Beautiful - Ugly

The other day I came across a French expression that was completely new to me: jolie-laide or belle-laide. These are two variations of the same concept, which, when literally translated, mean pretty-ugly and beautiful-ugly, respectively. According to the New York Times article The Unfairest of Them All (Daphne Merkin, 2005) that was my initial point of contact, this expression refers to an idea of feminine beauty that goes beyond both classical standards and cultural conceptions. Such an abstraction is difficult to pin down, as you might imagine, but the article's author writes in terms such as "the aesthetic pleasure of the visually off kilter," and a "triumph of personality over physiognomy." Such expressions seem to point to the fact that one who is belle-laide has either a certain irregularity of physical features, or some force of spirit, or possibly both, that sets her apart from the "merely" pretty.

Intrigued, I decided to do a bit of research, starting with a simple definition lookup. The results ranged from "a woman whose face is attractive despite having ugly features" (Oxford Dictionary, ouch!), to "a woman who is attractive though not conventionally pretty" (Merriam Webster), to "a woman oddly attractive, though not conventionally beautiful" (New World Dictionary, don't you just love the use of oddly here?). 

Unsatisfied, I looked for uses of it in other sources. Interestingly, all of the instances I found were non-French sources referencing this supposedly French attitude. In the 1928 German essay, Sex Appeal: A New Catchword for an Old Thing, the author references the expression, giving the [French] vernacular meaning as, "not pretty, something more than that." The article goes on to say that ultimately this "something" is reducible to sex appeal, but this is posited as the author's opinion rather than the French understanding. Going back further, the expression appears in a story published in the December 1888 - May 1889 edition (Volume 78) of Harper's New Monthly Magazine. The author uses it to describe a woman thus, "this little mother was not in the least pretty in the English or American sense, but she had a face full of deep feeling and fine character - a kind of face in French studios known as une belle laide." He goes on to describe her face as "beautifully plain." Both of these instances help flesh out an elusive concept, but at first, I was a little disappointed I didn't hear it from the horse's mouth.

Upon some reflection, my inability to find direct French references isn't a discouragement or proof of anything. It is more likely a sign of my linguistic deficiencies than anything else. Even without such references, the fact remains that the French language is the etymological source of the expression, and that the concept is un-translatable into the English language. I think of the word chic in much the same way; I'm not sure that the French go on about it the way we English speakers do, yet it is unquestionably Gallic. And even if contemporary French speakers don't use the words, looking as far as modern era French celebrities (à la Loulou de la Falaise, Jane Birkin, and Charlotte Gainsbourg, to name just a few) will evidence that their essence remains.

So what is the conclusion of all this chatter about words and expressions, and why do I care so much? The conclusion is that an entire culture has for years embraced an idea of beauty that goes beyond the idea of perfect proportion. It has enthusiastically expanded the rubric of beauty to include the wonderfully unusual and that which is irreducible to the purely physical. And you know what? This fact gladdens my heart; these types of beauty should be recognized because they are real. And, if  women have permission to believe that they are beautiful, it truly changes everything. I've been to France a couple of times, and French women are attractive, yes, and stylish, yes, but the mystique and appeal that they wield as a whole isn't located in [dare I say] mere perfection of proportion. They believe in their beauty, and so convince the rest of us. We should take a lesson.

Loulou de la Falaise, longtime muse of Yves Saint Laurent

Jane Birkin (London born actress turned French cinema star)

and her daughter, Charlotte Gainsbourg, French actress