Sister Rose was telling me yesterday about one of her teachers at the Alliance Francaise who shook her head and complained - 'these Spanish girls, they just come here with their breasts hanging out.' Last night at the Fête de Musique (about which, more later) we walked behind three young women. They all had low cut, revealing dresses and particularly large round bums, which swayed in unison... to the left, then to the right, then to the left... as they walked in step down the street.
Sister Rose and I looked at each other in a moment of perfect understanding and hurried to hear them speak. Indeed, they were speaking Spanish - 'The Espagnolettes,' as Rose calls them.
I wish we could have made a short film, instead of this blurry picture. Heureusment pour vous, the poor quality of the picture spares you the certain knowledge (which Rose and I will take to our graves) of the color, shape and position of lace appliques on their thongs.
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