And now my favourite France Gall song, Les Sucettes (Lollipops), composed by that depraved and wicked genius Serge Gainsbourg. Which can only mean two things.
The ironed hair! The demure white collar! The painted-on lower eyelashes! OMG it's all coming back to me. This may be history to you, my boy, but it's memory to me, even if I was just barely into my teens. It took a very long time to get one's hair to look like that, and one risked third-degree burns to the face.
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The ironed hair! The demure white collar! The painted-on lower eyelashes! OMG it's all coming back to me. This may be history to you, my boy, but it's memory to me, even if I was just barely into my teens. It took a very long time to get one's hair to look like that, and one risked third-degree burns to the face.
Word verification: 'scars'. I swear.
Word up, Pav! Hard yards and scars huh? Still, gorgeous look. Or is that "scrummy"?
Of course, its all one big 'frappez le bourgeoisie' from Serge, cloaked in innocent, beautiful melody.
There's another Les Sucettes clip out there that gives the game away.
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