wednesday 12. arrival-day.
2 p.m. : i arrive out of breath at the railway station about three minutes before my train leaves for cannes. i got three bags, one full of clothes to have the choice about what i’ll be wearing to look trendy, one full of cameras because, you know, work, the last one full of various important papers and books.
weather : gorgeous.
mood : excited.
4 p.m. : the car i’m in is the only smoking area, there’s a group of teenagers who never learned not to shout, i’m not sitting near the window. this trip is terrific.
weather : cloudy. what the f… ! am i going south or what ?
mood : already exhausted. headache on the rise.
6.50 p.m. : cannes. the surroundings of the station are awful. i’m waiting for my ride.
weather : a hard rain’s a gonna fall.
mood : disappointed. massive headache.
7.30 p.m. : a gorgeous blue convertible car stops in front of me. we leave at high speed for the flat rent by the crew i’m working with.
mood : cheered up. yeah, that’s what nice cars can do to you.
8.10 p.m. : at the flat. huge. nice. big balcony. wonderful view on the bay and hills around. i’m greeted by the crew and fall in the most comfortable armchair, waiting for a dinner and a bed.
weather : i should have gone to the carribean instead, i knew it.
mood : six aspirins kinda seem too much. or not.
11 p.m. : we eat a pizza at last. everyone has a cell phone glued to their ear, people keep coming in and out the flat. my only answer when i’m introduced to somone new is : hi, i’m the photographer, no i wasn’t in ibiza last summer, i’m tired and keep your weed for yourself, thank you.
midnight : we watch the fireworks that celebrate the openning of the festival. big yachts illuminate the bay. i dream of a bed.
mood : exhaustion and pain stabbing my eyes kinda leave me senseless.
1 a.m. : everyone is still busy. half of the crew is leaving for the VIP room, the nightclub where our party will take place tomorrow. i dream of a couch to have a bit of rest. my friend C. makes the promise that we’re going to bed soon.
mood : keeping faith.
1.30 a.m. : C. has finished all she had to finish, but we’ve lost the keys of the studio where we’re staying. J., our boss, has some keys in his pocket, but J. is at the VIP.
mood : losing faith.
2 a.m. : we leave for the VIP to get the keys. that’s fine, i say with a wry smile, i wanted to see where i’m going to work anyway. truth is, for once, i wouldn’t have minded the surprise.
mood : if this headache can’t kill me, then nothing will.
3.10 a.m. : back to the flat. J. didn’t have the right keys. F., a big tall guy tells me, you know juliette, you almost managed to have a bed to sleep in tonight. F. should be lucky that i’m really tired. he’s also lucky that he’s twice as big as me. i dream of a carpet to lay down and close my eyes.
mood : desperate.
3.40 a.m. C. finds the keys in her pocket. the very same pocket that she never ever uses.
mood : if i get nasty, my head will explode for sure.
thursday 13. d-day.
10 a.m. : C. gets up. i don’t, i slack in bed until 11.
weather : yeah, keep the curtains closed, that’s fine with me.
mood : nonathemomeeeentzzzz.
11 a.m. : getting up for real. the headache seems gone, for good i hope. i find really nice clothes in my bag to wear until tonight. i make plans for the day, the kind of plans that circumstances will never allow me to follow.
weather : perfection exists ! i knew it.
mood : excited. impatient. quite.
noon : enjoying breakfast and sunbathing on the balcony. i have to wait until someone gets back to the flat because of keys, like eight people can’t have theirs, right.
4 p.m. : leaving the flat on my own, headed to the Croisette ! there’s a shitload of people everywhere in town, everybody’s got a cell phone ringing all the time, and everybody’s got a pass for somewhere, and everybody’s got a look and everybody’s got an attitude. i take pictures of a lot of things, with a lot of people inside.
mood : this can’t be real life, right ?
5.50 p.m. : back at the flat. waiting for C. to be ready to leave again for the dj’s interview on a radio at the carlton hotel.
6.40 p.m. : leaving for the carlton with C. we have no idea where the carlton is, somewhere on the croisette, we’re guessing, probably the huge hotel with all the troy adds hanging to the balconies.
7 p.m. : at the carlton, which is as luxuous as the name predicts, I. from the radio greets us. everyone here looks kinda cool, everyone seems like having fun, some look like they’ve had too much rails of apricot juice, or maybe it’s the champagne, go figure. i take a glass of really good red wine, since the bar isn’t just open, but sort of do-it-yourself even.
mood : a smirk on my face, not the least bit surprised, eyes wide open though.
7.20 p.m. : the dj is here, the interview can begin. i shoot with my big camera, just to show who’s the photographer here. ha ! but it’s about the only thing i can do, since i’m a girl and dressed with JPG clothes.
8.30 p.m. : leaving with C. for the “before” party, in a bar, another open bar even.
9 p.m. : meeting M., a friend of C., a real nice interesting guy i need to mention. yeah, i was beginning to wonder, honest. having a couple of glasses of ros? with M., getting prepared to shoot.
9.02 p.m. : a memory is missing in my mind : i don’t have any mental image of putting my camera back in my bag.
9.03 p.m. : verification. visual memory is the death of me. distraction too. i tell C. i have forgotten my camera at the carlton, in a laugh, because it’s so ridiculous that i can’t even be ashamed of it.
9.04 p.m. : a phone call from I. : errr…tell me, didn’t your photographer forgot her camera here ?
9.20. p.m. : taking pictures, making my job at last.
mood : relieved. not very much embarrassed. blame it on the wine.
