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Paris Adieu

~ a coming of age tale by Rozsa Gaston

Paris Adieu

Category Archives: French culture

Anne and Charles: Passion and Politics in Late Medieval France

08 Monday Jan 2018

Posted by rozsagaston in female rulers, French culture, girls, girls role model, History, Love, Relationships, Renaissance, role model, women

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Anne de Bretagne, Anne of Brittany, avant la lettre feminist, book, Breton ruler, brittany queen, charles viii, de bretagne, duchess, France, Louis XII

Fine Wines Fine Quotes

Kirkus review blurbANNE AND CHARLES

Passion and Politics in Late Medieval France: The Story of Anne of Brittany’s Marriage to Charles VIII

Book One of the Anne of Brittany Series

by Rozsa Gaston

Publication date: Jan. 22, 2018
Publisher: Renaissance Editions
357 pps.
eBook, paperback, audiobook by Tantor Media coming spring 2018

A historically sharp and dramatically stirring love story. — Kirkus Reviews

A historical dramatization of the 15th-century marriage between Anne of Brittany and Charles VIII of France.

Upon the death of Anne’s father, Duke Francis II, she becomes the ruler of Brittany at the tender age of 11. Determined not to have her authority usurped by meddling advisers or foreign powers, she searches for a suitable husband whose allegiance will bring peace and security to Brittany. She’s offered protection—as well as condolences—by King Charles VIII of France, but she rejects his offer as an imperialist scheme to gain…

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The Impeccable Hauteur of Jacqueline de Ribes

14 Monday Dec 2015

Posted by rozsagaston in aesthetics, Beauty and fashion, female rulers, French culture, girls, Hot & Trending, Metropolitan Museum of Art exhibit, modern life, Self-discovery, trending, women

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Christian Dior, Elizabeth Taylor, Jackie Kennedy, Jacqueline de Ribes, Jacqueline Onassis, Marlon Brando, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Pierre Balmain, Richard Burton, The Art of Style exhibit, zeitgeist

Rozsa Gaston - Author

The Impeccable Hauteur of Jacqueline de Ribes
By Rozsa Gaston for The Westchester Guardian, Dec. 10, 2015

“Elegance. It’s an attitude. A frame of mind. An intuition, a refusal, a rigor, a research, a knowledge. The attitude of elegance is also a way of behaving.”—Jacqueline de Ribes

Jacqueline de Ribes by Victor Skrebneski, 1983 Jacqueline de Ribes in her own desgin, 1983. Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Photograph by Victor Skrebneski, ©Skrebneski Photograph, 1983

Gift yourself this holiday season with a visit to see Jacqueline de Ribes: The Art of Style, The Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute’s latest exhibit. The impeccable hauteur of Parisian designer Jacqueline de Ribes is on display now through February 21, 2016 in a dazzling exhibit featuring 60 haute couture and ready-to-wear ensembles from her personal archive, dating from 1962 on. The clothes are gorgeous, unfussy, and vibrantly colorful. But the exhibit’s focus on Jacqueline de Ribes’ life and imprint…

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08 Thursday Oct 2015

Posted by rozsagaston in education, female rulers, French culture, girls, History, hot, Hot & Trending, Love, queens, Relationships, Renaissance, role model, Romance, trending, women

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Anne of Brittany, book, Claude of France, daughters, education, female rulers, feminist, girls, history, hot, Hot & Trending, Kindle Scout, Louis XII, queen, Renaissance, Sense of Touch, trending, women

Sense of Touch banner shotSense of Touch is burning up the Hot & Trending list of Kindle Scout nominations for the second week of its one month campaign to receive a publishing contract. Why?

Readers want to know more about her.

Anne of Brittany is a fascinating historical figure about whom almost nothing has been written in English. Her dates? 1477-1514. She reigned as Queen of France after Eleanor of Aquitaine (1122-1204) and before Catherine de Medici (1519-1589).

