Woodstock 69! It is by evoking the bands of today where a handful of young people, joyfully mix to "have fun" by playing the hammer or the screwdriver or illuminate their parties of fireworks, that we evoked, Marie-Charlotte and me, yesterday evening, our 69, I dare to say it, without it being useful to punctuate by the subject by a smiley winking of the eye in Woodstock, where a small party dedicated to music that was supposed to gather fifty thousand people gathered four hundred thousand of them without any of them feeling the need to come with tools, except for a few owners of VW mini-buses with psychedelic colors and the most tired mechanics. Indeed, some of them had not forgotten to take cigarette paper and a lighter and those who had no more Camels, Lucky Strike or Marlboro took their revenge on the lawn.
Woodstock where, if ladies and young ladies had had the idea of complaining, after having abused them without restraint, about the moments when one should forget everything by spreading one's toes and calling one's mother, lulled by the voices of Jane Birkin and Gainsbourg who celebrated in a song the eroticism of the year; it would have been necessary to mobilize the sheriffs of the province, the FBI, the CIA and perhaps even the army so that all the complaints could be recorded. And yesterday, Marie-Charlotte, my Hippie, hippie pip, hurray!
As they used to say at Dior in 2018 and on TV in '69 to describe Woodstock, told me that last Saturday, after the curfew had sounded, she found herself as in the days of the party with the last, empty pack of Marlboros in her carpeted apartment in Le Chesnay, and that she was craving a smoke. Later that night, she dreamed of a Chinese terracotta man leaving the ranks of his army and going out into the streets of Xi'an to walk a shell he was holding on a leash, while she, lightly dressed, equipped with a spaghetti gauge, sorted by size the attributes of her friends with whom, in the month of May in '68, she was clearing the cobblestones of the Boulevard Saint Michel in search of a beach that turned out not to be there.
And, as a soundtrack to her dream, Woodstock was part of the party, on her Saturday night, with Jimi Hendrix, The Who, Joan Baez, Janis Joplin, Joe Cocker and many others... to enliven it. This picture is for you Marie-Charlotte! You are always so ravishing my Marie-Charlotte and I like with you to relive this year. But we are not 20 anymore, so buy cigarettes... in packs and keep a couple of ten-pack cartons in reserve! Even if it will upset our apprentice fireworkers in their cities!
