovely smoked trout and goat’s cheese starter, slow-braised chicken breast, basil gravy and spring vegetables that was amazing, and a banana sorbet with chocolate tart to finish. I had no idea you could sorbet a banana but evidently you can. I must experiment. Nice local white wine, too, and pleasant, unhurried service. Incidentally, the lady in charge had the most beautiful, multicoloured, pleated, floaty, three-quarter length skirt and I really want one like it. 

Autres Ray’son is another specialist in local recipes. A friendly place where I enjoyed a good fresh salad with ham, some grilled fish (not so keen on the garlic rice, though), and a fabulous ice-cream sundae. Also nice was Brasserie Hermès in the pretty main square where I enjoyed the day’s special of pork terrine with crunchy bread, followed by a good veal escalope with mushrooms, and a perfect chocolate mousse. Efficient, friendly service there, too. And a nice location near the mini cathedral, town hall and fountain:

There are few ethnic restaurants in Italy so I take advantage when I go to France. Le Mahana’s Polynesian fried chicken in sauce with an exotic salad was delicious. Great cocktails there, too. 

Vietnamese cuisine is one of my favourites and Viet d’Azur had some nice nems (like spring rolls), and an excellent noodle dish with pork and mixed veg. As for the shredded iced coconut, that was special. Give me coconut and I’m your friend for life! 

By the way, although I rarely drink beer, the relaxed Old School pub by the harbour has an excellent selection of Belgian beers and I enjoyed my favourite beer there, Kwak ambrée. Here’s an old photo from 2018 with a Kwak ... and Provence-appropriate lace. Cheers!

Anyway, I’m home now and back to my favourite hobbies of trying new nail varnishes and testing perfumes. More on that another day …

Sue x

Chic and Awe: ancient jewellery and lifestyle; modern highs and goofs

There's ugliness in the world, and there's beauty and achievement that inspires real awe. I'm concentrating on the latter today with a post about jewellery and ancient toiletries, an amazing statue and its restorers, reaching for the stars and what the crazy algorithm has been up to. 

 

Stunning jewellery and beauty kits from ancient times 

I went to Rome to see Villa Giulia in the lovely Borghese Gardens, which houses the Etruscan Museum. The Etruscans lived in west-central Italy and 28-27 centuries ago they were at the height of their wealth and culture. This museum proves it with some amazing and exquisite works of art and above all - at least for this TGirl's interests - lots of beautiful items of female toiletry and jewellery. 

This decorated bronze casket is a cista for keeping your beauty kit in - makeup, perfume, combs, brushes, mirrors and the like.

 

Decorated bronze mirrors. You can polish the smooth rear side to a high shine.

 

There's none of the shower gel and exfoliating scrub that we put up with these days. Etruscan household staff would rub the ladies with oil and exfoliate their skin with one of these bronze strigils till it was smooth and glowing. Ah, when bathtime was a pampering ceremony, not an afterthought!

 

I've done what I can to take good photos of jewellery through glass cases with lights reflecting off but here is a breakdown of distinct fashion phases: 

(1) Iron Age (8th C BC), statement pieces with metal pendants and big rocks (maybe an heirloom from Grandma Flintstone).

(2) "Oriental style" (7th C BC), very different and heavily influenced by Phoenician (Syrian/Lebanese) trade.

(3) The "Archaic" phase (6th C BC), much more delicate and pretty with very detailed goldwork.

 

There's nothing to see from the 5th Century BC because of the economic collapse occasioned largely by Persian expansionist pressures on the West. The tragedy of US foreign policy this past century is the American failure to understand that other nations have long histories. The 2500 year old rivalry and mistrust between the West and Persia/Iran is a wound best left unprobed. (Meh, who's listening?)

(4) The "classical" phase (4th-2nd Cs BC). Someone was evidently interested in stars and moons.

 

(5) The "Hellenising" phase, i.e. Greek influence with its colourful stones.

