Acknowledgments
I thank my husband, Bill, for all those months of caring for me, for the delicious dinners brought to me on trays, and for his incredible patience and abiding love.
I thank the good people at the Clinique Ambrose Par for their wonderful care.
I thank my Dad for all his support and wisdom. I thank my daughter for her creative inspiration. And I thank all my friends who encouraged me, in particular, Minter Krotzer, Jessica Lee, Deborah Krainin, Elizabeth Gold, Nancy Flavin, Deborah Davis, Anne MacAulay, Stephanie Hoffer, Beverly Aker, Julianna McCorkle (assistant extraordinaire!), Tess Link, and Laurie Graff. Oh, and thank you to Jan Elliot for teaching me to play French songs on the concertina, Kelly Johnson for the Zumba lessons and merci beaucoup to the Zumba girls for all the joie de vivre.
Much of this writing was done during fellowships with the Virginia Center for the Arts (one in Virginia and another in Auvillar, France) and I thank them for the time, the space, and the quiet to write. I could not have written this book without the generous French women and American women living in France who opened their doors to me. A big American thank-you goes out to Marjorie Van Halteren, Sylvie Gourlet, Tania Fovart, Beatrice Le Nir, Cheryl Fortier, Josie Mermet, Micheline Tanguy, Sylvia Benito, Heather Stimmler-Hall, Patricia Gellenter, Peter Havas and Coco, Vanessa Gerold, Frdrique Duviqnacq, Odile and the femmes of Rouen, Madame Cadolle, and Isabelle Avril.
I am particularly grateful to the amazing Paula Martin, my creativity and spiritual life coach. She held my hand when I had truly lost my way. I also want to thank my beautiful and brilliant French tutor, Marceline Colton, for all her patience and kindness and inspiration.
I thank my wonderful editor at Kensington, Audrey LaFehr; my brilliant agent, Irene Goodman; and my lovely publicist, Vida Engstand.
Finally, I am so very appreciative of all my sister-(and fellow)-Francophiles and the writers who share my passion for all things French. Youve inspired me so much. A big merci beaucoup goes out to my readers all over the world, whove written to me and shared their stories and secrets with me. I am moved beyond words. This book is for you.
A LSO BY J AMIE C AT C ALLAN
French Women Dont Sleep Alone
Bonjour, Happiness!
Finale
In order to be irreplaceable one must always be different.
COCO CHANEL
O OH LA LA can come from anywhere. You dont have to travel to France, like I did. It just so happened that this is where I found my ooh la la . For you, it might mean simply opening the front door and walking down your own street. You can find beauty in the most unexpected places. Look out at your backyard. Stare at the clouds. Daydream.
This is particularly important.
And finally, you will want to participate in this theater of life. Walk down the street, wearing your signature braids or your favorite fragrance or your green blouse or that blue feather boa. Give yourself permission to be completely yourself. This is how ooh la la works. It begins with one woman in one town, wearing something beautiful, unique, and perhaps artistic. This something could be as simple as a wool hat she bought at an artisan fair, but this woman with the hatshe is sending out the silent message to the next woman be yourself. And then, this next woman goes home, and takes out that favorite dress she had shoved away in the back of her closet. She cleans it, brings it to the tailor, and then she wears this dress around town. She gets compliments, and she feels the love, and she blossoms. And the more she wears this dress, the more it becomes iconic. And the more the dress becomes iconic, the more the woman becomes iconic.
And she gives other women inspiration to be iconic. To find their ooh la la.
In the sea of faces that look exactly the same, with the same smooth foreheads, and the same plumped-up lips, and the same hairstyle, wearing the same outfits and the same shoesthe woman who dares to be the artist and creator of her own unique self is a revolutionary and she has the power to change the world.
Yes, imagine a world where all the women decide they will be completely their own non-air-brushed, beautiful selves. That is ooh la la , and its available at this very moment to you. Just look into your heart.
CHAPTER ONE
You Had Me at Bonjour
How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something, but to be someone.
COCO CHANEL
I T IS A W ARM September day and I am in Paris, waiting in the reception area for my friend Isabelle. Isabelle is only in her late twenties, but this gal is wise beyond her years.
I sit on a little couch with a good view of the elevators and stairs, so I get to observe the French men and women, coming and going. Even from this very superficial viewpoint, its obvious that French professionalsor at least Parisian professionalsdress up more than Americans do. There doesnt seem to be a casual Friday , which has turned into a casual all-week-long . Still, I will say this, there are women wearing jeans, but they are stylish and well tailored, and the women add a cute blazer, a silk blouse, and always a scarf. Mostly, I see lots of skirts paired with boots.The skirts graze the knees so you catch just a glimpse of textured stockings. Its pretty, elegant, and intriguing.
Before long, Isabelle arrives. I stand to greet her, and in one simple sweep, she gently touches my shoulder and turns her head quickly this way, and then that, for the bises . The French greetingthe kiss on each cheek. Hello, Jamie! she says happily. She pronounces my name Jeemmee and it sounds so pretty, dressed up in this French accent, that I dont have the heart to correct her. She loves practicing her English with me and so for now, I am Jeemmee.
As we gather our things, I notice that Isabelle looks very different from the last time I saw her. Shes cut her hair shorter and she now has gold highlights. On our Mtro ride to her condo outside Paris in Boulogne-Billancourt, Isabelle tells me all about Madame Josie Mermet. Isabelle recently had a re-imaging session with her at the department store Printemps, and she tells me that Josie has changed her life!
Its truesince I last stayed with Isabelle, she has indeed been truly transformed. Yes, her hair is shorter and the highlights are beautiful, but more than this, Isabelle is happier. Its not just superficial color-analysis, Isabelle tells me as we walk into her apartment.
Isabelle brings out a little pot of herbal tea and a plate of what she calls biscuits, and continues, Josie Mermet reads your soul. She understands who you are meant to be in this world. Its very deep! Isabelle hands me the little cup and saucer and turns to me. Oh, and shes old, so shes got all that experience. This statement I find particularly delicious. I am about twenty-five years older than Isabelle and suddenly feel so appreciated. Its not simply that this French woman is teaching me things, but I suppose I can teach her things. Even if I am American! After all, I have experience !
Isabelle puts her teacup down and continues. She told me I must mix the styles up so my personality shows. And she says I have a pretty face and I need to show it. She does chromopsychology. Jeemmee, you have to meet her!
Isabelle goes to her desk and takes out a folder with lots of paper and drawings. While she does this, I bite into the biscuit and realize its not a biscuit or a cookie. Its a cracker. Hmm... its not sweet, but its tasty.