Douleur du Roi sans Fils by Jean Pichore, c. 1503

Douleur du Roi sans Fils by Jean Pichore, c. 1503

This week I uncovered a powerful and poignant painting of her with husband Louis VII by court painter Jean Pichore. The name of the painting says it all: Douleur du Roi sans Fils. Translation: Sorrow of the King without a Son.

Before you feel sorry for Anne of Brittany, don’t.

Claude of France

Claude of France, eldest daughter of Anne of Brittany and Louis XII

She may not have brought a son to adulthood, but she succeeded with two daughters, Claude of France, and Renée of France. Claude of France married Francis I, known as the Renaissance King, and produced Henry II, husband of Catherine de Medici.

Anne’s Breton blood found its way into the French royal bloodline through her daughter, not her sons. Her leadership skills, authority and self-confidence have informed French women ever since. Long live Anne of Brittany, vive Anne de Bretagne!

Speaking of sons, she had many. All of them either stillborn, dead hours after birth, weeks after birth, or by age three.

Let’s take a look at the full Jean Pichore painting of Anne of Brittany with second husband Louis XII.

We see Louis XII, King of France, looking sad. The man behind him looks at the queen with a recriminating expression, as if to say, “Why can’t you produce a son for France?”

We see Anne of Brittany, Queen of France looking regal, confident, not sad at all. Defiant, in fact. Why?

She’s pointing to their daughter, Claude of France. “What’s wrong with the daughter I gave you?” she appears to be saying.Sadness of a King without a Son, Jean Pichore, c. 1503

Sadness of the King without a Son, Jean Pichore, c. 1503

Who’s in the hot seat here? Anne.

Who’s the power on the throne? Anne.

Who’s appealing to whom? Louis and his court are appealing to Anne.

Who’s the boss? Anne.  She was also a loving and deeply beloved wife to both of her husbands, Charles VIII of France before Louis, and Louis XII of France.

The more I learn about this French Renaissance queen, the more I fall in love with her.

Anne of Brittany is an amazing historical role model for girls. Please nominate my book about her here.

Keep Sense of Touch on Kindle Scout’s Hot & Trending list until campaign ends Oct. 20. It’s FREE to vote and if Sense of Touch is selected for publication you will receive the eBook free.

I can’t wait to share more with you about Anne of Brittany.

Warmly,

Author Rozsa Gaston

“Some man will fall in love with that lithe figure and the mystery of those elongated eyes.”~Colette, Claudine in Paris

10 Thursday Apr 2014

Posted by rozsagaston in Beauty and fashion, French culture, modern life, Relationships, Uncategorized

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au pair, au pair in Paris, Audible, Audible.com, audio, audiobooks, books, coming-of-age, contemporary fiction, culture, fiction, Julie McKay, Paris, Rozsa Gaston, self-discovery, The Ava Series, travel fiction

Rene Gruau Paris WomanTravel to Paris this April without the airfare. Listen to a short audioclip from Paris Adieu here: https://soundcloud.com/audible/paris-adieu

Paris Adieu out now in audiobook format with Audible.com. Also in paperback and eBook. Read. Review. Enjoy April in Paris with Paris Adieu this spring.

Warmly, Rozsa Gaston

 

 

“WHAN that Aprille with his shoures soote The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veyne in swich licour, Of which vertu engendred is the fleur.”—Chaucer, Prologue to Canterbury Tales

07 Monday Apr 2014

Posted by rozsagaston in French culture, History, modern life, Relationships, Self-discovery, Uncategorized

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April, Black is Not a Color, Canterbury Tales, Chaucer, Greenwich, Party with Moms, PIFS, Putnam Indian Field School, Rozsa Gaston

Party with Moms interviews Rozsa Gaston today as their Mom of the Week. Read here and if you enjoy, sign up for the Party with Moms weekly newsletter. http://partywithmoms.com/party-with-moms-interviews-rozsa-gaston-prolific-author/

Chaucer's Canterbury TalesOnce, just a few Aprils ago, I was a freshman in college and forced to memorize the first twelve lines of the prologue to Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.