 

(6) The Romans, who absorbed the neighbouring Etruscans into their own state, really knew a thing or two about jewellery.

 

(7) For contrast and comparison, they also have a medieval jewellery section.

 

(8) There were then many cases full of imitations of these ancient pieces made in the last 500 years. No one knows when humans first started to decorate their bodies (humans? lots of animals do it, too) but it's a lot of fun and I was spellbound by all this pretty stuff.

 

Awed by a statue

In January I went to Genoa and stood in awe of one of the world's most famous musical instruments (last item here). In this museum there is a wonderful statue of a couple reclining on a couch, the Sarcophagus of the Spouses. They both have braided hair but she wears a soft hat and pointed shoes, he is barefoot and bare chested. I would love to have her ankle-length dress.

This terracotta piece is over 2500 years old and I cannot put in words just how alive they look, how happy they seem together and how beautiful the craftsmanship is. I first saw this 30 years ago and bought a poster of it which hung in my kitchen for many years. 

This time it was being restored, hence the Wiki picture above rather than my own, but you could visit the restoration rooms and, although the statue had been disassembled, you could get right up close as the restorers cleaned its sections and chatted about it. I was so impressed by the schoolkids' there because of their fascination and the intelligent questions they asked. I am just spellbound by this beautiful artwork and was thrilled to be allowed this close to it.

 

The lower halves of their bodies have been restored already and put back in the museum. The memory plays odd tricks, though. I could have sworn she had heels on her shoes but they are flat. 

 

 

I did remember her shoelaces correctly, though. And the pleats of her dress.

 

One restorer was saying how much she'd love it if a modern shoe manufacturer would make shoes like this now. I so envied the restorers their job. 

Caption: 

"Be happy," they said. 

"Throw your hands in the air like you just don't care," they said. 

And that's how I lost my job as a museum restorer!

 

Anyway, I found it enthralling and beautiful. You may like to compare this visit to my recent trip to the Museum of Perfume in Grasse, France. 

And is it a wonder that in the 18th Century Josiah Wedgewood named his pottery in Staffordshire, England, Etruria after the land of the Etruscans where all the ancient art that he modelled his pieces on was found? 

 

Modern awe

I watched the blast-off of the Artemis II rocket the other evening. On CBS they and NASA made all the right noises about human destiny. progress and achievement, etc., so that made it seem so much like the exciting old days of the space race again. Yes, we know it's about rivalry and exploitation really, but we need dream fulfilment, too. It was delightful to listen to Harrison Schmitt, the last man to have walked on the moon, still lively and sparkle-eyed at 90, talk about spaceflight missions old and new. (You know, the old guard of space pioneers are uniquely fascinating, like Buzz Aldrin of Apollo 11, whom I heard talk at my school in the '80s, or Alexei Leonov, the first man to spacewalk, who gave an enthralling talk at the Science Museum in London during the incredible Cosmonauts exhibition in 2015). 

Much as I detest the squalling brat currently in charge in the USA, this is a great achievement. When I was little we really thought our future lay in the stars; now I'm a little jaded and confess that I'm not sure the stars deserve to suffer our visits! But let's see what comes of it.

 

Modern oopsies

At the end of February I invited people to suggest a caption for this funny looking cactus I saw outside the Grimaldi Castle / Picasso Museum in Antibes, France.

 

The inimitable Lynn Jones of Yet Another Trans Girl Blog fame did more than that and made the cactus more expressive.

Thank you, Lynn. Your prize of a bag of best succulent potting compost is on its way. (By which I mean it's intended for potting succulents, not that it itself is succulent, just to be clear. But you're free to eat it if you want.)

This image is now the Official Whacky Cactus Hilarity Award (or OWCHA! for short) for thorny issues that crop up in unintended, misunderstood or unexpected ways. 

And this week the award goes to the Almighty Algorithm that suggested a charming video made last year by Iranian Tours inviting me to visit the delights of Kharg Island. The main sights in this lesser-known holiday destination being oil pipelines, a date plantation and a few tombs. I hear it's lovely at this time of year. Maybe I should hurry and book before the proportion of pipelines to tombs changes.

