
A couple of
weeks ago in Berlin we went down to where the square ladies shop. There
are a lot of square ladies in Berlin; small, veiled Turkish women who appear as
wide as they are tall. These square ladies know their onions, so we shop where
they shop to get the best and the freshest in fruit and vegetables. It was a
bitterly cold day, cusping the harsh winter and the tentative beginning of
spring, and would be, therefore, my last chance this season to don my gilet of
multi-coloured fur.
As it was lunchtime, we went to the backshop, chose our cheese and spinach pastries, our tri-corn chocolate nut cookies and our milchcafes and as the café was crowded, took them outside, to sit in the cane chairs, wrapped in the fleece blankets provided, on the pavement in front of the shop. (When we first started going to Berlin I thought the Prussians must have a lot of lumbar problems to warrant so many shops purportedly selling back pain alleviating equipment. Then I saw the loaves in the window and smelled the warm yeast smell.) We were sitting happily eating, watching the (mainly Turkish) world go by, when one young fellow laughed to his friend and said "es ist Allerleirauh!" I only caught it as he passed, and didn't get a chance to jump up and hug him for recognizing my winter persona as an ancient fairytale princess.
My reincarnation began last year on
the feast of St André. Every year on the first Tuesday of December the
centre of the city of Annecy in the Haute Savoie is taken over by a huge
market. There are stalls on every street and the shops put counters
of sale stock outside their doors. Dealers arrive from all over the country in
trucks full of cheap Asian clothing and white porcelain from Limoges.
Amongst the whittled wood Alpine artifacts and red and white table linens of
the Savoie are the ubiquitous South American pan pipers dressed in chamois and
feathers. Music also plays from the loudspeakers of CD vendors and the
air is full of the smell of roasting meat and chestnuts, melting cheese, boiling
fat for frites.... and as darkness falls, the warm spicy aroma of vin chaud.
The favoured snack is a large baguette filled with a scoop from the
bubbling centre of a half moon of Reblochon, cooking on a spit. Into the
elastic liquid is pressed a shoveling of pommes frites and the whole is
sandwiched together for eating on the hoof.
On many stalls last year were
scarves of bobbled rabbit fur and dresses and coats in synthetics and wool
shoddy labelled "Tendence Desigual," cheap designs based on the
designs of the Spanish fashion company which uses patches of brightly coloured
materials, strange collages and stitched narrative. There was also a stall
selling fur clothing, no doubt from China and brought up along the spine of the
Alps in a van from Provence. It was there I saw a sleeveless jacket, hip
length, zipped, made from a patchwork of small pieces of multi-coloured fox
fur. I bought the jacket and when I put it on, instantly become the
princess Allerleirauh "A Thousand Skins."
Once upon a time there was a king
who promised his wife on her deathbed he would only re-marry a woman as
beautiful as she. Bereaved, for a long time he had no thoughts of taking a new
wife, but was counselled that the kingdom needed a queen. Messengers were
sent to look for a woman whose beauty equalled that of his wife, but in the
entire world, none was found.
The king had a daughter, just as
beautiful as her dead mother, and in time she grew up and one day the king
looked at the young woman and had an idea. He told his councillors
"I will marry my daughter." The councillors were shocked and warned
that such a deed was against God and a crime from which no good would come.
The daughter was still more shocked when she learned of her father's
resolve. In an effort to stave off the evil day, she said that before the
wedding could take place, she would need a dress as gold as the sun, a dress as
silver as the moon, a dress as bright as the stars and a mantle of one thousand
different furs woven together; one skin from every type of animal in the
kingdom. The king sent out his hunters and summoned his cleverest seamstresses
to create the clothing. When they were all ready, the king declared the wedding
for the next day.
The princess saw she there was no
way out of the marriage except escape, so that night, she folded the three
dresses into a nutshell, put on her coat of a thousand furs, blackened her face
and hands with soot and commending herself to God, sneaked out of the silent
palace. She walked all night long until at daybreak she reached a great
forest where she fell asleep, hidden in a hollowed tree.
It so happened that the king of
this particular forest was out hunting and when his dogs came to the tree, they
ran around it, sniffing and barking. The king ordered his huntsmen to
investigate what kind of animal was hiding there. The huntsmen returned
saying they had found a wondrous beast with fur of a thousand different kinds
and were told to catch the beast. The princess woke in terror and crying that
she was just a poor deserted child, begged that they would take pity on her and
not harm her. "Allerleiruah" they said "thou wilt be useful in
the kitchen, come with us and thou canst sweep up the ashes. " They put
her at the back of the carriage and took her to their palace where they showed
her a closet under the stairs and said "Hairy animal, here canst thou live
and sleep." So the beautiful princess became Allerleiruah "a thousand
skins" and for a long time she lived in great wretchedness, working in the
kitchen, carrying wood and water, sweeping the hearth, plucking fowls, cleaning
vegetables for the cook.
Beautiful princesses who run away for
the sake of their virtue do not continue to live in wretchedness all their
lives....but you must read the story of Allerleiruah yourself to discover the
ending..........
Meanwhile, back
in the twenty first century on the last season of the "Ugly Betty"
television series about a New York fashion magazine, their most stylish
character appeared in a long, belted version of my patchwork fur and I saw the
same in a Berlin shop for €2,000. Throughout the winter I wear
my gilet and the persona of the princess, and as the Gulf Stream changes
course, I am snug and warm in my coat of a thousand furs. That was
why I was not annoyed but rather delighted, to be recognized on the streets of
Berlin as Allerleiruah "A Thousand Furs."
This sounds a little like the Peau d'Ane story (Perrault) and Jacques Démy film of the same name where Catherine Deneuve gets her deluded dad to make her 3 dresses " l'une couleur du temps, l'autre couleur de lune, la dernière couleur du soleil". When this fails to dissuade his misplaced ardours she requests another gown, this time obliging the king to make the ultimate sacrifice, his favourite, magic, money-making donkey 's skin. Inevitably donkey skin ends up in a kitchen baking cakes until a handsome ( hungry?) prince decides she makes the best cup cakes this side of Greenwich village...... and you know the end of the story.
Multi coloured fox is definitely classier than a dead donkey Isabel - and especially waiting for the limo outside the airport! (well okay, your very own prince P). Lovely to read you.
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