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PARTISAN REVIEW
me , either. Well , what was wrong with me wasn't prudery. Anything
but! It went much deeper than that. It's very simple. For me , a body
without clothes is .. . it's a tree without leaves, or flowers, or fruit. A
tree in winter, as you might say. Just wood! Then you will ask me:
And what about clothes without a body? Now
that's
quite a different
matter! They haven't come alive yet when they're in a shop window
or inside the shop, but they show promise! Well, the thing is, if you
had to choose between a body without clothes and clothes without a
body, which would you prefer? Er. . .. Actually, I'm only hesitating
out of politeness, so as not to seem too dogmatic. But to be quite
honest, I wouldn't hesitate a moment! For me a body is only a .. . a
thing to display clothes on, a clothes peg, that's all. And long live
frillies!
Then what about Antoinette, you'll ask. Ah, but my wife wasn't
unhappy! Sometimes it's an advantage to have a husband like me .
Antoinette was the best got up woman in
Alen~on.
It
was a sort of
pact between us, a balance, a funny sort of balance to tell the truth .
To start with we had agreed that she would never appear naked in
front of me. Never! Nakedness is for when you're washing. Not for
me. None of my business . Private . A woman's secret. A shameful
secret. Every man for himself in that domain . But as she was very
sweet she always chose amusing undies, comic things, if you see
what I mean . Only the trouble was, Antoinette had been brought up
in a convent. So, obviously, her daring innovations were always a
bit restrained. And then, we lived in
Alen~on ,
and although
Alen~on
is a charming town, and they even make beautiful lace there, when it
comes to naughty frillies,
Alen~on,
huh?
One day I pulled a little package out of my pocket. A surprise for
Antoinette . She opened it: a bra. In black satin . Unfortunately, I'd
had rather big ideas. Naturally, the imagination embellishes every–
thing. And Antoinette's boobs went bouncing up and down in it like
those pink tropical birds, waxbills, in their cage. I had to go and
change it. But the lesson had borne fruit. I made a note of all Antoi–
nette's measurements, her size in everything. At first I wrote it all
down, then I learned it all by heart. I could recite it for you now,
twenty years later. She was a numbered woman , was Antoinette,
measured, indexed, quantified. . . . And every two months I brought
the whole thing up to date. Obviously, because women change. That
way, no more mistakes. And it was necessary, because I rarely came
home empty-handed. There was no stopping it, and everything be–
came more and more fashionable, more and more sophisticated, less
