Interview with Brigitte Bardot
In 1969 Brigitte Bardot became the first French woman to symbolise “Marianne”, the figurehead of the French Republic. Following her retirement from the cinema, she became a leading spokesperson for animal rights. In 2001 she received the US Peta Humanitarian Award.
You were born in Paris in 1934.
Maman gave birth to me in her apartment in Place Violet in the 15th arrondissement. I don’t have any memories of that home – we moved when I was only a few months old.
Where to?
A large 5th-floor apartment in the Avenue de la Bourdonnais near the Champ de Mars and the Eiffel Tower. It was a fine building of dressed stone with wrought-iron balconies overlooking the avenue, parquet flooring in all the rooms, white walls with cornices, period furniture. When my sister Marie Jeanne was born there in 1938 I went to stay with my grandparents, who had a lovely apartment with Louis XV furniture in the Rue Raynouard in the 16th arrondissement. Mijanou – that was her nickname, mine was Bribri – and I always shared the same room. We didn’t have pets; that wasn’t my parents’ style. When Papa went to war my sister, mother and I moved into two furnished rooms in a house in Dinard [north Brittany]. I don’t have any particular memories of it – I was five. We returned some time later to our Paris apartment.
And then?
We moved to the Rue de la Pompe in the 16th arrondissement – a sublime, huge, apartment with fireplaces in every room and a balcony all round overlooking the Place de la Muette. I spent my childhood and teenage years there. I’ve one terrible memory of that apartment. My parents had gone out and left my sister and me with the maid. While playing, we broke a Chinese vase that Maman was very fond of. The maid was dismissed and Mijanou and I were whipped by Papa. But Maman’s punishment was the worst – she insisted that we address them as vous from that day on, as if we were strangers. I was seven, Mijanou was four. Much later, when Papa died in 1975, Maman gave me permission to use tu again. I refused.
And holidays?
We spent holidays at Grandmother Bardot’s house at Louveciennes, 20km from Paris. It was a large six-room Norwegian chalet, all in white wood, walls and floor, in a park with 100-year-old trees. Mijanou – she owns it now – and I shared the same room with my friend Chantal, who came for the holidays.
You married director Roger Vadim in 1952. Where were you living when you made ‘And God Created Woman’?
Vadim, me and Clown, a magnificent black cocker spaniel he’d given me, settled into a small apartment with sitting room and bedroom in the Rue Chardon Lagache in Paris, bought by Papa. In 1956 the film Et Dieu créa la femme was a hit worldwide, catapulting me from actress to star. I decided to buy a terraced apartment on the top two floors of a building in the Avenue Paul Doumer in the 16th arrondissement, right by the Trocadéro. Because I love log fires, I had a fireplace installed. They had to drill through the ceiling for the duct. I was happy – it was the very first home of my own. I was 22. I stayed there for 15 years.
In 1959 you married French actor Jacques Charrier.
My home sweet home quickly turned into a golden cage. I was besieged by the press. I couldn’t step out on to my terrace. I lived with all the curtains closed so that photographers hidden in the buildings opposite couldn’t invade my privacy with their telephoto lenses. I couldn’t even get to the maternity ward – more than 100 journalists were camping out on the ground floor of my building, blocking the two exits. I gave birth to my son, Nicolas, at home in January 1960.
When did you first see La Madrague?
On May 15 1958 Maman telephoned to say there was a house for sale in Saint Tropez, right on the water. There was a lot of interest so I had to make up my mind fast. I immediately took the train and discovered La Madrague, a little paradise buried among vegetation and flowers with the sea virtually coming into the drawing room. The following day, for better or worse, I signed on the dotted line to buy this treasure. I still live here today. At the time, comfort at La Madrague was limited, to say the least. There wasn’t even running water. We had to pump up water from a well. I might not like ostentatious shows of luxury but I do like my comfort, so I threw myself into major building works. I built a swimming pool and, sadly, two large walls each side of the property extending 10 metres out into the sea to protect me from invaders who thought nothing of coming right into my sitting room.
And now?
During the summer, cruise boats sail past my windows, every half an hour, morning to night, crammed with tourists listening to La Madrague’s history in five languages. On the path running alongside my property there’s a constant procession of curious people who ring at the gate to see me. That’s the downside.
Do you have a favourite room?