Imagine my delight when I realized that Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales were terribly tickly, not to mention positively ribald in parts! Not some old, moldy, medieval stanzas, but colorful, naughty and well worth the effort to make out the Olde English words.

Geoffrey Chaucer c. 1343-1400

Here’s first twelve lines of the most sensational poem written about April I’ve ever come across. Enjoy!

WHAN that Aprille with his shoures soote
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the fleur;

Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,

And smale fowles maken melodye,
That slepen al the night with open ye,
So priketh hem nature in hir corages:
Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,

And palmers for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes;
And specially, from every shires ende
Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,

The holy blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke.

Excerpt from Black is Not a Color

“Did you sleep?” Narcisa whispered to me as the owner of the male voice headed toward the nearest silver-tray-carrying waiter to capture two glasses of white wine for us.
“Did I what?”
“Did you sleep?” she asked again.
“Yes. I slept well, thank you” I answered confusedly. Did I look tired to her?
“You don’t have to tell me who it was. But tell me—who was it?”highres_front
“Uh—it was me. I mean I slept well. Didn’t you?”
“Ohhh no. I didn’t sleep. I had friends who helped me,” Narcisa whispered back, one eyebrow lifted significantly.
“Ohhh, I see. Uh—no I didn’t sleep. I—uh- took the tests last spring and they called me the beginning of August.” Startled by the conversational curveball, I stepped back from Narcisa, still intrigued but alerted that I had no idea who I was dealing with. The U.N. was on international territory. American rules no longer applied.
“The tests. Everyone takes the tests. So what? How did you get the job?” she pressed.
“Like I said, I took the tests. That was it. I waited, I gave up hope, then they called.” I shrugged in what I hoped was the classic Gallic way, perfected by my recent stay in Paris.
Narcisa studied me as I spoke. It was like taking a lie-detector test. Suddenly I felt as if I’d slept even when I hadn’t.
“So you just took the tests and they called you. That was it?”
“Yes,” I said, crisply. I tried to look like I wasn’t lying, even when I wasn’t. It was confusing talking to Narcisa.

Black is Not a Color © 2014 by Rozsa Gaston

“The point in life…is to find equilibrium in what is inherently unstable.”~Pierre

05 Wednesday Mar 2014

Posted by rozsagaston in Beauty and fashion, French culture, Health, modern life, Relationships, Self-discovery, Uncategorized

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aging parents, bad boys, Black is Not a Color, book club, caregiving, Chanel, eldercare, european intellectual history, Hungarian culture, Hungary, Jamie Cat Callan, Jane Stern, Meredith Schorr, my book club; book club recommendation;, Paris Adieu, Reverdy, Rimbaud, romance, Rozsa Gaston, women's fiction

The point in life…is to find equilibrium in what is inherently unstable.~Pierre Reverdy from Coco Chanel by Lisa Chaney

Who Pierre Reverdyis Pierre Reverdy? An early twentieth century French poet and influencer of others. He made Arthur Rimbaud look like a choir boy.

Reverdy was a dear friend of Gabrielle Coco Chanel. Handsome, independent, a trifle brutish, he appealed to the peasant woman buried deep inside the exquisite Chanel.

In other words, Chanel’s bad boy. Need I say more? cocochanelquote

Find out more about bad boys in my latest book Black is Not a Color, sequel to Paris Adieu. Out in audiobook, it’s the story of Ava Fodor’s struggle to care for her father while cultivating her relationship with her new French boyfriend Pierre. Not a bad boy. Black frontcoverToo good for Ava, in her mind, in fact.

Can Ava measure up? First she needs to measure up to caring for her father, who didn’t raise her as a child. Not easy.backcover

Ava is not the only grown up child of a parent who didn’t raise her. There are many men and women with such a tale out there. Coco Chanel was one. If Ava’s idol Chanel could get beyond a rough start in life, so can Ava. So can you.

