This picture (above) was taken in Soho. I’d just bought my basket, it was Portuguese. I bought that basket many times. I knew the market was something that Serge [Gainsbourg] liked, so I took him there to get him some clothes. He’d just gotten his jacket — it was a ladies’ jacket in fact. And I was able to put him in old Russian countesses’ jewellery because he looked great in women’s jewellery. The fun thing was to go down the King’s Road with Serge and pick up all his clothes in the antique market.
Back then I had a tiny house on Cheyne Row [in Chelsea] — although not for very long because [my ex-husband] John Barry bought the end of a lease! We had wonderful Christmases there with Serge and [his daughter] Kate and [our daughter] Charlotte when they were tiny. This must have been just after Charlotte was born, so about 50 years ago. It was just a joy. Everyone we ran into was welcome to come for lunch on Christmas Day. We were opposite the Catholic church and it even snowed at midnight, it was so magical.
We used to take the ferry boat because Serge was scared of planes and as soon as we arrived at Victoria Station he said it couldn’t be more exotic for him than London with the black cabs and the red buses and our suitcases full. We knew fun was in store. It was lovely to be with someone who was so enamoured with England.
We weren’t allowed into any of the nightclubs in England because I wasn’t a member — we had all the lovely ones in France but when we arrived in England it was a different story. But never mind, my great friend Gabrielle Crawford’s husband, Michael, knew a few of them and we seemed to have a very good time at Alvaro’s [La Famiglia] and San Lorenzo drinking sambucas late into the night. All the King’s Road was quite the fun patch in those days. Then we’d finish up at the only place I knew would be open, which was where the newspapers were being printed in Fleet Street, and try to seek out some cafés there that would be open. London wasn’t a late place then like it was in Paris.
Serge tried to take my parents to The Ritz for New Year, and the restaurant told him he had to wear a tie. And that was okay because they had a tie. But then they said his jacket had to match his trousers — so in other words he had to have a jean jacket. Anyhow, it wasn’t so. So we left and went to The Connaught, where the chef was French and we were recognised, so it was immediately alright.
In France we were the kings of the town. Serge went to any nightclub, any restaurant and they let you in with your dog, your basket, anything. They’d recognise you on bikes for two from behind because of Serge’s ears and my basket — it wasn’t being well known, it was being well known from behind. So, in England, Serge used to get a bit morose after a few days of not being recognised on the King’s Road. But then someone French would turn up and it would be alright. He always said he’d prefer to be king in his own place than a poor man in another place. He didn’t seem to mind it too much, but it was quite a contrast.
