I have always adored
the film Gigi. The film unfurls across the screen in all its technicolour majesty,
as fresh as when it was made in 1958. The scenes are swaddled in red velvet and
trimmed with lace.
I have only just
recently read the novella. Golly I was blown away. Not only by my ability to
actually read something start to finish (why has life gotten in the way of
reading??) but the book has infinity more flair than the film. The language is
lush. The sentences are strung out with sensuality and tart with wit. Colette
is just marvellous!
It’s a coming of age
story in a most peculiar age. Set in Paris in 1899, young Gilberte, also known
as Gigi, is raised by her Grandmother and Aunt Alicia. Gigi’s mother makes
infrequent appearances and has even less to do with her upbringing.
It is not a standard
childhood; Gigi is being primed to become a courtesan. There are clear
expectations of how Gigi behave and what sort of society man is becomes
“involved” with. There are certain
pressures to perform as Grandmamma warns Gigi “we sink or swim together”.
What threatens them to
sink even involves how Gigi performs at the dinner table:
“The three greats
tumbling blocks in a girl’s education, she says (Aunt Alicia), are Homard Á L'Américaine, a boiled egg, and asparagus. Shoddy table manners, she says, have broken
up many a happy home.”
The lessons don’t just
involve table etiquette, but extend to posture, poise and even pastimes:
“Grandmamma says:
’Don’t read novels, they only depress you. Don’t put on powder, it ruins the
complexion. Don’t wear stays, they spoil the figure. Don’t dawdle and gaze at
shop windows when you’re by yourself. Don’t get to know the families of your
school friends, especially not the fathers who wait at the gates to fetch their
daughters home from school.”
These lessons often
fall flat as Gigi is “a bit scattered-brained in certain things and backward
for her age” and is "governed by the unconcern of childish innocence.” She
rather play cards with her Uncle Gaston, gossip and eat liquorice.
For being only
fifty-odd pages long I became utterly wrapped up in Gigi’s life and her journey to
womanhood – “she was losing some of her sweetness”. This journey is sped up by an unexpected proposition which forces Gigi to grow up quickly.
If Downton Abbey
leaves you leaving cold and pulse sluggish, then you my friend may adore Gigi.
The French certainty exchange more then chase looks and heaving sighs. Plus
Colette is an absolute wordsmith and awash with wanton witticisms.
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