My bedroom. I love to stretch out on the bed in the evening to read, do crosswords, call my friends or settle down at my desk to reply to all the letters I receive. Through the bay window I can see the stunning sunsets over the sea, the billowing waves on stormy days and, in the distance, the other side of the bay, the small Saint Tropez sailors’ cemetery where my parents are buried. Like the other rooms, there are old beams, the walls are white and covered with books and photographs.
Where did you live with Gunter Sachs?
When I married Gunter in 1966 I left my apartment in the Avenue Paul Doumer for his rather-too-luxurious one in the Avenue Foch. It was huge with fake marble, a fake fireplace, fake fire and a view over one of the loveliest and most famous avenues in Paris. On the walls were Arman’s smashed violins, canvases and sculptures from Dalí, Léonor Fini, Bacon, Magritte, Klein, Picasso, César ... and lots of photographs of Gunter’s magnificent female conquests. My sojourn was brief. I returned to the Avenue Paul Doumer. But he’s remained a faithful friend.
You retired in 1973.
I was tired of the pretence, the stress, the glitter. I decided to quit the cinema and dedicate myself exclusively to animal welfare. The transition was difficult. Many people thought it was just a star’s caprice. But I never went back on my decision. In 1986 I created my foundation. From small beginnings – a little bedroom at La Madrague converted into an office, a part-time secretary – it is today recognised to be of public benefit by the French Council of State. It has 60,000 members in more than 30 countries and employs 50 people full time. It’s my greatest success.
Where do your animals live?
I have another property near Saint Tropez called La Garrigue – four hectares overlooking a small sandy beach among the rocks. I’ve built three houses: mine, which looks like a hacienda, the caretaker’s and La Capucine, with a pool, for friends. Every afternoon I swap the bustle of La Madrague for the tranquillity of La Garrigue, where a hundred or so animals that I’ve saved from slaughter live: cats, horses, donkeys, goats, pigs, hens, ducks.
And your dream home?
Despite the activity surrounding La Madrague, it remains my house, where I hope eventually to be buried. I live here quietly with my companion, Bernard d’Ormale. I have few visitors – I’m a loner and can count my real friends on the fingers of one hand. We dine on simple vegetarian fare – salads, fricassée of vegetables in olive oil – at the big kitchen table or, in summer, on the terrace by the light of oil lamps.
***
You were born in Paris in 1934.
Maman gave birth to me in her apartment in Place Violet in the 15th arrondissement. I don’t have any memories of that home – we moved when I was only a few months old.
Where to?
A large 5th-floor apartment in the Avenue de la Bourdonnais near the Champ de Mars and the Eiffel Tower. It was a fine building of dressed stone with wrought-iron balconies overlooking the avenue, parquet flooring in all the rooms, white walls with cornices, period furniture. When my sister Marie Jeanne was born there in 1938 I went to stay with my grandparents, who had a lovely apartment with Louis XV furniture in the Rue Raynouard in the 16th arrondissement. Mijanou – that was her nickname, mine was Bribri – and I always shared the same room. We didn’t have pets; that wasn’t my parents’ style. When Papa went to war my sister, mother and I moved into two furnished rooms in a house in Dinard [north Brittany]. I don’t have any particular memories of it – I was five. We returned some time later to our Paris apartment.
And then?
We moved to the Rue de la Pompe in the 16th arrondissement – a sublime, huge, apartment with fireplaces in every room and a balcony all round overlooking the Place de la Muette. I spent my childhood and teenage years there. I’ve one terrible memory of that apartment. My parents had gone out and left my sister and me with the maid. While playing, we broke a Chinese vase that Maman was very fond of. The maid was dismissed and Mijanou and I were whipped by Papa. But Maman’s punishment was the worst – she insisted that we address them as vous from that day on, as if we were strangers. I was seven, Mijanou was four. Much later, when Papa died in 1975, Maman gave me permission to use tu again. I refused.
And holidays?
We spent holidays at Grandmother Bardot’s house at Louveciennes, 20km from Paris. It was a large six-room Norwegian chalet, all in white wood, walls and floor, in a park with 100-year-old trees. Mijanou – she owns it now – and I shared the same room with my friend Chantal, who came for the holidays.
You married director Roger Vadim in 1952. Where were you living when you made ‘And God Created Woman’?
