Charlotte Gainsbourg Has A Message For Me
Or so it would seem. Sure, she's persistent. But what on earth does she want from me?
Scene 1: we open at the Vavin Café this morning, with me standing at the bar. One of the few in Paris, actually, where I enjoy standing. Maybe because there's always good reading material lying about, and today is no exception. This week's Madame Figaro, the Sunday supplement to Le Figaro. A very entertaining read, and always a good horoscope. Charlotte Gainsbourg is on the cover. She has an album that's recently come out, and a movie opening today. So her face -- profile, actually -- is on the side of every bus, and about forty thousand billboards around town. Fair enough.
Scene 2: Twenty minutes, if that many, later, I dash into Le Bon Marché to visit the toilettes. A song by Charlotte's mother, Jane Birkin, plays on the P.A. system. Funny, that.
Scene 3: Ten minutes after that, I am on my way up the rue de Bac. I am not paying particularly good attention to where I am going -- it's a sunny day, bright, alarmingly clear, and everything in such sharp 3-D -- and manage to just miss stepping on a small girl being helped into a cab by her mother, Charlotte Gainsbourg.
All I wanted to say was, "What, already?"
But of course I didn't.