French Fashions matter in France in an exact correlation to how far you live from centres of political and social life – that is, life as reported in national newspapers. So how does French outfits and clothing affect a French woman?

Thus in Paris,  La Baule, or the Ile de Re, the French Outfits and clothing are important and it will matter that you are seen with a last year’s ‘must have’ bag from a major fashion house, whereas out here in the sticks while we do have the idea of a ’signature’ bag it is not the sort of thing carried by Mrs. Cameron, but  the plastic ‘eco’ bag from the supermarket….forget Gucci, think Leclerc.

The clothing seen on the catwalks does not penetrate the fastnesses of La France Profonde, where the owners of the small town boutiques know exactly what their customers want – a nice neat suit to be seen in when shopping - while those who can’t afford the astronomical prices in the small boutiques have to rely on the supermarkets, the chains like Defi Mode, whose name has ominous overtones to the anglophone ear, and the ever present travelling van from Barbe Bleu, purveyors of polyester to the populace.

Not that taste is static.  A wedding is the place to observe what is ‘trending’ in St. Supplice.

First, if she is wearing a hat, whether Queen Mum at Ascot, upturned flower pot in tulle or fascinator, she is British.

No rural Frenchwoman is going to spend a fortune at the hairdresser and then cover the results with a hat. Surveying the ranks of red shingled hair, ladies with a different shade or with a different cut must be from ‘foreign parts’,  like the next department, while the odd element that fancies the Segolene Royal cum Carla Bruni  option – the hamster cheeks between two wet spaniel’s ears -  indicates ladies who feel themselves to be above the common run of local mortals and who have access to an out of  area hairdresser.

They are also more likely to be wearing neat little suits with the jacket daring left undone to reveal the blouse and obligatory chain and pendant, while the more sedate will be wearing  either Defi Mode chiffon or Barbe Bleu polyester in shades of orange or purple. I feel that the designers of these ranges should nip out and take a look at the hair colouring used by country hairdressers before they choose the palette of colours for next year…this year’s range calls for sunglasses at fifty yards. Colours that go with bright red hair and the rosy hue of cheeks after drink has been taken would prove a better bet, in my view.

In my first days in France, I can remember occasional glimpses of black clad grannies wearing the local ‘coiffe’ – the head dress which varied from area to area and which now only really survives in the ones the Breton ladies wear on high days and holidays, towering efforts of starch and lace. The one I remember was more like an old fashioned nurses’ cap, with a high front and wings at the back, but its’ day has long gone. The counterparts of those grannies now strut their stuff in heels, shiny tight skirts and a decollete that gets the old boys into a lather.

And that, I begin to think, is another example of the difference between Paris and the provinces.

Paris fashion sends a message that the wearer can afford to buy something outrageously expensive – or, more likely, that she is part of the internecine world where each lives off the other – you lend me a dress to wear to some event where the society photographers will be present so it’s good publicity for you and good for my image - the modern day equivalent of the French aristocratic refugees in London after the Revolution, keeping up appearances by taking in each others’ washing.

Local fashion aims to please the observer. Just read ‘Clochemerle’ for back up for this assertion…the efforts made by the local ladies to astound their audience when going to church on the saint’s day….nothing much changes in rural France.

One British wedding guest removed her fascinator during the dancing and left it on the table where it was the object of awed interest on the part of a number of elderly gentlemen. One finally delivered the jury’s verdict.

‘You’d think you’d keep something like that to yourself, wouldn’t you, not go parading it in public!’

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