 

Easter 

Wishing you a nice easter weekend. If you have an easter bonnet, do wear it with a pretty spring frock. But if you have a bunny costume, it's time to pop that on instead. Enjoy the chocolate. Diet starts Tuesday.

Sue x 

Celebrity quest, the sacred feminine and food news

More from my recent trip to Provence, focusing on Cannes.
 
Celeb culture

Lizzy the Lesbian Lobster, who now travels with me, likes LGBT history and during our recent trip to Southern France she was keen to spot a few monuments to queer or possibly queer celebrities. Like the home (now a hotel) of American writer F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda at Juan-les-Pins in the mid-1920s. I regard Fitzgerald as a very fine writer and I'm just about to start his novel Tender Is the Night. 

He wasn't necessarily bi but I'd call him 'sexually anxious', in much the same way that he was anxious about his social status in the Jazz Age that he describes so well. Some have read hints of his being homosexual in his writing, others merely that he was desperate not to be perceived as gay or bi or less than masculine. It doesn't matter to me; what is upsetting is that he should have had to live in a society where he could end up so preoccupied with how people saw his sexuality and how he could fear that he was in so may ways an outsider. A salute from Lizzy, therefore, for outsiders who struggle, here at the former Fitzgerald home.

And if the Jazz Age interests you, how about this amazing curvaceous villa on the Cap d'Antibes, about a mile from the Fitzgeralds', called Villa Aujourd'hui (Wiki article here).

Aujourd'hui is the French for Today, which was the name of the first owner's other home in Palm Beach. She sold it to Jack Warner of Warner Bros who entertained all sorts of Hollywood stars there. You can see over the bay to Cannes from this house and that's where we find much of today's Hollywood aristocracy hanging out at the film festival. Their handprints are outside the tourist office. Jodie Foster gets the Lizzy the Lobster LGBT award.

Cannes is not really my sort of place. Too much ostentatious wealth, designer shops and celeb culture. But I did appreciate the innumerable blue chairs that the public can arrange at will on the three mile long leafy promenade.

The famous Carlton Hotel, below:

 

Having just visited Grasse, the French perfume capital, I couldn't help being reminded of the famous 1990 advertisement for Chanel's L'Égoïste which was set in a mock-up of it (L'Égoïste ad). 

But one really great discovery in Cannes that I recommend is the Malmaison Contemporary Art Centre on the promenade. As I wandered past, I was in two minds about going in to see the current exhibition, but the work of Carole Benzaken was actually pretty nice in an excellent display space and, best of all, there is a pleasant rooftop bar, the Café Olympe, with a terrace that looks out over the promenade and the beach to the Cap d'Antibes and the Lérins islands. It's worth paying the low entry fee of €6.50 just to go to the café even if you don't look at the art.

Away from the luxury stuff, the old town of Cannes is like many along this coast, a steep hilltop village overlooking the sea. Now the shops in its main streets are restaurants selling overpriced pizza and burgers so has lost some charm. 

But at the top there's an old church, a castle and a tiny but enchanted public open space, the Square du Caroubier, with a carob tree and olive trees, palms and cycads, rosemary and lavender and other fragrant plants. The benches, walls, even the rubbish bin are covered in patterned tiles in collaboration with the Malmaison Centre.

 

Such a tranquil, fragrant spot. 

 

The Sacred Feminine 

In the castle at the very top of the hill is one of the oldest anthropology museums, which had a special exhibition of ancient images of women carved in stone, Démones et Déesses (Demons and Goddesses). I call it the sacred feminine, but no conclusions were drawn by the curators: are these stone-age statuettes (so often called "Venuses") cult objects? toys? something sinister? or have people simply always liked images of naked women with big boobies and obvious genitalia? It has to be said that France is probably the only place in the world where you can happily take your family to an exhibition of outsize genitalia without inhibitions. The twin domes of the Carlton Hotel above are a tribute to the breasts of local socialite La Belle Otero, after all! 