Vadim, me and Clown, a magnificent black cocker spaniel he’d given me, settled into a small apartment with sitting room and bedroom in the Rue Chardon Lagache in Paris, bought by Papa. In 1956 the film Et Dieu créa la femme was a hit worldwide, catapulting me from actress to star. I decided to buy a terraced apartment on the top two floors of a building in the Avenue Paul Doumer in the 16th arrondissement, right by the Trocadéro. Because I love log fires, I had a fireplace installed. They had to drill through the ceiling for the duct. I was happy – it was the very first home of my own. I was 22. I stayed there for 15 years.
In 1959 you married French actor Jacques Charrier.
My home sweet home quickly turned into a golden cage. I was besieged by the press. I couldn’t step out on to my terrace. I lived with all the curtains closed so that photographers hidden in the buildings opposite couldn’t invade my privacy with their telephoto lenses. I couldn’t even get to the maternity ward – more than 100 journalists were camping out on the ground floor of my building, blocking the two exits. I gave birth to my son, Nicolas, at home in January 1960.
When did you first see La Madrague?
On May 15 1958 Maman telephoned to say there was a house for sale in Saint Tropez, right on the water. There was a lot of interest so I had to make up my mind fast. I immediately took the train and discovered La Madrague, a little paradise buried among vegetation and flowers with the sea virtually coming into the drawing room. The following day, for better or worse, I signed on the dotted line to buy this treasure. I still live here today. At the time, comfort at La Madrague was limited, to say the least. There wasn’t even running water. We had to pump up water from a well. I might not like ostentatious shows of luxury but I do like my comfort, so I threw myself into major building works. I built a swimming pool and, sadly, two large walls each side of the property extending 10 metres out into the sea to protect me from invaders who thought nothing of coming right into my sitting room.
And now?
During the summer, cruise boats sail past my windows, every half an hour, morning to night, crammed with tourists listening to La Madrague’s history in five languages. On the path running alongside my property there’s a constant procession of curious people who ring at the gate to see me. That’s the downside.
Do you have a favourite room?
My bedroom. I love to stretch out on the bed in the evening to read, do crosswords, call my friends or settle down at my desk to reply to all the letters I receive. Through the bay window I can see the stunning sunsets over the sea, the billowing waves on stormy days and, in the distance, the other side of the bay, the small Saint Tropez sailors’ cemetery where my parents are buried. Like the other rooms, there are old beams, the walls are white and covered with books and photographs.
Where did you live with Gunter Sachs?
When I married Gunter in 1966 I left my apartment in the Avenue Paul Doumer for his rather-too-luxurious one in the Avenue Foch. It was huge with fake marble, a fake fireplace, fake fire and a view over one of the loveliest and most famous avenues in Paris. On the walls were Arman’s smashed violins, canvases and sculptures from Dalí, Léonor Fini, Bacon, Magritte, Klein, Picasso, César ... and lots of photographs of Gunter’s magnificent female conquests. My sojourn was brief. I returned to the Avenue Paul Doumer. But he’s remained a faithful friend.
You retired in 1973.
I was tired of the pretence, the stress, the glitter. I decided to quit the cinema and dedicate myself exclusively to animal welfare. The transition was difficult. Many people thought it was just a star’s caprice. But I never went back on my decision. In 1986 I created my foundation. From small beginnings – a little bedroom at La Madrague converted into an office, a part-time secretary – it is today recognised to be of public benefit by the French Council of State. It has 60,000 members in more than 30 countries and employs 50 people full time. It’s my greatest success.
Where do your animals live?
I have another property near Saint Tropez called La Garrigue – four hectares overlooking a small sandy beach among the rocks. I’ve built three houses: mine, which looks like a hacienda, the caretaker’s and La Capucine, with a pool, for friends. Every afternoon I swap the bustle of La Madrague for the tranquillity of La Garrigue, where a hundred or so animals that I’ve saved from slaughter live: cats, horses, donkeys, goats, pigs, hens, ducks.
And your dream home?
Despite the activity surrounding La Madrague, it remains my house, where I hope eventually to be buried. I live here quietly with my companion, Bernard d’Ormale. I have few visitors – I’m a loner and can count my real friends on the fingers of one hand. We dine on simple vegetarian fare – salads, fricassée of vegetables in olive oil – at the big kitchen table or, in summer, on the terrace by the light of oil lamps.
***
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