That Other Danish Girl

SHE ILLUSTRATED FOR SUCH MAGAZINES AS VOGUE, LA VIE PARISIENNE AND FANTASIO, in an era that produced some of the lushest, most opulent artworks in history. But beyond the powdery shades, the graceful lines and floral flourishes, Gerda Wegener's works, like her own life, are anything but demure.

Born in 1886, the then Gerda Gottlieb married fellow Danish artist Einar Wegener in 1904, the pair moving to Paris where Gerda received much success as a painter and illustrator. The couple's lives took a turn when Einar one day put on a pair of stockings and heels, to sit in for Gerda's absentee model. Feeling vibrant in women's attire, Einar continued to pose for Gerda's illustrations, appearing in many of her works as a fashionably-dressed woman with almond eyes. He carried on cross-dressing outside of modelling for Gerda, disappearing into the streets of Paris as an anonymous femme.

In 1930, Einar began undergoing sex reassignment surgery, which comprised five operations in a span of two years. Surgery of this sort was still experimental at the time, and Einar's is noted as one of the first sex reassignment surgeries in history to be conducted. The procedure led to widespread public commotion, and the King of Denmark's invalidation of Einar's marriage to Gerda. With their marriage dissolved, Einar Wegener legally changed his name to Lili Elbe, and Gerda remarried, only to divorce five years later.

Both Gerda and Lili died within the decade, leaving behind a sensational legacy and a body of work comprising both the fashionable and the erotic. I've provided a subtly suggestive selection above but a Google search for Gerda Wegener's illustrations reveal females in scenes that recall the Kama Sutra, and whose pretty pastels rival Fifty Shades of Grey.

A film is currently in the works, adapting David Ebershoff's fictitional account of Lili Elbe's life; one that is impossible to recount without prominently depicting his wife Gerda. With Tom Hooper at the helm and Eddie Redmayne as Lili Elbe, I have only excitement for who would be cast as the other Danish girl.

Illustrations by Gerda Wegener, available on hprints.com

That Vie en Rose

DUBBED "LA VILLE ROSE" FOR THE ROSE-COLORED GLOW of its brick and white stone buildings, Toulouse blushes with a beauty that rivals that of France's more popular destinations. This time of year especially, the city's pink hue graces more than just the buildings, finding itself in a glass of rosé, in the steak tartare, or on the ruddy cheeks of someone who's been walking in the sun.

Characteristically too, the Toulousains exhibit a rosy demeanor. Huffington Post describes Toulouse as "possibly the friendliest town in southern France" and I happily attest to the description. Over the course of a long weekend, we discovered an amicable side to the French that was generous with smiles, with service, and most conveniently, with English. Merci beaucoup!

While bathed in pink, Toulouse is also accentuated by the color blue, painted onto window frames and balustrades, among other architectural details. Even the roads bear a cool, cobalt undertone in the shade. The blues remind of Toulouse's history with pastel, a blue dye that became the city's major export in the 15th century. Also called "woad" after the plant from which the dye is produced, pastel sparked a prosperity in the city that allowed Toulousain art and architecture to flourish. It was not a prosperity that lasted though, as trade routes opened up and ushered in the stronger blue of indigo.

Thanks to a modern-day revival of pastel, Toulouse continues to produce the dye for both textiles and cosmetics. From soaps to scarves, to bedding and balms, a piece of Toulousain history can be bought in specialty boutiques like Graine de Pastel and La Fleurée de Pastel, or in various gift shops and pharmacies around the city.

As for that glorious pink glow, alas, you can't take that back with you. No rose is without even a little thorn.

Toulouse center, La Fleurée de Pastel, Hôtel les Bains Douches, Le monument François Verdier and Place Dupuy, Toulouse, France. Photos by Lady San Pedro and Jaime Sese.

That Terrible Twosome

JEAN SEBERG AND DAVID NIVEN are a hedonistic father-daughter duo in Bonjour Tristesse, Otto Preminger's 1958 film adaptation of Françoise Sagan's novel of the same name. Both fit, flirtatious and fun-loving, Seberg and Niven as Cécile and Raymond indulge in a life of excessive leisure and liberty, acting at whim with little regard for the characters around them. The two display such behavior throughout the film, which takes place in two distinct parts: a monochromatic Paris in the winter, and a lusciously-colored flashback of the French Riviera in the summer.

The film's main conflict comes in the form of a somewhat serious, prudish Deborah Kerr as Anne Larsen, whose presence in Cécile and Raymond's lives threaten their carefree lifestyle. Cécile, spoiled and selfish, reacts to this threat with adolescent cunning; her schemes resulting in damages far greater than planned.

The events in Bonjour Tristesse are as overly-simple as its characters, described in 1958 by The New York Times as "plainly the creatures of a child's mind that make no sense in a presumably adult film." The novel itself is perhaps partially to blame. Film critic Bosley Crowther further adds that "The lack of discernment on the part of the author is carried over in the film."

But what Bonjour Tristesse lacks in substance, it makes up for with style. Cinematically, Preminger's CinemaScope views of the Côte d'Azur elicits a desire to vacation by the Mediterranean, while his breaking of the fourth wall makes voluptuous appeal of Seberg's gamine beauty. "Whatever Seberg does in Breathless, she's already done in Bonjour Tristesse." Explains director Mark Rappaport in From the Journals of Jean Seberg. "She looks at the camera for long periods of time, with zero expression on her face, with her voiceover accompanying it. This was the first time this kind of technique had been appropriated."

Sartorially too, Bonjour Tristesse offers up plenty of eye candy at the hands of no other than Hubert de Givenchy. From Deborah Kerr's smart, sculptural ensembles, to Seberg and Niven's almost coordinated leisurewear, the costume design not only visually echoes each character's persona, but also serves to add visual interest where profundity is lacking. That Cécile wears her father's clothes is more than cue enough of her inheriting his amoral disregard. That bit at least, I find terribly brilliant.

Bonjour Tristesse, 1958. Directed by Otto Preminger.