Prehistoric "Venus" from Greenland, carved in walrus ivory

Tearful siren. Sirens were half-woman, half-bird, from ancient Greece. Hybrid creatures were seen as tormentors of mankind and the story of Ulysses hearing siren song but not being devoured by them is famous enough. Condemned to be not fully woman may account for her weeping. I know how she feels!

I'm not sure the exhibition did my dysphoria much good but, anyway, it was interesting with some precious items. If you prefer something decent and wholesome that will bring you down to earth, here is a royal male personage decently clad in decorated Y-fronts from 6th-Century B.C. Cyprus. Princes in their underpants! Whatever next?

 

 

And as a last word on enthnography, here's one of those Polynesian carvings that, when I was young, was deemed by the likes of Erich von Däniken and others to be proof of alien visitation.

Now the Cold War is over there seem to be far fewer UFOs in the sky, and now the hippies have moved into software engineering, we seem to hear less about aliens, too. Bring back the nutters! ...What? No, I mean harmless ones!

More weird statuary next week as an antidote to current nuttiness. If that makes sense.
 

Foodie news

Well, that's enough on celebrity sexuality and divine bodies. More important than all that is the fact that, although the food where I live in NW Italy is excellent and is that all-healthy Mediterranean diet, there's not actually a lot of variation. In France, however, not only do you have good food, you also have greater regional variety and many foreign restaurants. Personally, I prefer to be adventurous and try new foods, so I avoid chain restaurants. Besides, chains are not as cheap as they claim. A small, local, family-run business is worth supporting,  especially as they take pride in what they do.

On my trip to Provence, therefore, I visited an Indian restaurant (which you never find in Italy) and enjoyed a curry; a Thai restaurant, where I enjoyed a stir-fry; and a US-style restaurant for a quality burger and chocolate brownie. 

As for French regional cuisine, I enjoyed pancakes from Brittany, a savoury one with cheese, smoky bacon and mushrooms to start with, and a sweet one with Nutella and whipped cream (they have a whipped cream machine there that provides endless cream, like in some fairy tale). It makes a change to drink cider or apple juice with your meal. I also found a Corsican restaurant where they had Corsican beef on black bread ... black not because it was rye bread; no, it was black from squid ink, and that made it quite squishy! The pudding was a pinsa, which is like pizza bread but topped with chocolate sauce and hazelnuts and it was HUGE but really delicious. 

Top marks, though, to the Bistrot de Grand Mère right at the top of the hill in Cannes that served me a three-course Normandy-style lunch that for quality, quantity and price was unbeatable: a huge piece of pork terrine with crusty baguette and salad; a big, packed bowl of roast guinea fowl with onions, mushrooms, vegetables and cream sauce; and finally a double sized chocolate mousse. I go nuts for French chocolate mousse (especially if it's double size). The small spoon to eat it with was cheekily shaped like a shovel! I spotted this place after that disappointing line of overpriced pizzas in the road up to old Cannes from the swanky end of town and it met my needs perfectly. It pays to look around and not settle for the nearest.

Another good French experience was at the Café des Musées in Grasse where just two waiting staff worked with an efficiency and a charm that was super professional. The roast pork tenderloin with veg there was really good and the chocolate mousse (essential, see above) was perfect. 

When I got home after ignoring my slimming regime so thoroughly, I found I had barely put on weight. I must've walked it all off!

Sue x 

A trans-resonant fairy tale from Iceland

 Over the last year or so I've been collecting a series of books of Scandinavian folk tales to read on trains, partly because the edition is unusually slim and fits nicely in the pockets of a coat or bag, and partly because they are curious and entertaining stories, a testament to life before heavy industry and urbanisation. 

A lot of scholars wrote down folk tales in the nineteenth century to preserve them, although they often altered them to make them more consistent and readable. The Brothers Grimm (Germany) or W.B. Yeats (Ireland) or Joel Chandler Harris (African-American) are among the best known such collectors.

