Why French Women are So Seductive?

What on earth was Carla Bruni-Sarkozy thinking of, bleating in a magazine: "I want everyone to love me, I'm like all humans."

Actually she's not. She's the wife of President Nicolas Sarkozy but, more importantly, she's the French first lady. And French women don't give a damn for popularity. They don't seek it. They certainly don't talk about it. It's private.

Besides, it will make things worse for her husband who split from his second wife, Cecilia, married Bruni three months later and blabbed non-stop. (And now is unpopular beyond his enemies' wildest dreams.) He knew it was bad form to blab. So why did he?

"Because he thought the publicity was good for him," says Debra Ollivier from the safety of her home in California, where her book What French Women Know About Love, Sex and Other Matters of Heart and Mind is causing a frisson among her Francophile pals. What's an American chick doing revealing the secrets of what makes their French idols tick-tock? Quelle horreur!


First, she's married to a Frenchman, lived in Paris for 10 years and has credibility. Second, she's tired of the stereotype image that clothes and cosmetics give French women their allure. It's their approach to life, a mixture of carnal and cerebral, that does it. That old coquette image is wrong, wrong, wrong.

So why are French women still perceived to be a menace? "They have secrets about seduction that we can't grasp and it's scary," says Ollivier. For example, French women know more about giving and receiving pleasure, so they have more guilt-free sex than Aussies. They relish seductive flirtations, expect them, in fact.

"In France it's part of the daily pleasure, whether men and women are interested in each other, or a woman seeing her baker, it's always a pleasure. Flirting is an exchange with a kind of fizz around it; it's not threatening."

That's not all. French women play the field, rather than level it. In other words, they don't change men. They accept their insolences and extravagances, pigheadedness and seductions. (That won't wash with Aussie sheilas.)

There are other shockers to come and Ollivier, with Gallic joie de vivre gets right down to it. French serial and internet dating is a no-no, she says. The natives aren't into sharing. They're jealous.

"But if a French woman wants to sleep with a man first time they go out, she will."

Her editor was horrified but she stuck to her guns."That's the way it is. If they both feel passionate, why not? There's no judgment or guilt in France, it's simple pleasure."

Even more surprising, sex appeal is not the monopoly of pretty French women. Plain Janes are sexy too. "Yes, true. It's not how you tie a scarf that counts, it's what's in the head that wears it."

Smart is the new sexy! Being opinionated is sexy! It's a cerebral turn-on that men enjoy. And, says Ollivier, arguing is a sign of intelligence and passion. Both sexes love to spat, even if they agree.

Marriage, adultery, mistresses, she has jaw-dropping responses to them all. The French don't rush to the altar. Why?

"They have a different point of view. Their culture allows for co-habiting." (France's first woman presidential candidate Segolene Royal was unmarried, with four children. Everyone cheered.) Warning: "I'd never dream of asking a French couple if they are married or not. It would be too gauche. But if you're not faithful, it doesn't mean automatic exclusion." And adultery is OK if it allows someone to preserve their marriage. (It's that nix-to-guilt thing again.)

Mistresses are OK too: a French wife will accept one of many years. "Former president Francois Mitterand comes to mind with his lover Anne Pingeot", which shocked everyone but not the French. "That's life," says the author merrily.

But wives as best friends? When philandering hubbies burble publicly - "My wife is my best friend" (Bill Clinton of Hillary) - is this a goer in France? "Non, non, non. Do that and you become his MOTHER!"

Lastly, every French woman knows silence is sexy: speaking eliminates the desire. To this day Ollivier can't ask her husband about his youthful sexploits.

"French women don't need so much information," he tells her. Surely that grates? "Yes, but it's the custom." Flip-side, her lips are zipped.

"But with women, men don't want to know."