by Christian Dura, 1984
In the mid 2ks, I had a colleague the few years I worked as an administrator for a graduate program in Berkeley. Jane had a brilliant mind and a phD in art history (my jam). I enjoyed listening to her stories, knowledge of art, and experience living in 1980s Paris where she studied at the Sorbonne.
In the mid 2ks, I had a colleague the few years I worked as an administrator for a graduate program in Berkeley. Jane had a brilliant mind and a phD in art history (my jam). I enjoyed listening to her stories, knowledge of art, and experience living in 1980s Paris where she studied at the Sorbonne.
Paris is one of my favourite cities - stunning in its beauty and endlessly walkable. It's a place where time seems non-linear and fluid. So much of western civilization, from the Dark Ages, the Inquisition, the Revolution, to World War II, has passed through that city. I went off the beaten path and bathed in a hammam with women from Africa and the Middle East. I got lost down narrow streets, explored flea markets and bookstores, and watched the lights of the Eiffel Tower, enchanted as I was, from the Pont des Artes. I spent hours in the Musee d’Orsay blissfully studying the impressionists.
In 1980, Lady Jane was studying at the Sorbonne. She lived in a third floor walk-up flat in a Saint Germaine brothel. She rented from the two women who ran the place. ‘ Fabulous!’ I said. ‘ They sound like Irma La Duce.’
In 1980, Lady Jane was studying at the Sorbonne. She lived in a third floor walk-up flat in a Saint Germaine brothel. She rented from the two women who ran the place. ‘ Fabulous!’ I said. ‘ They sound like Irma La Duce.’
' They were a hoot.’ She said. ‘ Quite the tough and sexy dames, you know. They had survived the insanity of war. They drank wine, smoked, and listened to jazz with their friends."
Jane’s place was cheap, with narrow spaces and doorways carved and moulded by the hands of men in the past. Her room had views of Saint Germaine and the city. To make extra money, she worked as a concierge at posh parties and fashion shows. A social encounter would lead from one gig to another.
' Oui, cherie Jane! We need a concierge at a birthday party for Pierre Cardin.’
And there she was, young Jane, standing in the foyer of a Paradis Latin Cabaret, in her Givenchy dress suit. She greeted Grace Jones, Yves Saint Laurent, Issey Miyake, Marisa Berenson, and Catherine Deneuve. She helped with the flower arrangements, placed in decadent Grecian urns. She spoke fluent French without an American accent. Who has lived such a life, Jane says?
And there she was, young Jane, standing in the foyer of a Paradis Latin Cabaret, in her Givenchy dress suit. She greeted Grace Jones, Yves Saint Laurent, Issey Miyake, Marisa Berenson, and Catherine Deneuve. She helped with the flower arrangements, placed in decadent Grecian urns. She spoke fluent French without an American accent. Who has lived such a life, Jane says?
Into the future, as an old woman, she became invisible to young people who had no concept of such an age of glamour, American rock n roll, original ideas, and sophistication. Jane was fascinating because she actually experienced Paris at a time it was just a dream to me. The imagination, as limitless and beautiful as it is, is not the same as one’s lived experience.
‘ It was beautiful.’ She said of the Pierre Cardin party. ‘ Everyone was so chic. I'd never seen anything like it - that kind of glamour. Such a rare thing these days. People were so interesting - inspired to create and to live. That's what drove everyone - our love of life. We all knew we’re going to suffer and die, or lose someone like I did. We might as well enjoy ourselves with whatever time we have.’
Jane could look at an image of a painting and know the artist, period and type of paint used. ‘ Oh, that’s Velázquez, 1618 to 1619. Oil on linen. He was a master of the chiaroscuro technique. I could tell you more if we were looking at the original.’
(What?! Damn).
In Paris she met an older Frenchman and fell in love with him. They were married and as she told me, that was the happiest time of her life. Then just like that, her husband became ill and died. She never recovered from the loss and grief. She remained, emotionally at least, that young grieving widow, alone in Paris.
She moved through life differently after that; living in her head, but detached from her heart and body. No one ever touched Jane again because the only person whose touch she wanted was gone.
Her ageing parents, likely motivated by the state of grief she was in, asked her to come back home. She returned to the Bay and settled into her position at the seminary, where she remained for the next 25 years. To me, it seemed as though no one took the time to learn more about Jane, who she had been or who she was. She was an original, a bonafide scholar, who had lived quite an extraordinary life until her heart was broken. I saw Jane and I listened to Jane.
‘ It was beautiful.’ She said of the Pierre Cardin party. ‘ Everyone was so chic. I'd never seen anything like it - that kind of glamour. Such a rare thing these days. People were so interesting - inspired to create and to live. That's what drove everyone - our love of life. We all knew we’re going to suffer and die, or lose someone like I did. We might as well enjoy ourselves with whatever time we have.’
Jane could look at an image of a painting and know the artist, period and type of paint used. ‘ Oh, that’s Velázquez, 1618 to 1619. Oil on linen. He was a master of the chiaroscuro technique. I could tell you more if we were looking at the original.’
(What?! Damn).
In Paris she met an older Frenchman and fell in love with him. They were married and as she told me, that was the happiest time of her life. Then just like that, her husband became ill and died. She never recovered from the loss and grief. She remained, emotionally at least, that young grieving widow, alone in Paris.
She moved through life differently after that; living in her head, but detached from her heart and body. No one ever touched Jane again because the only person whose touch she wanted was gone.
Her ageing parents, likely motivated by the state of grief she was in, asked her to come back home. She returned to the Bay and settled into her position at the seminary, where she remained for the next 25 years. To me, it seemed as though no one took the time to learn more about Jane, who she had been or who she was. She was an original, a bonafide scholar, who had lived quite an extraordinary life until her heart was broken. I saw Jane and I listened to Jane.
I'm drawn to interesting women who take different, non-linear paths in life - who do what isn't expected of them. Jane chose an academic life of the mind through art and beauty. Then came undone by the loss of an unexpected true love. At least she had known and experienced that.
Dr. Mary Jane Phillips passed away in 2019. Ne me quitte pas is a song written by Jacques Brel in 1959. Edith Piaf had a hit with it, then Nina Simone recorded a version of it in 1965.
It translates in English to ‘Do not leave me.’
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