"Lucien, what is wrong with the clothes I have?"
He looks upon his beautiful wife, choosing his words wisely. "Absolutely nothing is wrong with your clothes. I just thought you might enjoy getting some things from the famous French fashion houses."
Lucien's suggestion to walk Champ-Élysées to get Jean some new things is not going as he had planned. He is reminded once again of his wife's pride. Reminded that his Jean doesn't need all that money can buy to be happy and contented. But he doesn't want her to just be content, he wants to spoil her; give her all that she never had.
"And what do you know of the famous French fashion houses?" Jean questions in a stand of defiance.
"Well, I know women love them." Jean's brow rises. "I mean I've heard women love them. I just thought you would like something new for when we go the Palais Garnier to see the opera. You know what, let's forget I mentioned it." Lucien's shoulders drop in defeat.
This slight slump is what breaks Jean. She really can't take when her dear strong husband looks so forlorn. She needs to work on this before Lucien learns of this weakness and uses it to his advantage.
"Perhaps it would be nice to have something new for the opera." The smile on Lucien's face make her wonder if he has already figured the weakness out. "Just one dress though! I don't know where I would ever where a Dior or Givenchy in Ballarat."
Lucien stares at his wife in disbelief, "I thought you …"
"Don't give me that look Lucien. Just because I don't care to wear some fancy names doesn't mean I don't know about them. Come on let's eat breakfast before I change my mind."
At the table Jean picks up the morning paper to hand to Lucien. On the front cover is a large picture of President and Mrs. Kennedy. She tries to make sense of the headline but can not decipher the french words in front of her.
"Lucien, what does this say about the Kennedys?"
"Let me see. Aaah. They are arriving in Paris today."
"Really?" Jean finds the young presidential family so intriguing along with many across the globe. "Mrs. Kennedy is just so fascinating. You know she had a baby only few months ago. It must be so difficult to be in the public eye with two small children."
"Yes, I would imagine it is." He is getting such pleasure watching Jean talk about a woman that is a stranger to them. Her eyes sparkle with admiration of the young president's wife, a kinship in the loss and strength the two women share.
"...and she was a journalist. Lucien are you listening to me?" He is lost in thought gazing at his own marvelous wife.
"Of course."
"Hmmm, well. I think she wears Dior." Jean gives him a wink, as they both laugh at the turn the morning has taken.
"How is it you seem to know so much about fashion, the Kennedys and just about everything that comes your way?"
"It's called reading, Lucien. I don't just flit around the house making everything look tidy all day long." Jean enjoys impressing him whenever she can.
"You really are the most clever person, my dear."
Lucien, not really knowing anything of fashion asks at the front desk of the hotel for suggestions to where he should take his wife. He chooses the House of Dior as their first stop since she had mentioned the designer at breakfast. They leave empty handed, heading to the House of Worth, the first fashion house in Paris. Nothing seems to be to her liking. Store after store they leave purchasing nothing. Lucien is starting to think that Jean has no intentions of letting him buy a designer gown for her.
He watches Jean meander through each store, garments brought to her from the collections to perouse. He remains close by her side so that he may assist translating between Jean and the vendeuse. Her hands stroke the fine fabrics of the dresses that are displayed in front of her. His Jean knows this world even if she could never afford such finery. He watches her check the stitching of hemlines, the securnes of buttons; if zippers are hidden correctly.
First he finds great amusement that she is scrutinizing each garment with such a particular eye. Then it occurs to him, as if they were in the Louvre again, Jean is taking in the beauty. She is examining the artistry, noticing the differences in colors however subtle. Taking mental notes of cuts, fabrics and design. And just as when she observed the finest works of art, Jean says little, taking it all in. He has no doubt that she will be able to recreate her own versions of the fashions once home.
"Lucien, I think I've decided what I want." Jean startles Lucien who is beginning to doze in a chair in the newest of the Houses, Yves Saint Laurent with it's prêt à porter fashion.
"Fantastic! What one do you want?" Lucien says with a just a bit too much enthusiasm.
Jean gives him the knowing look. She didn't intend to make this day of shopping miserable for him but she is getting pleasure out of seeing him suffer for the sake of fashion. "I've decided on the Chanel."
Lucien's shoulders slump. "Not one of these." gesturing to the racks of clothes before them.
"No, I think one of the Chanel dresses will be best. They seem the most versatile. And they are made beautifully. Let's go." Lucien watches his wife walk out of the store with the distinct sway of her hips, head held high. He feels reenergized watching her movements.
