For me, Édith Piaf’s Bravo is like the sound of fingernails being dragged down a blackboard. I would rather listen to the Birdie Song on a loop than ever to have to listen to Bravo again.
So the discovery that there is a Piaf museum in Paris comes as a blow. You see, my partner, Damon, loves her.
Don’t get me wrong, she made some great records – Hymne à l’Amour, La Vie en Rose and Non, Je ne Regrette Rien spring to mind – but a whole museum?
Damon only found out about it thanks to a piece in the new issue of France magazine on hidden hotspots in the French capital. I should have kept it out of his sight. Now, of course, he’d like to go.
The museum is in the performer’s old apartment in the 11th arrondissement. Its current owner has set aside two rooms of his home and filled them with memorabilia. His parents were friends with Piaf and he met the singer as a teenager.
The rooms include numerous gold discs, plus some of Piaf’s outfits and plenty of letters and photographs.
I’m not falling over myself with enthusiasm. That said, if Damon’s wish to visit the museum means another trip to Paris, well, so be it…