TRANSFORMATION D'UNE BOURGEOISE
by Conchita
translated from French and adapted by
Monica
Translators Note
The story is happening in Paris of the
early 1970s and could be based on real facts. At the time Portugal was
still a very poor country and not a member of the European Union.
Lots of poor girls and married women were coming from there to work in
France as factory workers, cleaners and maids. Many of those girls
were working as live in maids in many Parisian bourgeois houses or
apartments. If they were working in
apartments they had there own separate
rooms at the top of the building, usually in the 6th floor, at what was
called 'la chambre de bonne' (maid's room). Of course there was no elevator
in those buildings of the late
19th century and the maids were going
down from the back service stairs
to the kitchen door of the apartment
they were working. They were not
allowed to use the font entrance of the
building even when they were out
of uniform and not on duty. For them
there was the back or side service
entrace to come and go, the same way
that the garbage was coming down as
well. All those apartment buildings had
there own live in concierge who
had a little place to stay either by
the entrance or in the basement. The
concierge was usually the 'terror' of
all live in maids because she was
checking on them all the time,
reporting back to their employers.
So the term Portuguese maid/housekeeper
or 'femme de menage Portugaise'
was synonymous to a poor backwards
peasant girl or woman often illiterate,
coming form the rural areas of Portugal
to work in the sophisticated
Paris. The rich bourgeois Parisians had
the tendency of course to look
down on them.
At the time they were lots of
specialized shops in those rich Parisian
suberbs, selling 'domestic workwear'
for those in live in service. Those
shops were called 'blouses et tabliers
boutiques' (overalls and aprons
shops).
In today's Paris, as elsewhere in the
western world live in maids are a
rarity. Portuguese women are rich and
elegant an go to Paris for their
shopping and the 'blouses et tabliers
boutiques' are nearly gone.
CHAPTER 1
My husband left me!! I simply can not
believe it! It finally happened
and it happened just like that.
Yesterday he announced to me that he had
an affair with a nurse (how banal Mon
Dieu!) Working in his clinic and
they were moving out of the country to
start new parallel careers in an
exclusive private clinic in Milan,
Italy! I simply can not believe it,
my husband decided to leave his beloved
Paris for an Italian city, even
if that is Milan? Later I understood
that this was planned well ahead and
it was me in my notorious innocence and
naivety that didn't pick anything.
He packed a suitcase of clothes and
personal things in a haste and left
yesterday evening directly for the
airport, they had a late flight to
catch. He said that He didn't need
anything else from the house which
belonged to me anyway, through family
inheritence. But in a goodwill
gesture, as he said, he left everything
that we bought together for the
house the five years we stayed
together.
We parted as friends without
unnecessary scenes, we both were low key
people and we didn't like screams and
abuses. He even managed to convince
me that he wasn't good enough for me,
he wasn't the type of man I needed
etc. Probably he had a point. I really
don't know. Of course after he
was gone a terribe emptiness overtook
me and I started crying bitterly
on my own. It took me some time to calm
down and only after I took a
sleeping tablet I was able to go into a
deep dreamless sleep.
I opened my eyes quite late the next
day, it was past ten in the morning
and I could hear the familiar noise of
the vacuum cleaner from the floor
below. God I forgot! It was Monique our
Portuguese cleaning lady. I felt
uneasy I had to explain to her what
happened. She was coming to the house
3 times a week and we were quite happy
with her. All of sudden the feeling
of emptiness came back to me. I was
still thinking in terms of WE, but
I was alone now! Tears started coming
up tp my eyes and I desperately
tried to control myself.
Soon I was in the dining room where
usually breakfast was served when
Monique was around. She saw me and I
must have looked quite a sight
because she stopped what she was doing
and came towards me, a concerned
look in her face. She looked very neat
in her light blue overall dress
and her matching bib apron and head
scarf. I was a firm believer that
a domestic in the house should look the
part, nothing fancy, just a
practical maid's uniform.
"Bonjour Madame, you look terrible
this morning, is everything
alright?" "Non Monique pas
du tous, everything is not alright" I said
and tears started coming up again.
"Pauvre Madame, please tell everything
to Monique"
And I started and I said to her in
detail what happened, sobbing softly
at the same time.
(1- à suivre)
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