Joyeux Noël

In France, while I still have the say-so, we do not like the Noël so much. We think maybe Jesus is not too good. So we will make it go away. We call Décembre “Frigidaire,” you know? Like your icebox. We call Virgin Mary “Sophia, the Goddess of Wisdom.” We let Le Père Noël keep his name — Why not? — but we cut his head off.

Now that I am burning in the hell forever, I think maybe Noël is not so bad. You get the snow. You get the man of snow. You get little presents. I most specially enjoy the work of the great poupée makers of my France. They make this enchanting poupée of the “homme de neige.” But I must leave him up here so he will not melt in les flammes de l’enfer.

Oh! I forget almost! John-Jack Rousseau sends you his bitter curses from the pit of endless pain. Ha ha. John-Jack is so funny. Me, I say, Joyeux Noël et bonnes fêtes!

My Soft Hands

How I love to read your billet doux electronique! So many questions of deep interest. Par exemple, you say, “Saint Just! Saint Just! How do you keep looking so young with so fresh skin? Do you bathe in the milk?” Mon dieu! Certainly not! The very idea! Tres dégoût! No, no, there is not a secret to how I look to be young: I am dead, you see. I am cut of the marble. I am the statue with no arms or legs or bottom. I am THE BUST. Do you want to look so young? Then too go be the bust, okay?

Lester Miserables

Mon amis, bienvenue once again. Allow me to introduce you to my very good colleague, Monsieur Victor Hugo the Bust. Hallo, Victor Hugo!

He is such a good music writer of the famous song play, Lester Miserables. But look, he is a bit miserable himself, no? I think I know why: He is sad about Jean Valjean because he has such a bad smell. Yes? Always in the sewer is M. Valjean. Why? Is he shy? Yes, that is why! Come out, Jean Valjean, come out! We will not laugh at you! We like you so very much, Jean Valjean. Here is your cookie, Jean Valjean!

[Now I whisper to you so quiet, mon amis: When Jean Valjean poke his head out of sewer, we shall hit him with mallet. Ha ha! That will make Victor Hugo the Bust to be merry, henh? Just so!]

Baguettes–The French Bread Bat

Here is the problem you must surely always be having all the time. You are somewhere, yes? But you say, “Where am I? Am I in France or am I in the Congo?” How do you know which place?

Ho ho. Saint Just will tell you how to know. Look all over — look up and down, north and west, everywhere. Do you see the Eiffel Tower? Yes? Allors! There you have it: you are in France. But wait! Perhaps you do not see Le Tour Eiffel. You begin to tremble, to cry. But do not cry. Dry your tears, mon cheri. Smile! Smile! Look again. Up, down, left, right. Do you see the baguette? Yes? Ah, bon, bon! Then you are in France. Yes, and you are… in love!

Chant Sous la Pluie

So many foolish people they stand up in the tour bus and I must shout to them, “Asseyez-vous!” It is so when silly silly people say to me, “M. Just, for what do you say the painting of M. Caillebotte is called ‘Chant Sous la Pluie?’ You are so false, so false! And look: that is not Rue de Jouffroy d’Abbans, no! It is not that at all! It is a little place near Gare St. Lazare. So!”

To those silly silly people I also must shout, “Asseyez-vous!” But I do not add, “Imbécile!” Though I think the thought. For look, do you see the very own copy of the painting I receive from Gustave himself! He say to me, “Saint-Just! Here is my new picture. I call it the ‘Chant Sous la Pluie!’ because I so love M. Gene Kelly. Ho ho! I put name right in front in big red words for you to know! And look, the sign it says ‘Rue de Jouffry d’Abbans’ because it is so! Now I go.”

It is plain as your nose of the face! Now, all of you, asseyez-vous, s’il vous plait!

We Go to Hell with John-Jack

Very naughty people they say to me, “M. Just, why do you pretend as though Jean-Jacques Rousseau is your good friend, eh? Why do you do? Rousseau, he is not your friend. Non! Nor does he go to hell! You are so filled with mistakes! We do not like you! We call you stupid names, because you are stupid! Ha!”

