DIAMOND BRAND LIFESTYLES: A la recherche de la Louve

I'm searching for the Louve, not the Louvre.

While I'm in Paris, it is not my goal to attend the grande art expositions of the city, but rather to explore its inner reaches for my spirit animal at present.

The animals which inspire me range from The Owl to The Dolphin, but a good middle ground is the Louve- the She-Wolf.

At the table where I eat mon petit dejuener et mon diner, I opened the dictionary. The dictionary is like a cookbook with recipes of comprehension for the kitchen conversations. It bares no attention to the phrases I seek, just the words that make them.

It's morning, I'm alone, I open the dictionary and find her. Of all the words-, Louve. Translation? She-Wolf.

The basis of my study.

Today is February 2nd, La Fete De La Chandeleur. To describe this holiday, my hostess runs into the bedroom and returns with a great golden candlestick. She says it is the tradition on this day to eat Crepes together. I am curious as to the origin of the holiday and wonder if it has any connection to the Mardi Gras and Lenten period nearing us.

In christianity, the holiday is Candlemas. The day when the Virgin is purified. My hostess, after doing her research. She says its a pagan fete, pour le retour de la lumiere. When the light returns, it comes as the sun, le soliel, the great grainy circle symbolised by the crepe. She explains to me how the Catholics had a great period of adaptation, of transforming the Pagan days of reverie into religious ceremonies. The holidays surrounding Lent, or Le Careme, are no exception.

La fete de la Chadleur is my first hint of a faded French carnavale season. I follow the She-Wolf's appearances in my days because she is the natural leader of Winter into Spring. During Lupercalia and Saturnalia, Pagan Celebration of Greek and Roman antiquity falling at the beginning of February, the Mother Wolf was venerated.

She, alongside Pan (our great Goat friend and patron saint of Jitterbug Perfume,) are the central shadow carriers to the tradition of Light worship at the beginning of February. I realise that I will not find the carnival of New Orleans Mardi Gras in Paris. Carnavale here is only the shadow of itself. Children wear masks at school and its cute. But, as I navigate the sphere of La Louve, I plan to find the remnants of a season solidified in time.

Today's holiday is the commencement. It is the purifcation of myself, the fresh female virginal misedomeanor into the candor of French afterthoughts. Time, Place, Culture in the first two decades of the 21st century, inform the cannon of new Traditions.

Here in the Bagnolet neighborhood outlying Paris, where the immigrants come to settle, we prepare for Chinese New Year. L'an Nouveau Chinois falls at the same time range as Mardi Gras and the Lupercalia. This year is the year of the Snake. There is the She-Wolf of these lands, of Old Europe, who approaches the city of Paris through dictionaries and iconography. At this time she is accompanied by candlesticks and chopsticks, snakes and mistakes, masks and geranium plants, store keepers and street walkers, into the returning of the light.