There’s more at stake in France’s election than an age gap
She’s nothing short of fabulous, une femme d’un certain age, always dressed to thrill, with an “allure rock,” as British Vogue recently enthused, that includes “a deep tan, a peroxide-to-honey blonde hair’do, an expensive designer handbag and car-to-carpet heels.”
I will figure out what “car-to-carpet” heels means shortly.
In the meantime, meet Brigitte Macron, 63, the much talked-about wife of Emmanuel Macron, who at 39 is poised — much of the world hopes — to defeat far right leader Marine Le Pen in the May 7 election run off and become the youngest president in France’s history.
The youngest president with the oldest wife — 24 years older to be exact — and a scandalous love story to boot.
Their story, chronicled in tabloids, upscale magazines and even a book, is indeed eye-popping. Macron was 15 when he met Brigitte, who was then his literature and drama teacher at a private Jesuit school in the northern France town of Amiens. Her daughter Laurence was his classmate, and his confused parents thought maybe their precocious son was in love with the daughter.
But no. Quelle histoire. He was in love with his then-married teacher, a mother of three (and now grandmother of seven), and while his parents separated them and sent their son to Paris to finish his education, love prevailed.
After a divorce and presumably a cooling-off period, Emmanuel and Brigitte have been together since he turned 18. As the 17th century French author Blaise Pascal famously wrote: “The heart has its reasons.”
The couple married in 2007, and while they have no children together, they have embraced the concept of having a large, non-traditional family. Emmanuel has said, “There is no less love in our family.” His stepson is in fact older than he is.
In France, cue the . . . ennui. “No one really cares,” said one observer, who rightly thinks the country is more concerned with far more urgent political matters.
Not so much in the U.K., where one tabloid newspaper, the Sun, ran the screaming headline: “French Kiss: How French election front-runner Emmanuel Macron, 39, seduced gran, 64, who he fell for at FIFTEEN.”
More serious outlets have published think pieces on whether this unconventional relationship should be awarded the feminist imprimatur given its power imbalance beginnings. (“If a male teacher had done this . . . ”)
Much has been made of the fact that the age differ- ence between U.S. President Donald Trump, 70, and his hardly-ever-there wife, Melania, 47, is about the same as the one between the Macrons, and of course no one seems to think it’s scandalous.
Trump having a much younger third wife is just business as usual. Unlike Donald Trump, Emmanuel Macron has touchingly and very publicly declared his love for his wife, saying after his first victory last week that without her, “I wouldn’t be who I am.”
Brigitte Macron, born Trogneux, from a prominent Amiens family that owns a renowned chocolate factory, appears to be opinionated, extremely comfortable in her own skin and having the time of her life, whether it’s at a fashion show or a backroom political meeting with her husband.
She is by all accounts very involved in his political decisions.
Would such an age imbalance be accepted in Canada, where we tend, like the U.S. but not quite so vehemently, to be more prurient about such matters?
“It would be like Justin Trudeau married to Kim Campbell!” one friend said gleefully.
Well, no it wouldn’t — unless she had been his mentor at 15.
The far more interesting question, if you want to probe both our sexual hypocrisy and our sometimes only skindeep love of gender equality, is whether say British Prime Minister Theresa May could get away with having a romantic partner 24 years her junior.
In other words, if the woman was the leader and the much younger man was on her arm.
Surely some trashy headlines would be screaming “cougar” and “boy toy,” although mainly, those words have thankfully faded from our social lexicon as being old-fashioned and insulting to both genders. Is it too much to think we’re becoming more sophisticated?
Not so fast. In another little contretemps, Macron has had to deny rumours he’s gay, joking at one rally that his “hologram” must have escaped to have a secret life.
I have some personal views on this. When I was a young woman, my newly divorced mother, whom I worshipped, told me a “secret” she had kept from me in the 26 years of my parents’ marriage. She was in fact 13 years older than my father. In those days, she rightly reckoned people would have been taken aback.
My response was to wholeheartedly support her.
“Who cares?” I said. “Besides, you look great.”
I’ve since thought that it was a shame she had to deny key aspects of herself — her age, when she graduated from college — just to blur the age line between my parents.
Although women in those days — like my mother — seldom divulged how old they were: “I’m as old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth,” was her answer when I asked. That gap was only 13 years. There’s a whole generation between Emmanuel and Brigitte Macron.
As a woman of a certain age myself, I did fret that, given her fashion forward style and the fact that if her husband becomes president the camera will always be on her, Brigitte may feel intense pressure to look a certain way for years to come.
When she is 80, he will only be 56. Think of the energy she’ll need.
But then I remembered political leadership ages men, in particular, very fast.
It will work out fine. Judith Timson writes weekly about cultural, social and political issues. You can reach her at judith.timson@sympatico.ca and follow her on Twitter @judithtimson.