10.10 p.m. : leaving with C. for the flat where we’re going to get dressed before going back to the VIP.
11.05 p.m. : at the VIP, i’m introduced to everyone there. the lights seem quite okay. waiting impatiently for the party to begin so i can lose at least a third of my hearing.
mood : anxious.
00.20 a.m. : starting to make pictures.
2.50 a.m. : having a bit of vodka and apple juice to hold on. the headache is coming back, as a revenge of some sort for one whole day without it.
3.20 a.m. : having a real break outside. i feel like my brain has turned into liquid bubblegum, and my eyes are going to fall from my orbits soon. i have to close my eyelids to make sure i keep them in place.
3.50 a.m. : i meet C. by chance inside, she looks at tired as i am, we plan to leave soon, which as she says won’t be possible before 5 for sure.
4 a.m. : i manage to walk to the backstages where i sit down and drink liters of water.
5.10 a.m. : C. is finally ready to leave.
5.30 a.m. : back at the flat, hungry as hell. we turn the tv on and eat something light, while watching the night getting clearer, until we can’t find another word but “day” to call what’s outside.
7 a.m. : in bed. we fall asleep before having the time to think g’night.
friday 14. sun-day.
noon : phone call from the crew in the flat : “after” with champagne, wanna come ?
12.30 : my eyes burn a bit still, and i’m greeted with a : there’s no champagne anymore, how ’bout some vodka ? i’m at a point where anything is possible. i drink a shot of pure cold vodka “cul sec”, and surprisingly enough, i certainly could have another one right away. we sunbath until almost everyone finds a bed to sleep in.
mood : sunbathing alone is fine with me, and if morning coffee has to come after a shot of vodka, so be it, and everything would be perfect if you didn’t want to touch my breasts, thank you.
5 p.m. : we go in town with F. and C., to find a nice restaurant to eat something like a real meal.
7.30 p.m. : I. from the radio invites us again to drop by for a drink at the carlton, where i accept gracefully some champagne. it’s not like we’ll make an habit of it, but almost.
10 p.m. : back at the flat. i guess that C. and i had wished for a more quiet evening, but there are friends of friends of acquaintances there, most of them dumb and ugly, except for two of them, i make the count. i find all of them hilarious.
mood : repressing laughing really hard at all this bullshit.
2 a.m. : going to bed. not that i can’t stand these people, but yeah, i can’t stand these people. not i’m snob or elitist or anything, but, yeah, i’m snob or elitist or something.
saturday 15. champagne-day.
noon : waking up. it doesn’t change me very much from paris, i must admit. breakfast at the flat that looks now like… errr…like any flat after a party.
around 2 p.m. : moving to have lunch. we take a shortcut to get the stuff of some other members of the crew who’ve been staying in another flat.
3 p.m. : lunch at the miramar beach. it’s darn expensive and darn cool there. except for the people around us. i hate the people in this town. new-rich, vulgar, m’as-tu-vu, with expensive watches and expensive wives, who, i hope, won their lawsuit against their esthetic surgeon. oh, you’re proud of his work actually, my bad.
but why should i complain after all ? the ros? is great, the champagne too, and the food and crew as well…
around 5.30 p.m. : champagne again at the terrasse of the majestic palace, where a bottle of veuve cliquot costs exactly 215 euros. which is probably why the woman who invites us orders two of them.
8 p.m. : we drop by at the carlton again. champagne again. i think i have had enough champagne for a whole year.
talks with the radio people again, meeting M. again, who’s still nice and interesting.
around 9.30 p.m. : crew meeting in a restaurant. we don’t have enough invitations for the mtv party in a villa tonight. only a few of us are going there. not me, oh well…
mood : i wish i was drunk. or i wish some others weren’t, so we’d be at the same wavelength.
midnight : after a few rides in cars and scooters, C. and i land in a restaurant to have dinner. we’re joined by PG, F. n?2, and L. who didn’t have invitations as well and have a drink, which must be why we decide to go anyway to the villa and see if we can manage to get in.
1.30 a.m. : we’ve found the villa, on one of the hills around the city, the view is beautiful. we wait a bit in line, the line of those who don’t have invitations and i’m taken aback that we’re allowed in, because we come from C.H., a guy who must have something to do with mtv for sure.
inside, it’s like in the movies, you know, the movies where there are private parties in huge villas. kinda like that. C. and i didn’t change ourselves, so we just wear jeans and cool t-shirts while every other women wear cocktail dresses and dior shoes. oh well, C. says at a point, at least, we can always find each other in the crowd. i agree and ask some champagne to one of the six open bars.
we go to watch the audio bullys who mix in a room and i lose another third of my hearing.
mood : not for amphetamines and coke, that’s for sure.
4.30 a.m. : end of the party. we leave for our now usual restaurant that’s open 24 hours a day. taking decisions for a group of eight or nine persons is kind of a challenge, C. and i find the time to choose where we should make the “after” too long, and none of the two cars seem available, so we finally walk to the flat around 5. or 5.30. or maybe 5.40. or was it 6 ? errr…can’t remember. yeah, maybe six, after all, because the sun was rising, as a prelude to another beautiful day.
7 a.m. : going to bed that late isn’t a new habit, i swear.
mood : exhausted. content, sort of. disappointed, sort of, too. tired of it all, maybe.
sunday 16. last-day.
11.30 : waking up. my train is at 2 p.m.
2 p.m. : leaving with PG, who warns me he’s going to be a really bad company during the trip, which he proves by sleeping the whole time, but i’m as bad a company myself, because i do exactly the same.
mood : veni, vidi, partie…
