Parisian Ladies
of the Night
by Jilliana
Ranicar-Breese
When I first
began my life as a brocante dealer between London
and Paris in 1977, I would deball at Marche
Montreuil at 6.30 am in all weathers, even in
misty fine rain. Today in 2018 I ask myself how
could I have been so stupid and gauche, spreading
my good quality English collectables stock on the
ground, watching and waiting for punters. What a
‘hard’ life it was ‘sur les
trottoirs de Paris’ but oh such fun without
a care in my crazy Mickey Mouse world.
One early damp grey morning a white van, driven
by a French postcard dealer called Alexandre, was
backing out of his spot in the market and didn’t
see my ‘rubbish’ on the wet ground
covered with plastic as protection against the
drizzle and thus ran over and flattened my
precious collectable vintage English biscuit tins.
When I shouted at him, pointing out what he had
done, ruining my stock, he just laughed, shrugged
his shoulders and drove off. If they weren’t
postcards, to his way of thinking, it was merde
pour la poubelle!
I never forgot his insolent phallocratic
behaviour and the incident, later ignoring this
bombastic dealer when I saw him running around at
the Ephemera and postcard fairs. I was later told
by dealers in the know that he specialised in
Erotica but I didn’t care as I was not
interested in doing business with Alexandre
Dupouy, even though years later I ventured
gingerly into that themed area through
Happenstance.
The decades passed and my dealing days ended,
turning my stock and private collection into a
themed commercial nostalgia photo library called
Retrograph Archive. After all, why sell an image
when you can licence reproduction rights and get
to keep the original image? Have your cake and
eat it too!
One of my themes was Erotica having bought
several alluring sexy dressed sepia ‘ladies
of the night’ postcards along with American
40s era Bette Page black and white posed bondage
photographs. The Parisian ladies were erotic in
the 20s with garters, some wearing negligees and
others topless but never bottomless, being
scantily dressed at all times. Their faces became
so familiar that it was if I was having a
relationship with these women! None of them
looked like sluts. I made sure I had hand picked
them for their attractive smiles and sensual
bodies. They all looked like they were enjoying
themselves sitting on beds or lounging around
resting on decorative distinctly designed Art
Deco oval cushions. Some wore dark school
uniforms with white blouses but no panties
carrying books, some showed their provocative
garters with laddered stockings, while others
were doing something surreal like ironing or
telephoning. My favourite lacy petticoat clad
lady was holding a whip across her knees, sitting
demurely waiting patiently for her victim!
Back in London I was contacted by the formal be-speckled
picture researcher Emily working for Wordsworth
Editions who were publishing a series of out-of-print
vintage erotic books. They needed a good
selection of sepia ‘glimpse of stocking was
something shocking’ ladies for their
enticing sepia vintage looking paper book covers.
So Emily and I would scrutinise my ladies but not
showing pubes or nipples at any cost! Emily was
so matter of fact with her professional research,
that we could have been looking at household
product consumer advertising. No raised eyebrows
for this spinster who was efficient at her job of
course. No amusement or humour the day she came
round to source not sauce!
As I was going to Paris to hunt for more images
for Retrograph, my vintage nostalgia archive, it
was suggested I browse at ‘Les larmes d’Eros’
at 58 Rue Amelot in the 11em to find my ladies.
How was I to know that the shop/gallery was owned
by my arch enemy Alexandre? However, the
gallery was thankfully managed by his hard po-faced
black haired fringed very Parisian scarlet bow
shaped lipped Louise Brooks lookalike wife? She
and I had been introduced at the paper fair when
she invited me to come to their gallery enticing
me with the promise of hundreds of sepia ladies
visuals in all shapes and sizes.
I arrived with the sole intention of finding my
ladies. Nothing more, nothing less. She escorted
me to a large central table that occupied most of
the ground floor area but oddly she stood pouting
behind a circular small reception desk watching
and waiting. For what? For who? I was soon to
find out. An erotic clock hung on the wall with
female black stocking legs with a red garter
moving with every minute in different positions.
The stark white walls were adorned with black and
white modern art erotica framed in black so the
effect was quite striking. Black and white. White
and black with a hint of provocative scarlet here
and there.
I excitedly sat with 4 shoeboxes of vintage
postcards. I had all afternoon. I had reserved
the time. As I flicked through the sepia
images, head down concentrating, the door bell
rang and a man entered, moving around behind me
silently as there was not much room to swing a
cat. I did not look up but kept on focusing on my
delectable ladies. Then the door bell sounded
again and then again. Men were walking around me
looking at the walls silently but purposefully
before disappearing into the basement area where
the rare explicit sado masochist photographs were
on display for a limited time.
Out of curiosity I had to venture down the stairs.
Ooh la la. What an education! Photos of lesbians
fondling each other, penetration, Japanese
bondage, threesomes, blowjobs, handjobs, S &
M, whips and leather bondage, all very kinky and
so French from Alexandre’s famous
private collection, some rare ones coming from
the French actor, Michel Simon’s
famous erotic collection. Alexandre had published
several photographic books, having found his
niche and the demand was rife without any
competition. Prints, books, limited edition
reproductions of his explicit photographs and who
knows what other services were on sale in his
gallery.
I felt very aware I was out of my comfort zone
but on a focussed mission. Not, however thinking
of missionary positions but thinking of book
jackets and a proposed poster book of 30 Parisian
ladies each one of whom I would have to name. I
looked into their silent faces thinking of
frivolous names like Mimi, Fifi, Lulu, MuMu as if
calling to them travelling through time to the
world beyond.
That was during the late 80s. Today 20 years on
the shop cum gallery is still open but I am no
longer looking for these smiling enticing ladies
frozen in time, nor venturing into the underbelly
of the shop to be ‘educated’.
Written
in the atelier on Rue Richer, Paris on 8.9.18.
Link with ‘Sex for one’ and ‘Mad
collectors #7’
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