On the eve of the 1965 French presidential election, the Observer Magazine (28 November 1965) headed across the Channel for a special edition on the cultural and social phenomenon of Young France: what had changed now ‘one Frenchman in three is under 20’?
Adolescent revolt in France was judged ‘surprisingly docile’ and French teens were ‘on the whole harmless. They do not bother with strong drink. Their fads are far less outlandish than the exotic hairstyles and far-out clothes of their British counterparts.’ Yet the student-led revolt of May 68 would hit France like a Molotov cocktail chucked over a barricade only three years later.
Then as now, Gallic fashion skewed classic, not subversive. Glossy-haired girls were photographed in ‘English tweed and Shetland’ and neatly buttoned wool coats. The boys ‘hanker… after Anglo-Italian elegance’ and, sweetly, a recent craze for umbrellas had ‘boosted production of black brollies’.
A report on the antics and exceptionalism of the gilded youth of the Ecole Polytechnique, the Oxford PPE of French life, has shades of the Bullingdon. Thankfully, le rock’n’roll was injecting a soupçon of sex and danger into Gallic life. French teens (‘Les Yé-yé as the adults call them, half contemptuously, half enviously’) were grooving to the Beatles, Stones and Dylan like their UK counterparts but, of course, Johnny Halliday got a mention. ‘President de Gaulle has listened to Johnny Halliday at least once. He is reported to have remarked with approval: “It’s noisy, like an army band.”’
A dictionary of French teen slang also helpfully provided key phrases to be with it (dans le coup): ‘Ca chauffe: the rhythm is hot’, ‘Ca a fait tilt: we hit it off’ and ‘Smart: smart.’
Three weeks later, de Gaulle, then aged 75, won the election. The French youthquake wasn’t a done deal quite yet.
