Sexual Fantasies in the ABC Cellar with Jim Clendenen Related stories:īurgundy's Spiraling Prices: Fact and Fiction The world of wine was an obvious idea, as a job as a bilingual night receptionist in a Beaune hotel was not appealing. When my marriage was unraveling in the mid-1970s, I needed to find work. I was a baby existentialist who had wandered around New York dressed in black and carrying a Camus novel, hoping someone would notice. I loved everything French – art, music, literature, food, wine. People regarded us with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. As the artist’s wife, I kept the wine glasses sparkling and had the pleasure of getting to know certain winemakers quite well. We lived in Philadelphia but rather than move to New York, the center of the art world in 1968, he decided we should move to France. My former husband, Bart Wasserman, was an artist. My family did not generally drink wine – it was the cocktail and highball era – but the Champagne was Lanson’s and, for women, a dry sherry. I grew up in Manhattan, where I went to the Rudolph Steiner School. © Le Serbet | Becky Wasserman-Hone catches up with Maryse and Sylvain Pataille
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