Jupe-Culotte

Did you study French in the 80s? Did you have a textbook that was from AT LEAST the 1970s, probably the '60s, that featured an assortment of francophone teenagers around the world from whom you were supposed to learn important phrases? Do you remember that Denise was from Montreal, for example, that she wore a goofy hat because she liked to "fait du ski," and that she liked to eat a "sandwich au jambon," while the gal from Martinique (Marie-"something French") preferred a camembert sandwich or some other such snack?

Do you remember that, in that book, among the basic clothing vocabulary included for memorization in an early chapter (along with the most out-of fashion, crazy looking photo examples) were the "jupe-culotte" (culottes) and the "robe chasuble" (jumper)?

I DO, and that fact was confirmed again this morning when I put on my new capri pants and looked in the mirror. All I could think as I examined my outfit was, "I think this is a actually a jupe-culotte. Oh my goodness, the jupe-culotte book, circa 1986 eighth-grade French."

I ended up majoring in French, and was lucky enough to live in France for a year of college, where I got to attend the Institut d'Etudes Politiques d'Aix-en-Provence (my other major was political science) with really amazing French (and other European) students. There, I studied economics, political art and cinema, French international relations, and constitutional law, and even had to memorize the UN charter in French, then take oral exams (gulp!) about all of these topics, among others. I travelled, met people, read French books and saw French films, and learned how to call a plumber to fix a "chauffe-eau" (gaslit sink water heater), then call them again with saltier language to actually finish the work. While I always loved French, I became the complete francophile I am today in Provence when I was 20 years old. I still love the way French feels when I have an occasion to speak it. And yet...

...now, 16+ years later, I find myself struggling to find even the most basic words in French. I can still carry on conversations, seemingly fluent, but then there are these weird vacuums in my memory---places where common words that I've used hundreds of times have disappeared. I usually remember them later, but it is the strangest feeling to know that, halfway through a conversation, I might forget the word spoon. Yes, spoon. "Cuiller". That one is just gone, and I have to look it up repeatedly. I grope around in my brain, finding "couteau" (knife) in its place, and while I should get points for at least finding a utensil that starts with the same letter, I don't want to ask for a knife to stir the cream in my coffee.

What is up with that? Isn't the brain the most deliciously nutty thing ever?

While I type, my husband is off studying brains. Since he began pursuing a PhD in neuroscience in 2004, we have had some of the most interesting discussions about the brainy things he is finding out, as well as everything that is NOT KNOWN about how our brains work. Every "we do this because our brains work this way" pop-psychology article that we encounter or that I was assigned in my graduate program (sorry, colleagues, but those fMRI references weren't always so useful, after all) comes under Mike's critical eye, and I always learn something in the process.

I think I have a new challenge for the hubby. Sure, I know he's deep in his own line of research, but when he has a free moment, I'd like for him to help me figure out how to repurpose the space in my noggin to solidify "cuiller" and eliminate "jupe-culotte", not to mention robe chasuble (my jumper-wearing days are over, in English and in French). I'll keep all the vocab for French wine, though, thank you, very much.


**For the French geeks, I do realize that the nouns I used in French technically should have been presented with their accompanying articles, but when I'm writing in mixed Franglais, the articles just sound weird. Weird trumps.