Agent Provocateur Undercover
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13th October 2005
I've spent the past few weeks in Provence where it's still warm enough to lounge around the pool in my new sugar-pink Agent Provocateur bra and knickers, which double as a saucy bikini. My uncle's house where I'm staying made a fleeting appearance in François Ozon's sultry 2003 movie Swimming Pool. This gratuitously sexy film (and I mean that in a good way) did what the French do best, i.e. compensated for the slightness of its preposterous plot with endless lingering shots of naked female flesh.
I've spent the past few weeks in Provence where it's still warm enough to lounge around the pool in my new sugar-pink Agent Provocateur bra and knickers, which double as a saucy bikini. My uncle's house where I'm staying made a fleeting appearance in François Ozon's sultry 2003 movie Swimming Pool. This gratuitously sexy film (and I mean that in a good way) did what the French do best, i.e. compensated for the slightness of its preposterous plot with endless lingering shots of naked female flesh.
The heroine, an author played by Charlotte Rampling, sleeps with a hairy handyman (who may or may not be a figment of her writerly imagination) who is also sleeping with her agent and ex-lover's daughter (also probably a figment of her writerly imagination). Don't you just love the French? Happily, Swimming Pool is available on DVD and is just the thing for those long autumn evenings with your lover. Ideal viewing conditions require a bottle of champagne and a tiger skin in front of the fire.
One thing I always notice in France is that despite the national passion for couture, French women tend to dress more conservatively than their English counterparts. There is little of the crazy street fashion and "underwear as outerwear" looks that typifies the British girl's wardrobe. Too much cleavage is definitely a style no-no in chic Gallic circles. Take the literary evening I chaired at the French Institute in London recently. The French women who attended were typically elegant while I suddenly felt that my diaphanous Ghost frock revealed rather too much of my AP bra. I consoled myself with the thought that my costume suited the carnival-of-the-bizarre atmosphere of Lobster - the novella under discussion. This disorientating fable by French artist Guillaume Lescable, tells how a beautiful but triste young woman experiences her first orgasm via the tender ministrations of a part-boiled crustacean on board the Titanic(I told you it was bizarre) before the lovers are cruelly separated. The slim and utterly compelling volume features opium dens, lobster orgies, tattoo parlours and corpses at the bottom of the Seine. Published by decadent literary house Dedalus, Lobster is for those of adventurous literary - and sexual - tastes.
Back in real-life land, the most enthralling work of non-fiction is Neil Strauss's The Game. The book tells how self-confessed geek Strauss became the disciple of America's top PUAs (pick-up artists) and eventually surpassed his teachers, bedding scores of beautiful women en route. The book is a riot of sexual indiscretions and seduction secrets (I particularly admired the stud who is paid by women to teach them how to give him better blow-jobs) and features walk-on cameos from the likes of Paris Hilton and Courtney Love. The latter appears in an Agent Provocateur negligée. Well, what else would a rock goddess wear? The Game is essential reading for men because it tells how even the least promising nerd can become a master seducer, and a must-read for women who need to recognise cynical Lotharios.
One final autumnal treat is the new BBC/HBO mini-series Rome. According to my woman with the illegal downloading software, this epic bonk-buster features uninhibited nudity and copious scenes of the type where Roman soldiers go at it doggy-style with peasant girls. And the gorgeous Polly Walker plays the scheming Atia, niece of Caesar, who is first viewed naked astride Mark Anthony while a servant fans her. Desperate Housewives will seem insipid by comparison.
One thing I always notice in France is that despite the national passion for couture, French women tend to dress more conservatively than their English counterparts. There is little of the crazy street fashion and "underwear as outerwear" looks that typifies the British girl's wardrobe. Too much cleavage is definitely a style no-no in chic Gallic circles. Take the literary evening I chaired at the French Institute in London recently. The French women who attended were typically elegant while I suddenly felt that my diaphanous Ghost frock revealed rather too much of my AP bra. I consoled myself with the thought that my costume suited the carnival-of-the-bizarre atmosphere of Lobster - the novella under discussion. This disorientating fable by French artist Guillaume Lescable, tells how a beautiful but triste young woman experiences her first orgasm via the tender ministrations of a part-boiled crustacean on board the Titanic(I told you it was bizarre) before the lovers are cruelly separated. The slim and utterly compelling volume features opium dens, lobster orgies, tattoo parlours and corpses at the bottom of the Seine. Published by decadent literary house Dedalus, Lobster is for those of adventurous literary - and sexual - tastes.
Back in real-life land, the most enthralling work of non-fiction is Neil Strauss's The Game. The book tells how self-confessed geek Strauss became the disciple of America's top PUAs (pick-up artists) and eventually surpassed his teachers, bedding scores of beautiful women en route. The book is a riot of sexual indiscretions and seduction secrets (I particularly admired the stud who is paid by women to teach them how to give him better blow-jobs) and features walk-on cameos from the likes of Paris Hilton and Courtney Love. The latter appears in an Agent Provocateur negligée. Well, what else would a rock goddess wear? The Game is essential reading for men because it tells how even the least promising nerd can become a master seducer, and a must-read for women who need to recognise cynical Lotharios.
One final autumnal treat is the new BBC/HBO mini-series Rome. According to my woman with the illegal downloading software, this epic bonk-buster features uninhibited nudity and copious scenes of the type where Roman soldiers go at it doggy-style with peasant girls. And the gorgeous Polly Walker plays the scheming Atia, niece of Caesar, who is first viewed naked astride Mark Anthony while a servant fans her. Desperate Housewives will seem insipid by comparison.
