Belle
Otero, the famous courtesan of the Second Empire, successfully demanded from
one of her lovers the priceless long diamond necklace that had once belonged to
the former queen, Marie-Antoinette, we may begin to appreciate the dimensions
of the reversal. Yet exactly how this stunning victory was achieved remains a
mystery.
Some clues are given to us in a story that Colette tells about a conversation
she had while she was still performing in music halls with La Belle Otero.
Thinking the young woman somewhat green, Otero offered her some advice. “
There comes a time,” she said, “with every man when he will open up
his hand to you.”
“But when is that?” Colette asked.
“When you twist his wrist,” Otero replied.
Like many courtesans, Otero was known for her wit. Doubtless, that is why
Colette remembered the dialogue. Indeed, the key we are seeking to the mystery
is less in the content of Otero’s answer than in the way it was given. She
delivered her last line with consummate timing. And looking further at what she
told her young protégée, it becomes quickly evident that the crucial
phrase in her advice is not in the last line but in the first phrase, “
There comes a time.” The secret of her success was that she chose exactly
the right moment to twist her lover’s wrist.
We cannot know, but only surmise, that Otero would have been glad to tell
Colette exactly how to recognize the right moment for doing anything. But those
who have this talent rarely understand themselves how they know what they know.
Rather than a technique that can be analyzed, the ability for good timing must
be the product of a particularly intense relationship with the present. To
speak of having an awareness of the present moment may seem strange, as if such
an awareness should be commonplace. But in fact, since most of us, much of the
time, are focused more on the past or the future than on what is here now, the
ability is unusual.
This uniqueness may explain why courtesans were so often found at the cutting
edge of new sensibilities. While she used time to her own advantage, the
courtesan expanded the terrain of the imagination. Indeed, the fact that so
often whenever culture made a daring turn, breaking old boundaries, flying in
the face of convention, courtesans have been part of that history illustrates
how time moves forward. In contrast to the conventional view, it is less by
aiming yourself in the direction of the future that you will affect the tenor
of your times than by immersing yourself in the present.
How did she develop her unique presence? At this point, we can only guess. But
our guesses are educated. Early deprivation and fear for survival would have
played major roles in the unfolding drama. Traumatic events, losses, and
miseries can make every moment of life seem like a precious substance, not a
drop of which should be missed. At the same time, narrow escapes and fortunate
breaks can loosen the hold that well-laid plans have on the mind, serving to
free events from any narrative plot that is too constricting.
And from this perhaps we can also begin to grasp why, aside from any efficacy,
good timing is so attractive. Though you would not have been able to name the
seemingly ephemeral effect she had of enlarging your consciousness, a
courtesan’s awareness of time might make you long for her in the same way
that a mystic longs for God. Or, if you are devoutly secular, for what is still
nascent in yourself.
Yet, as ephemeral as it may seem, this virtue means far less in the abstract
than it does in the concrete example. So let us proceed, if not methodically,
bit by bit, through many of the simpler expressions of good timing that are
more plainly manifested in the lives of courtesans. This is, after all, hardly
a dreary task. Known as a “good-time girl,” the courtesan had to be
able to make men laugh, which called on comic timing. To dress well, she had to