I am not so hurt, but my heart cries a tiny bit, because, you see, I am such good friend to you and also to my friend, Jean-Jacques. Come now with me, bon amis, so we go down to Hades and look: Who is there to welcome us but M. Rousseau himself! Bonjour, bonjour, M. Jean-Jacques! Or as you Anglais say: Hallo, hallo, John-Jack!

And bonjour to you, too, King of Hell!

So you see, I always speak the true thing. Next we go to Purgatory to see my friend Napolean III.

The Little Black Coco

What can this be? A new Coco? After Irma la Douce has so very well played her so definitave? Saint-Just tells you it is true! He has heard it for himself!

But is it so bad a thing? Two Cocos? And one so very young! She is Audrey Tautou, who plays the girl is very many wonderful cinema shows. Here she is all like Coco, but I do not know why she dresses in the clothing of a man. Perhaps I am mistaken and she is playing the great blues singer Koko Taylor. But, no, Koko does not wear the tie. O, could she be Coco Montoya, the fellow with the blue guitar? I do not know. It is a mystery.

If she is Coco Chanel, then what a wonderful day for French Couture. Mme. Coco makes the very French look and the “No. 5″ which is the very smell of French people. She invent the “Chanel Suit” which was named after her in her honor. And Mme. Coco makes the “little black dress” famous. Before Coco it was a very big dress — very, very big — and it was not black. It had yellow and black stripes. I live with Coco for many years, but we do not marry.

Dior He Has “The Look”

When M. Laurent was a petite ecolier — I do not mean the cookie; I mean the boy scholar — he learns what he know from the great Christian Dior. Later they fight, but for a while they are good friends.

M. Dior is the fine fellow who long ago invented “The Look.” Because after all the War, we peek out of our hiding holes and that is what we do. What is not hit with a bomb? So everyone wants to “Look.” What do we see? We see the women, but — mon dieu! — they are like flowers walking. Why so? They have the big skirt, the silhouette. This is the idea of Christian Dior.

All French Couture owes M. Dior a big “Merci beaucoup!” That is why I say of the “Big Three” of clothing M. Dior would be the Four.

Yves Saint Laurent — M. Beatnik

Saint-Just will help you think how French Couture goes. Picture in you eye this line: On the end here you see Mme. Coco. On the end there you see M. Crocodile. Now look. There in the middle you see Yves Saint Laurent.

He is no relation to me, Saint-Just. Ho ho! But he is nonetheless the great man of fashion. He invent the BEATNIK! What is more, you do not have to go to France to be beatnik. Yves Saint Laurent invent the pret-a-porter fashion. This means you can buy YSL anywhere: at the Post Office, the drug store, even the gasoline shoppe, everyone sells the YSL. And you do not need the tailor. Put it on, it fits and — voilà! — you are M. Beatnik, or maybe M. Safari-man or Mlle. Smoking Woman.

After YSL, M. Dior looks like big fool. He runs away! He is never seen again! That is why I say of the “Grands Trois” of the French Couture, M. Laurent is the second, or perhaps the third.

René Lacoste — Monsieur “Crocodile”

Night and Day. Sun and Moon. Snakes and Ladders. So likewise, Coco and Le Croc. They are the two halves of the French couture. Like the half pieces of a split chicken breast. Or like two halves of a face. Coco, she is the top half of the face with all the hair and the eyes. And Le Croc, he is the bottom half with the teeth.

René Lacoste did not start in the fashion world to begin. No no. He play the tennis ball and very well indeed. So well he plays so everyone cries out, “Crocodile! Crocodile!” That is what we cry out France when we like a good sport. The name becomes stuck to René. He shrugs and says, “Okay! Now I am Crocodile. I will show you!” He walks away and comes back with the famous Lacoste shirt and he is now fashion legend of France!

Are you new to putting on the clothing? Come, I will teach simple rules. At night when you go to eat you must wear the Coco. At Day when you play with a ball or perhaps take a walk you must wear the Croc. So easy! Now please put on a pants quickly!