Listen to Ava’s story in Black is Not a Color and take inspiration. Move out of the shadows of a less than ideal childhood and take your place in the sun. Coco Chanel is your lodestar. And Ava’s story in Black is Not a Color will help you find the hero within yourself.

Warmly,

Rozsa Gaston

Surf’s up – get playful.

01 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by rozsagaston in Beauty and fashion, Fitness & exercise, French culture, Health, modern life, Self-discovery

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care giving, fitness and exercise, French culture, fu, March, Nancy Moon, Paris Adieu, self-care, spring's arrival, surfing, Vitamin D, women's health, women's issues follow your bliss, women's well-being

Nancy Moon rides the waves
Nancy Moon rides the waves

Surf’s up – get playful.

March’s debut heralds spring’s arrival. Throw off those February doldrums and get playful. You.

What’s that? You spend all your time helping others so you can’t find time to play? Care giving at both ends of the generational spectrum? Tired of everything, starting with yourself?

Stop boring me to tears. Get up from your desk, get outside, and get playful. That’s an order.

Here’s a babe who knows how to do just that. Does this chick look like she’s sitting around compiling a grocery list for dinner? Don’t think so. The Moon Girl is in the moment, following her bliss. What about you?

Facing the wave
Facing the wave

By the way, Moon Girl is not twenty-five years old or under. She just looks like she is because she feels like she is. Not all the time, but at the moment these images capture.

Can’t afford to drop everything and take a trip to a surfing destination, never mind that you don’t know how to surf? That’s not an excuse.

Moon Girl glows in golden sun
Moon Girl glows in golden sun

Get out there and get some sun on your face. Today. That’s right, go out and greet Mr. Golden Sun and feel the vitamin D pour into your soul, filling every cell of your body with vitality. It’s easy, really.

The sun glows golden in the late afternoon right before it begins to descend. It’s a bit like the way the French refer to a woman of a certain age as “une femme mûre” or “a ripe woman.” The French highly admire attractive women in their golden late afternoon chapter. Many Americans do too. Connoissieurs of finely seasoned beauty can be found in many unexpected places. Find out more in Chapter Ten of Paris Adieu.

Did you see that man on the corner giving you the eye as you sauntered past? What? You didn’t notice? Next time you take a walk, saunter. Find your inner French femme. When you start to do that, the connoissieurs of this world will take note. Promise. You may even want to meet some of them. You won’t, if you’re in a rush.

Now back to your March marching orders. Go outside this afternoon and let the sun’s golden rays sink into your psyche. Later in the afternoon, coincident with that mid-afternoon energy slump, the sun’s rays are less bad for your skin than  between the hours of 10 am and 3 pm. Have you got a packed day today? Don’t have a single second to yourself?

Fuggedaboutit. Make it happen, darling. Take ten minutes and instead of hitting the vending machine, go downstairs, out the door, and say hello to the world that is your stage. Connect with nature. Open your ears to hear what that bird is singing about. He’s heralding spring’s arrival. A few weeks early, granted, but he’s out there noticing all the signs, just as you should be.

Thumbs up to life
Moon Girl says thumbs up to life

Thumbs up to life, friends. If yours isn’t as glamorous as Moon Girl’s, remember — these shots capture just one golden afternoon. The rest of the time she’s running around like the rest of us, busy, attending to the needs of others, spilling her vitality right and left. But inside, she has bottomless energy to give. Because she knows she’s Moon Girl. Be a Moon Girl too. Follow your bliss. You owe it to yourself. Start today.

Playfully yours,

Rozsa

Paris in Shades of Gray

10 Monday Dec 2012

Posted by rozsagaston in French culture

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book club, Christmas gift, Eiffel Tower, gift idea, Kindle book, Paris, Paris Adieu, romance, shades of gray, travel in France, travel to France

shades of gray in Paris

At this time of year, Paris shows off in shades of gray. 

