As promised, today I have a new My Inner French Girl Post, only it’s not about Mirette. So far, we’ve seen how she spends her mornings (lazily), how she spends her afternoons (lazily, in the park), where she lives, what she wears to brunch, how she spends her vacation (lazily, by the beach), what she does for work (thankfully un-lazily, as it’s her source of income), and even what her name is. But there are other people in her life that need a little attention, too. Take Sylvie, for example. Her boss.
Sylvie owns Gallery Victor in Saint-Germain, a surrealist and late impressionist gallery that often exhibits her own husband’s work. She is married to Andrés, a Spanish painter 15 years her senior. She is in her mid-40s, and is one of those annoyingly perfect French women we always hear about: impossibly chic, stunning, elegant, only she curses like a sailor. She is independent to a fault, but has to come to rely on Mirette during the three years Mirette has been her assistant. They both fulfill something in each other, as Sylvie never had children of her own, and Mirette has absent mother issues that are taking me forever to figure out. Sylvie is quickly become one of my favorite characters to write, her caustic wit matched in ferocity only by her maternal streak. And I admire any woman (real or fictional) who dresses like this and makes it look effortless. Trust me, Sylvie does. She even walks from her apartment in the 3eme to the gallery in the 6eme in heels (and not just any heels, but Louboutins, of course). Oh, and she wears clear-framed glasses. I might have borrowed that from real life, who knows. ;)