Authors Note : The story is happening in Paris of the early 1970s and is based on real facts. At the time Portugal was still a very poor country and not a member of the European Union. Lots of poor girls and married women were coming from there to work in France as factory workers, cleaners and maids. Many of those girls were working as live in maids in many Parisian bourgeois houses or apartments. If they were working in apartments they had there own separate rooms at the top of the building, usually in the 6th floor, at what was called 'la chambre de bonne' (maid's room). Of course there was no elevator in those buildings of the late 19th century and the maids were going down from the back service stairs to the kitchen door of the apartment they were working. They were not allowed to use the font entrance of the building even when they were out of uniform and not on duty. For them there was the back or side service entrance to come and go, the same way that the garbage was coming down as well. All those apartment buildings had there own live in concierge who had a little place to stay either by the entrance or in the basement. The concierge was usually the 'terror' of all live-in maids because she was checking on them all the time, reporting back to their employers.

So the term Portuguese maid/housekeeper or 'femme de menage Portugaise' was synonymous to a poor backward peasant girl or woman often illiterate, coming form the rural areas of Portugal to work in the sophisticated Paris. The rich bourgeois Parisians had the tendency of course to look down on them.

At the time they were lots of specialised shops in those rich Parisian suburbs, selling 'domestic work wear' for those in live in service. Those shops were called 'boutiques de blouses et tabliers' (overalls and aprons shops).

In today's Paris, as elsewhere in the Western world live-in maids are a rarity. Portuguese women are rich and elegant and go to Paris for their shopping and the 'blouses et tabliers boutiques' are nearly gone.

 

The Domestication Of A Parisian Bourgeois

by Monica Graz

 

CHAPTER 3

"Come Maria, we have work to do!" Angelita pushed me out of bed in a firm but not unkind manner. "But first I am going to lend you some clothes. Your new Patronne Violetta wants you to look exactly like a Portuguese cleaning woman and we can't disappoint her, can we?"

I had such a wonderful love session with her that I couldn't refuse anything and after the entire whole situation started to intrigue me both mentally and erotically.

Soon I was sitting in a kitchen chair with a not too clean tea towel over my shoulders and Angelita was working on my hair like a very competent hairdresser. I was dressed like her twin sister! Black voluminous cotton knickers, or panties if you prefer, and a matching bra, over my flat chest mind you, an old full slip that has seen better days, an equally old black rayon skirt and thick black stockings that I had to hold with elastic garters just above the knee. On top I was wearing an old but clean nylon smock or overall (une blouse nylon) that had a pattern of dark red flowers over a light blue background. The smock buttoned in front, had long sleeves and was coming an inch or two above my skirt hem. Finally a pair of cheap plastic sandals were adorning my feet. What a sight!

She cut my longish blond hair and layered it in a more feminine manner, then dyed it in a dark brown colour and treated it with a special liquid. Expertly and quickly she put rollers of various sizes. Finally she covered them with a scarf in order to let it dry and set. Obviously I was having a sort of homemade perm! She made a point of placing the scarf in my head in a special manner 'style a la Portuguaise' as she said. I was witnessing for the last few hours a shocking transformation. Only this morning I was a blond elegantly dressed Parisian bourgeois and now a few hours later, a peasant looking woman dressed in the clothes of a shabby looking 'femme de menage' was standing in front of the hallway mirror in Angelita's minuscule apartment. Peculiarly enough I was content in my present position.

"Before work we have to eat something, you must be starving and I am too" said Angelita with feeling. And she continued, "Go and do the dishes and then set the table. I'll finish the cooking. Here, put this apron on". She picked from a hook an old and dirty looking apron and threw it to me. It was a faded blue full apron in a striped cotton material that also had seen better days. Without protest I tied it around my waist and then I adjusted the bib straps that crossed in the back and buttoned in the apron strings. The picture of the cleaning woman was now complete.