From mid-November to mid-March, Paris is one long season of gray days with the occasional breakthrough of a mild blue sky. None of those brilliant blue skies of a snappy, cold January day in New York, darlings. Instead, Paris cloaks us in somber, reflective gray that drives us inside to warm cafes and cozy corners where we keep company with a good book and let our imaginations wander.

An excerpt from Paris Adieu a coming-of-age tale of Ava’s journey to self-discovery in the City of Light. Christmas stocking stuffer? Yes, darlings. The season quickly sizzles between the pages of Paris Adieu.

PAris in shades of gray

Soon cloudless, warm October days gave way to iron-gray, rainy, cold November ones. The memory of Paris’s long, drab winter the year I’d turned twenty returned to me. Paris was nowhere near as cold as New York, but its skies were unrelentingly gray during the winter season, unlike the azure-blue brilliance of certain New York days in early winter. November to March in Paris was like one long month of February in New York.

Almost every day, I walked in Père Lachaise, where Arnaud and I had frequently strolled the month before. I began to notice the regulars who frequented the area: dog-walkers, couples, and lone walkers. All of us seemed shrouded in private thoughts – the cemetery a perfect backdrop for our self-reflection.

The Seine in shades of gray
Statue over the Seine, Paris

Upon entering the main gates late one gloomy, gray Friday morning I spotted a notice affixed to the lamppost next to the entrance. A print of a painting of a sharp-faced, aristocratic looking man announced an artist’s opening exhibit at a local gallery the following day, Saturday, November fifteenth. Startled, I realized a month had already passed since Arnaud had left. Even more shocked, I realized I hadn’t thought about him very much over the past few days.

I examined the poster more closely. The man’s petulant expression was similar to the way Arnaud looked at times. Almost guiltily, I admitted to myself I didn’t like that side of him at all. It reminded me of the sharp-featured, beautiful woman in the photo in his country home. I didn’t like her either. Suddenly, it made sense to me why he’d spoken of her as his mentor. They were most likely two of a kind – all angles, questions, and sharp edges. For the first time, I gave myself permission to accept how very different Arnaud was from me. I loved learning from him. But I wasn’t like him at all. Why was I trying so hard to fit into the image of a woman he might fall in love with?

Paris in shades of gray

I continued on my way into the cemetery, where I passed the next hour deep in self-examination. À chacun son goût, to each his own taste, Arnaud had said. On my own, without him around, I was free to explore what my own tastes were.

I picked my way among the monuments and gravestones, mulling over the possibility that my own choices might differ from the man I was involved with. My thoughts were subversive. My mind tingled and raced. I was falling in love with a new person.

Myself.

As I made my way down the main boulevard toward the exit, a tall, lean-faced man walked toward me. His gait was awkward, as if he was just renting space in his own body and wasn’t quite familiar with it.

As he passed, his eyes briefly made contact with mine. They were warm, strangely reassuring. Instantly, I felt a connection. Whoever he was, he wasn’t polished, smooth, one hundred per cent self-sufficient and perfectly packaged like most Parisians appeared to be, foremost among them – Arnaud. This stranger seemed a bit out of his element, interested to reach out. He hadn’t yet arrived, I’d guess. Just like me.

I shivered, hurrying on to escape my illicit thoughts. I was crazy about Arnaud’s blue-green eyes. Why had I even noticed for a moment the warm, brown eyes of a stranger? Shaking my head to clear it from conjecture’s cobwebs, I berated myself. Yet the thought remained. Arnaud’s glance didn’t reassure me. It was exciting, electrifying – but rarely reassuring. Was that what I really wanted out of a relationship with a man?

From Paris Adieu, chptr. 14, by Rozsa Gaston. A sizzling tale to lose yourself in when the season cloaks you in shades of gray.

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