French version here
There were days sadder than others, with curfew beginning at
6-7pm, when people climbed onto the seats of the underground
trains densely packed to return to their home. These days
alternated with those full of hope, because one listened secretly to
news from BBC London 'les Francais parlent aux Francais'.
The words of Hitler had no impact; even his gesture of the
return of the ashes of the son of Napoleon Buonaparte on a somber
Sunday in winter left us indifferent.
The low point of deprivation was in 1944 when gas and electricity
often failed. As I was 'Mecanographe' (early electric-typewriter
secretary) at that period, I worked during the night. In order to do
that, I took the last underground at 9-10pm and returned by the first
at 6-7am. We would be given a 'casse-croute' (snack) at midnight made
of a dish of white beans boiled in water (eugh!) and this, for 5 or 6
weeks. The newspapers had only a page, perhaps a half. No white
machine-paper, but an inferior pink sort.
Altered or forged coupons were sold for a great price and to increase
the value in weight of the bread coupons for example, one of our
employees was scratching out figures and drawing others all day long.
I bought some for us, for my family in the countryside and even for a
baker friend so as to satisfy his clients and his miller!
In Paris also, life continued, and for these 5 years
parisian women, very sophisticated despite the situation,
made miracles; with hardly anything one could still dress well;
we turned and remade our dresses and coats; with articulated
wooden soles we had magnificent high-heel-shoes; some
coated their legs with a paste that gave the impression of
wearing silk stockings, and for more accuracy traced a
darker line imitating the seam of the stocking. Hairstyles
and hats were fashioned from tulle scaffoldings, veils,
flowers, and recycled feathers. With 4 or 5 old hand-bags,
one could have a big one made, very chic.
In brief, Paris was still Paris. Sophisticated women
confronted with studied indifference the German 'gray mice'
- women-soldiers in uniform. The theatres, the cinemas,
cabarets in Montmartre were full, in spite of air raid
alerts when one went to the closest shelters. No light? It
didn't matter, the theatres opened their ceiling and the
actors played by the light of the day.
The German Occupation also loved the beautiful shows. I remember a
morning at the Opera when the stalls and the 1st 2nd and 3rd
balconies were occupied solely by green uniforms. When we
left afterwards the swastikas reminded us of the reality, if
one had been able for a second, to escape it in this superb
place that is the 'Opera de Paris'.
