Jane Birkin, who died this week at the age of 76, appeared to be a delightful woman – attractive, adventurous and stoic. Nevertheless, I had to look twice at the Daily Mail headline on Monday which screeched ‘Jane Birkin, a true style icon who put today’s trashy celebs to shame’.
Are they talking about the same Jane Birkin, I wonder? The one whose first film role, when still a teenager, was as a naked, nameless model ‘romping’ in a threesome with David Hemmings and Gillian Hills? I mean, talk about nice work if you can get it – but pretty ‘trashy’ if you want to fling around words like that about actual human beings, which I generally don’t.
Even men who were not sexually interested in her fetishised her lack of self-esteem
The same goes for that awful cheesy horror of a pop song ‘Je t’aime… moi non plus’ which Serge Gainsbourg originally wrote for his married lover Brigitte Bardot and recorded with her before she demanded that it not be released after her husband indicated his displeasure.
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