Very many of these Scandinavian stories are about how to steal valuables from witches, or rescue princesses from trolls who can be made to explode in various imaginative ways. But one tale from Iceland resonated very much and I think you'll see why. 

Before telling you the story, first let's look at the Icelandic notion of the world of Men and the world of Elves. Most pagan Norse tales and religious practices have come to us via the subsequent writings of medieval Christian monks and priests, in the same way that we know a lot about Greek and Roman pagan practices and beliefs because Augustine and others described them in order to criticise them. So why there are Men and Elves (the Hidden Folk) in separate realms has come down to us in this way:

Once upon a time, God went to visit Adam and Eve, so Eve started bathing her children to make them presentable but she only managed to wash half of them before God entered the house, so she hid the dirty ones away. God praised Eve for her beautiful children but since there seemed to be fewer children than he remembered, he asked if she didn't have more. Eve, embarrassed, denied it, but God wasn't fooled and said that those who had been hidden from him should be hidden to men, too. And so it came to pass that Eve's children whom God had seen became the race of Men and those who had been hidden became the race of Elves, remaining invisible to Men unless they wished to be seen. This is why they are called the Hidden Folk.

And so, with that information, we come to the Tale of King Oddur. It's not a long story but I have shortened it and emphasised the more interesting details.

The Tale of King Oddur 

 Once upon a time there was a king who was loved by his people but who thought it a pity that he was childless. One day another king named Oddur came from far away with an army and the king was defeated and died in battle. Oddur then reigned over his kingdom instead. Like his predecessor, he soon became loved by the people, though they also thought it a pity that he was childless. 

One day a stranger came asking for lodging over the winter and King Oddur accommodated him in the palace on the condition that on the first day of summer he should tell a secret about the king that nobody else knew, on pain of execution.

The winter came and passed but on the first day of summer, the stranger was unable to tell any secret that he had discovered about the king. And so he was executed.  

The following winter, the same thing happened: a stranger came asking for lodging over the winter and and the king accommodated him in the palace on the condition that on the first day of summer he should tell a secret about the king that nobody else knew, on pain of execution.

The winter came and passed but on the first day of summer, this stranger was also unable to tell any secret that he had discovered about the king. And so he too was executed.  

So it continued for a further four years. Until in the seventh year, when another stranger came and made the same request. He was duly accommodated in the palace on the same conditions as the previous six. He accepted but also requested that, if the king was agreeable, he would like to sleep in the king's own bedchamber. King Oddur agreed to the stranger's additional request.

For a long time the stranger was unable to find out any secrets about the king even though he always stayed close to him. By night, the king slept soundly and did not talk in his sleep; by day he only talked about known affairs of state. 

On Christmas Eve, however, the king got up in the middle of the night, checked to see if his guest was asleep, and crept out of the bedchamber. The stranger was, in fact, awake and just feigning sleep, and stealthily followed the king out of the palace, through the grounds, across a river and into a different land where there was much revelry. 

For a moment, the stranger lost sight of the king but when he saw him again his kingly robes were being removed and he was instead being dressed in a beautiful dress and ornaments fit for a queen. A king approached and greeted this queen with much affection and the stranger realised that King Oddur in the realm of Men was actually a queen here. The king and queen went to preside over a great banquet at the palace and the stranger was able to follow them in unseen and hide near their thrones.

The king whispered to the queen, "Has anyone guessed your secret yet? This is the seventh and last year that this curse on you could be lifted by a stranger speaking the truth about you. Without that, we will be separated for ever."

The queen looked at the king sadly and said that she had left the latest stranger asleep at the palace and was worried that no-one would ever know her secret and that she would never be released from the curse and be able to live as the queen in her rightful realm. 

That's all the stranger needed to know. He sneaked away and returned to the palace the way he had come and by the time King Oddur had returned to the bedchamber, the stranger was genuinely asleep, snoring contentedly.

