I have fond memories of the first time I saw Masculin Féminin. April was soggy and my prospects in life (career-wise) seemed just as dull and endlessly dreary as the rainy season. I left work early one day because the weight of it all settled in my bones (cliche), but Netflix had sent me this movie in the mail. I curled up and watched Chantal record her album, and watched Paul proclaim 10:00 am to be terrible at the cafe (or something like that). I still felt divided about the depiction of these "truths" about women and relationships, but I was experiencing art; art acts as a balm, soothing and energizing. I devoured the sixties style with hungry eyes.
I spent an entire evening this week trying to find a chunky monogrammed scarf like Chantal's in the movie, but to no avail. So, I have turned to this lovely promo pic for the chanteuse, mainly because I am obsessed with silk scarves.
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