Jean runs her hand down her hips turning in front of Lucien. "I think that this is lovely but maybe I should try on that one too." she say pointing to another dress that is hanging in front of her, one that, according to the assistant, is similar in design to what Audrey Hepburn will be wearing in a new film.
Jean goes into the changing room for a fourth time. She holds up the black dress observing the high front and low back. There is something about this one, not the long gown with yards of fabric that has her heart fluttering in anticipation to slip on. It is something Jean Beazley would never dare to dream of wearing but Jean Blake, the wife of a doctor, a major, a former spy can. The lines are simple but elegant. The fabric like nothing she has ever felt in Ballarat. She is assured that any alterations will be complete in time for the opera but this dress fits her perfectly, showing her slim frame, accenting the curves that she knows her husband enjoys; sleeveless with a hem a bit higher than she normally wears. The back drapes daringly low, just hitting the top of her bra strap. Some black heels, long gloves will add elegance, and new undergarments may be needed.
"Jean...How's that one?" Lucien is starting to fidget, when Jean comes around the curtain.
"Well, what do you think of this one?" She gives a little spin knowing the effect it will have on him.
His mouth falls open as he manages a bloody hell.
"So then we agree this is the one?" Lucien nods with a smile that is full of desire. "Good. Why don't you go settle the bill while I change."
"Lucien there is one more store I want to go in." Lucien lets out a groan and his head drops. "This was your idea!"
" I know. I'm sorry, my darling. Anything you want." He tries to make a quick recovery.
"Hmmm. It just so happens I want you to go to that cafe and wait for me while I go in there." She points to a store that carries the finest of lady's delicates.
"That sounds like a grand idea."
She takes a hold of his arm as he is about to make his way across the avenue. "Umm, Lucien, I need money." Jean says quietly. It has been far too many years since she has had someone to rely on to provide for her. Asking for money from Lucien is still difficult for her and to his credit he knows that, usually intervening taking care of her wants and needs without her needing to put voice to them. Though she has some of her own money in her purse, she knows that it will not cover the cost of the items she seeks in that boutique.
"Of course." He hands over his entire billfold adding a deep kiss for reassurance. "Spend whatever you like."
Taking a deep breath before stepping over the threshold, Jean takes on an air of confidence that she doesn't have in herself. She looks around and is pleased that it is so tasteful and elegant. The center display has a beautiful woman arranging a negligee on a model. Jean makes her way further in, hoping she will see what she needs to avoid the inevitable language barrier.
"Puis-je vous aider?" a young vendeuse says as she approaches Jean.
Jean understands the question from the countless shops they have visited through France. "Yes, I purchased a dress from The House of Chanel that is quite low in the back and I need…" Jean is trying to mimic her needs as she speaks.
Mercifully a young assistant speaks English. She leads Jean to the back room where things can be brought to her in privacy.
"What color are you looking for madame?"
"Color? Oh, of course, black. I think." she is chiding herself for feeling so nervous, like a virgin school girl, not a married woman in her forties. "Yes, definitely black."
For almost an hour Jean handles the most delicate lace and silks. She sees things that she has only read about in magazines at the beauty parlor. The nervousness passes, along with the minutes, as she tries on garments that make her blush at herself standing in front of the mirror. She starts to understand just what Lucien sees when he looks at her. The desire he has for her. She came in here to get something for herself but now only has pleasing her husband in mind.
"Madame, have you decided?"
"Yes. I'll take the matching black lace set, the ones trimmed in red and this green negligee." She puts the small scrap of silk on the counter. The green silk had caught her eye at once among all the blacks, reds and pastels. It is her green, their green, the green of the dress that first turned Lucien's head. She tries it on to be sure but she knows she must own it. She feels no guilt writing out the exorbitant check to pay for the items.
Stepping outside, the sun much lower in the afternoon sky, she looks across the busy street to see Lucien sitting at a table, his long legs stretched out before him, hat over his face. Sleeping! Jean can't help but chuckle at him. He'll never ask to go shopping again.
"Is this seat taken, monsieur?" She can see the smile overtake his face under the fedora.
Sitting up, placing his hat on the table, Jean leans in for kiss. "As a matter a fact, yes. It is for the most beautiful woman I know."
Coming from Lucien, she believes these words. She reaches over to grab the pastry he has set before him. "I'm starving."
"Ha! Worked up an appetite. I hope you enjoyed yourself, darling?"
Jean leans over putting her lips to his ear, giving his upper thigh a squeeze, a tease of things to come. "I did. And I think you will too."