King Oddur became more and more preoccupied as winter wore on and his ministers and counsellors could see his worry but not even their best news could cheer him up. The first day of summer came and the king summoned the stranger and asked him if he was able to tell a secret about him that nobody else knew.

The stranger replied that the only thing he knew was that the king had other clothes that were far more fetching than those which he wore in this world of Men.

The curse was lifted. King Oddur, with tears and affection, embraced the stranger, and, without revealing more, called his entourage and told them that he was leaving his kingdom to the stranger so as to return to his true home.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The translator feels that the main character may be transgender, or is at least of ambiguous gender. It's not actually clear as Oddur inhabits two split and incompatible realms in which they have different gender roles. What resonated with me, though, was the feeling that one's female life is the real one whereas in the human world one has to play a fake male role that someone else has designated. And that we are often wanting others to know our true nature so that we can live authentically and happily, escaping what, to all intents and purposes, is a curse. Interestingly, Oddur doesn't reveal more to the bystanders and is content that just one worthwhile person knows of her reality. 

Maybe you feel something similar after reading the story, or maybe it doesn't resonate at all. 

Over the years, I've presented historical and cultural material, much of it very ancient, that to me suggests that gender variance is common to all ages and cultures and should be regarded as a normal part of human experience. Obviously, some experience and see gender variance more than others, but I have never come across any age or place that has ever been totally binary.

Sue x 

A day in the perfume capital of France

 Do you like makeup and perfume? 

That's probably a silly question. Of course you do or you wouldn't be here!

Last week I went to the small hilltop town of Grasse in south-east Provence. It's a pretty place with some nice little shops, and a fine view over the surrounding countryside.

Grasse is also the perfume centre of France where traditional plants such as lavender and rose were grown and transformed into perfume. Nowadays, the perfume industry gets natural fragrances more cheaply from exotic locations or in chemistry labs so although it's still the home of companies like Fragonard, the industry is no longer what it was.

They've set up the International Perfume Museum to record that history and the human use of fragrances and makeup. It's a huge, rambling yet well laid out museum and you need a couple of hours to see the thousands of beautiful artifacts. Of course, they have a lot of perfume making machinery, too, but I confess I'm not much into industrial heritage. I was, however, mesmerised by the thousands of perfume bottles and makeup items, and not just modern ones either but lovely Roman glass bottles and beautiful Greek sculptured and painted earthenware ones. I felt there were a few omissions but the topic of posh pongs is so vast they have to be selective.  

Maybe it's simplest just to post a basic commentary with my favourite photos (click to enlarge) ...

... like this stunning ancient Greek perfume bottle in the shape of a warrior's head that you could hold in your clasped hand and would have contained scented oil.

 

Below, kohl pots and applicators from ancient Egypt (top) and mid-late first millennium Byzantium and Syria (bottom). 

I like to use kohl myself, although I appreciate the modern formula is different from the traditional ones. Lead-free is good! Perhaps the best known kohl wearer was Jezebel in the Bible who painted her eyes with it just before her assassination she knew was coming. This is the sort of pot she'd have had on her dressing table. (Another famous queen whose makeup set was her undoing is mentioned below).

The eighteenth-century has the best artifacts, though. Like this box containing beauty spots and an applicator brush. 

Everything in the eighteenth century was not merely functional but beautifully decorative. Like, below, this lady's beauty kit (top) and gentleman's grooming kit (bottom). Obviously, these items were for the very wealthy, but decoration was deemed an essential part of life. I can't help feeling we've lost a lot now that things are functional but 'design' has replaced decoration.

Below, exquisite perfume bottles (top) and steel and gold grooming kit in a column (bottom).

 

 

 

Early nineteenth-century blusher sets. Not so handy as today's plastic ones which fit in your handbag. But that's why you have a maid!

This one belonging to Hortense de Beauharnais, married to Napoleon's brother Louis, who was King of Holland from 1806-10 until his big brother took the kingdom off him. Napoleon was first married to Hortense's mother, the famous Joséphine. Keep it in the family, eh. 

