Before alienating the HCX French readership, this article does not advocate slapping the girl sitting next to you in your seminar or opposite you in the Forum on the basis of her nationality etc. Particularly as, if sheâs French, her slap will hurt more. And the glare will wither you to ashes. Napoleon may have lost the battle but when it comes to that “je ne sais quoi” our neighbours across the Channel win the war. Our stiff upper lips and fear of being even possibly, slightly, potentially, vaguely rude sometimes makes us British babes a bit boring in comparison. So the word on the grapevine is that we should be acting more French, and there are websites popping up all over the place to teach us the art of it. Thank you Geraldine Lepere at http://www.commeunefrancaise.com.
With tutorials on how to find your “vie en rose” and free weekly updates on how to Frenchify yourself, HCX undertook a little investigative journalism into what exactly it takes to live life like the archetypal French woman: did I have what it took to be the next Carla Bruni? Unable to order lâescargots and a bottle of Dom for lunch at The Vic, whose landlord forbids ownership of handbag sized pooches, we can still find the fun of being French on the Exe. Taking Geraldineâs tips on board, faking Frenchness starts well. Spritzed with Chance by Chanel, I grab a scarf and don a beanie (in Exeter, draw the âberetâ line at the beanie). The Co-op donât sell fresh baguettes or indeed fresh anything really, but the beauty of being Exeter gals mean we have the Forum and that means we have their fresh bakery aisle. In a scarf, beanie and carrying a baguette, you will now need to pop on the pre-requisite pout and glare. Perfecting it will make you late for your seminar, and you will have to refrain from profusely apologizing as the British do (whether theyâre at fault or no), because in French, “desolee” is a word reserved for funerals or a friends bad haircut. “Je suis tres desolee, you look like youâve been pulled through a hedge backwardsâ replaces the obligatory âIâm so sorryâ which is usually followed by confusion at your own apology because the reciprocate stood on your toes and youâre apologizing for their mistake.
So wearing a scarf, a beanie, laden with a baguette, running late, pouting and glaring, you must now buy fresh flowers (from M & S, as Exeter is sadly lacking in market stalls from along the Seine), before sitting down to a Cappuccino, cheese & biscuits and a copy of something by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. In reality, grab something from Costa and eat a cheese sandwich. Easier French elements to introduce into your life are wearing matching underwear, popping on some ‘rouge’ lipstick and Frenchifying your name e.g. Issy to Isabel with emphasis on th âelâ. And seductively whispering âVoulez vous couches avec moi ce soir?â (although this isnât advisable in Timepiece, as whether you meant it or not, someone will take you up on your offer).
Investigative journalism over, there are elements of elegance and elusiveness that we would do well to incorporate into our Exeter lives. But generally, being British really is better. Go to Lepereâs website to pick and choose what you fancy trying out in an effort to be French on the Exe.Â
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