CATS Victor Mignatti GEORGE Paris (411B).jpg

...it was 1965 or so... and Paris had become yet again the center of edgy, arty, and definitely sexy sophistication, especially in film. London had pretensions to being the capital of "cool", but the British still had that awful cuisine... and those teeth!... and New York City would never be able to outweigh the enormous prairies of Presbyterians who still believed the Earth was flat... as flat as their backyards and their personalities. No, it was Paris that reinvented itself, decade after decade, century after century, war after war, revolution after revolution... somehow maintaining its fashion, its food, its furniture, it fabulousness and fantasies through one cataclysm after another. After all, wasn't it just 25 years ago that that brätwurst-blockhead Hitler had goose-stepped under the Arc de Triomphe, and yet only about five years after that the French were celebrating the New Look while the Third Reich's ashes were still smoldering in a muddy and filth-filled bunker somewhere in a burned out ruin called Berlin.

It was in that milieu that Jeanne and Alain in the "swinging sixties" ruled the hip-crowd with their glamour, their beauty, and their mix of continental blasé and bonhomie. It wasn't spoken of widely except in the very urbane and "intime" circles that both Moreau and Delon were so gorgeous and so uninhibited that they dabbled in romance with all races.. and even both sexes... And why not? To be an artist, certainly a performing artist, one had to be in touch with all parts of one's psyche, subconscious, and by extension, sexuality. If you can cry on cue in front of a million staring eyes in the dark, how could you not have explored what it was to be naked in front of any one of them as well... or even a couple of them... at one time!

And so it was... the first article came out as a tiny suggestive squib in a remote corner of Paris Match... some little veiled hint that "two movie stars have set up house-keeping in Marseilles with a third roommate for romantic getaways from the film sets on weekends!". A week later, "what glamorous blonde and her prettier pal have taken in a waif from the wharf... with a beauty mark on his upper lip?"... and finally, the ultimate scandal headline with lurid photos taken secretly by the gardener and a Croatian sous-chef... nudes of the three of them in a rumpled bed, empty champagne glasses, melted brie, cracker crumbs all over the fine Egyptian linens, sardine tins hurled against the far wall, and a kitty-comb full of fur... and those smirks of satiated sexuality... Jeanne, Alain, and Roger! And yes, Mademoiselle and Monsieur, when you say Roger's name, remember the "G" is soft... and purred.

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