So long time no see! It has indeed been a while but a new, better Pique-Nique blog is in the works, so watch this space! In the meantime, you can listen to my new60's French pop show on Mixcloud and keep in touch on Instagram.
Bye for now!
Brighton captures many of the quirks and oddities which maketh the Great British Seaside Holiday. Okay, so it feels a little weird to pack Factor 50 sunblock and an umbrella in the beach bag, and sometimes it might feel like the coast’s main source of heat is the polystyrene tub of chips you find yourself huddled around, but this never seems to detract from the timeless sense of wholesomeness conjured by a stroll along a good ol’ British seafront.
All images are published in accordance with article L.122-5 of the Code de la propriété intellectuelle français.
In my last post I promised to share some of the delightful morsels of sixties France that I’ve uncovered during my foray into France’s youth culture of yesteryear. This first instalment collects images scanned from various issues of the unisex youth magazine, Salut les copains, between 1963 and 1968 and a few of my favourite record sleeves - all from my own personal collection of old tat. The second photograph is - of course - Francoise Hardy looking pensively out to sea.
I've been busily beavering away researching my dissertation topic and unfortunately I've been a little lax updating the blog, however all my hard work delving into the annals of mid-century French youth has unearthed some charming nuggets of Francophone pop culture that I can't wait to share with you over the next few weeks. In the interim, here are some colourful summer snaps that have been lying around collecting dust. I really wish it wasn't so damn cold right now!
Here's a catchy number for you courtesy of Claude Channes, as featured in the Jean-Luc Godard film, La Chinoise.
On a separate note, did anyone catch the UK premiere of Pan Am last night? Wow. As if British television channels weren’t already saturated with audiovisual garbage in every flavour, now something comes along that is so thoroughly feculent and devoid of any merit whatsoever that I actually began to embrace the prospect of sitting down to watch Wayne Rooney’s second cousin battle it out with carpet-fitter-to-the-stars, Bob, on ITV4's forthcoming Celebrity Come Morris Dance With Me to Dubstep On Ice.
Anyhow, it transpired that Pan Am is so historically inaccurate that the writers needed to continuously show a copy of LIFE magazine with the date on it in order to remind the viewer that it was meant to take place in the sixties. This was exemplified by the fact that - somewhere between nodding off and daydreaming about the many ways I could go about destroying my television - I half expected to see one of the passengers updating his Facebook status on his iPad. This almost seems like nitpicking when compared to the storyline – actually scrap that, compared to every other aspect of this show - which was a bit like watching an extended version of Britney Spears' video for Toxic crossed with an episode of schoolboy-come-spy puppet show, Joe 90. To describe Pan Am as “Mad Men on a plane” is tantamount to describing ‘Allo, ‘Allo! as “Schindler’s List in France”. Besides that, it was great! What did you think?
Here is the final set of photos from our wonderful trip to Paris, which saw us gorge on a most excellent breakfast in our apartment; stroll around the splendid streets of Saint-Germain-des-Prés; and listen to 60’s French pop on the banks of the Seine - courtesy of an exceptionally cool bouquiniste stall-holder and his battery-powered record player. Amazing! Au revoir et à bientôt mon cher Paris!