I feel like my ‘blue’ phase is going to last a lifetime. Keeping that in mind, I wanted to share an excerpt from a book I just finished reading (literally, I finished it tonight, and I’m posting this!).
In the eighties, this familiar tune could be heard over and over again on the radio, “I reached rock bottom of the pool, in my little navy sweater, with its rips at the elbows that I chose never to re-sew.”
We grew up on this refrain; we all imagined a stunningly beautiful girl in distress, with a V-neck sweater that matched the colour of her eyes. We’ve all wanted to steal that sweater from her, despite its holes, since it’s impossible to borrow her eyes. If we exaggerate a little, we could say that Isabelle Adjani invented navy blue. Or rather, that Serge Gainsbourg, who wrote this cult song, invented it for her. Gainsbourg was a mischievous lover. A painter at heart, he went so far as to corrupt a colour for a woman, a colour that until then in France was largely associated with firefighters’ uniforms. And, as is often the case, the Parisienne agrees with Serge. This particular blue is the one she’s adopted: it’s the colour of her jeans, of the thick scarf she ties around her neck in winter, the tint that is closest to black, the black that we cherish so much. To the point of breaking one of fashion’s most absolute commandments: Thou shalt not pair black with blue. A discreet rebellion, feeble at best. But the Parisienne doesn’t care, she prefers mystery to demonstration. At least, that’s how she consoles herself for this certain lack of imagination. And not unlike Adjani, she’s content with adding an accessory to her overly sober style: “wearing smoky shades to show everything I want to hide.”
–How To Be Parisian: Wherever You Are by Anne Berest, Audrey Diwan, Caroline de Maigret, Sophie Mas
