Sunday, March 23, 2008

“The most beautiful makeup for a woman is passion,” Yves Saint Laurent once said.

drawing by Marguerita,previously published in the Jornal da Tarde

The French need no excuse to kiss.

The first time I was kissed by a Frenchman was on July 20, 1969, the day a man landed on the moon. I was a student with a backpack, arriving at the Gare de Lyon. The newspaper seller kissed me on both cheeks because I was an American.
The ritual double “bisou” — the two-cheek kiss — takes some getting used to. There is nothing sexy about it, but it can be awkward, especially for my adolescent daughters when they are required to kiss strange men.
They know how to cradle a woman’s hand in his, raise the hand to chest level, bend over to meet it halfway and savor its feel and scent.

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