Perfume bottles from the same era. Just wow!

Pomanders from (left) Austria and (right) India. We don't use these any more but you would carry them and sniff them if you came across any bad smells, like undrained streets, people with the plague ... or the lower castes. 

And now for the thousands of perfumes of the last century in case after case arranged by year (left) or style (right: 1920s spray bottles and modern miniatures). 

 

Just a handful of favourite bottles below. Of course, the designer bottle can be as much part of the allure as the contents. Having worked for one well-known fragrance company, I can tell you that the bottle and packaging can represent more of the cost to the customer than the liquid within. The glass and packaging, although machine made now, is often finished by hand.

I'd not heard of Shocking before, but I like the whole look. It's a very expensive fragrance launched in 1937.

 

Calèche by Hermès, as was. Love the chunky bottle, love the colour. Like dousing yourself in absinthe! 

Below, the upper bottles from the 1920s are shaped like cicadas. I couldn't help thinking of the line from Silence of the Lambs with its symbolic moths, "You use Evyan skin cream, and sometimes you wear L'Air du Temps, but not today." 

Love Guerlain's La Petite Robe Noire (Little Black Dress)

Perfumes from Vietnam in national dress bottles.

Beautiful blackberry shaped bottle and case. Good enough to eat.

Two of the items took me back. One was Brut for Men! Advertised in the UK by boxer Henry Cooper with the slogan in his rough, manly voice, "Splash it all over! It freshens you up and makes you smell nice," in a series of adverts in the 1970s with other sportsmen in changing rooms that all the celebrities involved insisted were totally not homoerotic! Some claim the original formula was a chemical hazard!

 

And girls, there's Charlie too (4th from left), which was always something of the female equivalent.

Brut and Charlie together: like Brotherhood of Man in bottled form!

Anyway, the museum has given a special case to the ultimate classic, Chanel no 5, rendered iconic by Marilyn Monroe and Andy Warhol.

As far as the history of local perfume making goes, I was moved and enthralled by these photos of Grasse perfume workers, the first showing women knee and elbow deep in rose petals in the late nineteenth century, the second sorting flowers in the inter-war years. Can you imagine the heady scent of fresh flowers, the delicate petals between your fingers and those wonderful Victorian dresses or the cute hairstyles of the 1920-30s. I can think of worse factory jobs and workwear than these.

 

The most significant item of historic interest there is Marie Antoinette's travelling case, with tea, coffee and chocolate pots as well as necessities for her hair, face and general toilette.

The item is not just a beautiful and precious product; it was her tragic undoing. They made two of these sets and she was dithering which one to send to her sister whilst preparing to flee France as the monarchy lost control over the pace of reform. This was the second set, not quite complete at the time, hence her dithering over which to use herself and which to give away. A maid became suspicious of the queen's motives for sorting her travelling cases, reported her to the revolutionaries and she and the king were intercepted during their escape. They both lost their heads. There's an alternative history to be considered if Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette had successfully made it out of France. As it was, her vanity was their undoing, and here is the awful if elegant proof.

The museum has a pleasant garden with roses, oranges and other fragrant plants in. 

They also maintain a large working fragrance garden you can visit a few miles down the road at Mouans-Sartoux.

In the basement there are rooms dedicated to temporary exhibitions of modern artists. There was a pleasant enough exhibition of local landscapes in watercolour by Ferdinand Springer.

Here's a link to the museum website in English: MIP

Well, it's a beautiful facility full of stunning stuff and the entry fee of only €6.00 is exceptional value. And, as I said, the little town of Grasse itself is worth visiting, with its quirky cathedral in many styles, its walls and old towers, its shops and cafés and other museums. Here's the view from the top over the countryside that was once largely given over to plants for perfume.

 

More on things to see in this area of the Maritime Alps and the Côte d'Azur in my post this time next week.

Smell you later. 

Sue x