A French model debunks the myth of Parisian style. Sort of
Even though Older But Better, But Older, Caroline de Maigret’s new book, is about getting older – or at least growing up – I didn’t expect to find myself discussing death, hypochondria and megalomania with her. After all, she won’t even be 45 until next month. She also makes micro-short films, including for Chanel, for whom she’s an ambassador, which is why our interview is in a plush suite in a Mayfair hotel, not a shabby-chic publisher’s office. How hard can life be?
But books about ageing are all the rage. Not that this is exactly Olive, Again, Elizabeth Strout’s unflinching current bestseller about what it’s like to be properly old (death and adult nappies). Meanwhile, the illustration on the cover of Older is of de Maigret looking like a lion, with her trademark tousled hair, Bardot fringe, skinny black jeans and biker jacket.
If this is ageing, French style – she sits, with her Chanel-ambassador legs curled under her, in the corner of a vast sofa, tucking into crisps – I’ll have what she’s having. On deeper probing, this turns out to be a ton of therapy – the conventional kind, anger management and the more fringy, including hypnosis and something called surfology, which claims to harness energies.
Superficially at least, it seems to have worked. She’s the acme of serenity and thoughtful reflection, yet in her thirties, working as a music producer, she experienced serious bouts of anxiety. She was, she says, both a hypochondriac and a megalomaniac. She thinks the two go together. “I didn’t ask many questions in my twenties. My mother was a champion swimmer and she told us you must always keep going. There’s strength in that idea, but it can also create weaknesses.”
At least death no longer scares her. “When David Bowie died, that was an epiphany. I thought if even he, with all his access to the best medicine… Once you accept its universality, it’s not so frightening.”
If you’re seeking practical answers to life’s little and not so little road blocks, Older But Better, But Older isn’t always it. Her suggestion for dealing with crushing middle-aged insomnia is to text your office informing them that your child has diarrhoea and you have to stay home. (The tone, like that of her previous hit, How to Be Parisian, is playful-sardonic.)
The solution to feeling that your external appearance no longer matches the youthful spirit inside isn’t a list of plastic surgeons or face creams, but a poetic exhortation to think of “the child who’s an old soul or the twinkle in the eye of a centenarian”. As that sting-in-the-tail title suggests, it never lets you forget that however much you work out or fast, ageing is an inevitability.
I rather like that it’s not another list of addresses and objectives, but more of a sardonic shrug written with the immediacy of a blog. We’re all in this together, even Parisian models. Sometimes it’s rough, but humour works wonders.
“We [she co-wrote the book with Sophie Mas, a film producer whose credits include Call Me by Your Name] are often inspired by the British way of making fun of yourself. It’s key to survival. And it’s a good way to smuggle in more serious ideas.” It’s also a good way to smuggle helpful tips into a book that wants to be about more than surface style.
Since she’s just smuggled in a national stereotype, I attempt the same. Does she think France, which is famously more appreciative of older women (look how revered Deneuve, Huppert, Binoche and co are), is a more affirmative place to grow older?
“Where is this country where it’s easy to grow older?” she laughs.
Women don’t seem invisible in France in their fifties and sixties the way they do elsewhere, I persist. “I think that’s because my mother’s generation grew up demonstrating in the streets for women’s rights, so it just wasn’t cool to be too concerned with how you look. There had to be substance.”
So how come French women know so much about shopping and style? They spend less than we do, but generally their clothes last longer and they rarely look terrible. This is a nation of women who collectively inspired one of the most irritatingly
smug books ever – French Women Don’t
Get Fat. Is style part of their genetic
code?
“Hah! Put it this way. We’re raised on French romantic literature at school. It’s all about making a big character of yourself and keeping a certain air of mystery.”
In other words, they fret just as much as we do about the kilos and whether or not they’re too old for that miniskirt in Zara. But they don’t show this too much in public.
Then there’s the French brand of socialism. “Nothing must be too flashy. It infects every detail. If you look like you’ve had a facelift or some Botox, in France that’s considered a failure.” It’s the reason, too, she says, that French style is classic, bordering on predictable. “It’s not about standing out.”
Today, de Maigret is dressed head to toe in black – as she is on the book cover. A Chanel peacoat, jeans and a T-shirt. “But really, I can’t wear too much black any more. I prefer colour, but it has to be strong… I’m much more daring about what I wear in many ways.”
In her twenties she loved menswear. “But now I look better in a more feminine style.” There are passages about low-slung bums (solution: baggy tailored trousers) and turning the socalled flaws that you’re insecure about into distinctive features.
Really, Older is about honing the attitude and thought processes that will best equip you to get through the next few chapters of life with the least collateral damage. “I actually feel better about myself than I did in my twenties. Strangely, working in fashion has made ageing easier. The fact that Chanel still wants me is very encouraging. In the end, we all age. The goal is to learn acceptance.”