I asked for a pair of rubber gloves to protect my hands but she refused them in a rather cross manner. "Violetta thinks that your hands are too soft and need a bit of housework training. In fact she asked to me not to give you any glove protection for later when you will be cleaning the public stairs of this building. I am afraid that in your new station in life soft bourgeois hands are not acceptable, 'allez au boulot Maria" the last sentence meaning something of the type 'come on we haven't all day Maria!'

We had a hearty meal accompanied by some red wine. We were chatting and giggling like two schoolgirls. At one point Angelita got more serious and said to me, "I know that Violetta will be able to change you physically, it is already happening, but you have to try and change the way you speak. You speak too correctly, too properly if you know what I mean. You have to develop a coarser way of speaking, to make mistakes, and use more vulgar words, try and copy my way of speaking. You have to sound uneducated like me that I wasn't even able to finish the primary school." She stopped and looked at me as she was sipping some of her wine and then continued, "For instance when you speak of Violetta you can't use her first name anymore, you should refer to her always as 'Madame', she is your employer now. I know you will be able to do it if you try. Then we will become true friends." She said the last phrase in an intimate manner insinuating all sorts of future amorous adventures or at least this is the way I imagined it.

I decided to drop my small secret bomb. I started talking Portuguese to her, "I agree with you Angelita but probably I would sound more authentic at least to French people if I speak Portuguese. Then they will accept me more as what I appear to be at the moment!"

She opened her mouth in astonishment, "Wow, how on earth can you speak Portuguese, Violetta didn't mention anything to me?"

I looked at her in a conspiratorial way and continued in the somewhat childish Portuguese I was speaking: "I never mentioned it to Viol.... I mean Madame, you see until this morning I never came close enough to her. She was mostly dealing with my wife." I stopped this time for a sip of my wine and continued, " You see I spent 4 years in Portugal as a teenager, my father was the French ambassador there and I went to a French school in Lisbon but we had to learn Portuguese as a second language and of course I had quite a few local friends. I know that at the moment it sounds a bit spastic the way I speak, but with a bit of practice everything will come back."

She looked at me still astonished but she recovered quickly and said always in Portuguese, "Well my dear Maria, this little revelation of yours makes things a lot easier for the transition to your new status in life. Wait till Violetta hears the news, she will be thrilled!" She said that last phrase with an emphasis that took me by surprise. I don't know why, but I was thinking more and more that my whole transformation as it started in the morning and continued in great leaps was not as spontaneous as it appeared to be. Was something behind the whole story that I didn't know? But did I really care? I decided that at the moment I was enjoying what I was doing and I couldn't care less if there was a dark conspiracy behind it.

Angelita interrupted my thoughts, "Come on Maria, let's clear the table, then you can do the dishes and tidy up the kitchen. We have to rush now, you still have a lot of work to do out in that staircase."

 

CHAPTER 4

"You will find everything you need under the stairs, right outside my apartment door". Angelita dragged me out of her apartment, I followed reluctantly I must say. After all, this was going to be my first public appearance as a 'femme de menage'. I was still wearing the clothes she made me wear before, including the nylon overall and the cotton apron. My newly cut and dyed hair was still in rollers and the scarf was modestly covering my head and half of my face. In fact that made me feel more 'undetectable' if this is the right word.

Angelita was addressing me now in a firmer tone of voice, "You pick from under the stairs, broom, dustpan, rubbish bag and dusters. For mopping the landings and stairs you will use this metal bucket. Inside you will find the mop and the cleaning material. Every second floor there is a tap for filling your bucket with clean water. You clean also the windows between floors and you dust carefully the wooden railings. 'Allez, au boulot Maria'".

Without any other word she turned abruptly and went inside the apartment. I was on my own now in a public entrance of a huge building. I managed with some difficulty to pick up all the material and the household utensils as instructed and I started climbing the stairs. My overall and apron pockets proved to be very useful, I managed to squeeze in the dusters, bags and cleaning material. As I was climbing struggling to carry everything without dropping them on the way I realized how any 'class' or 'style' you have as a human being is lost as you try to cope with serious manual work. I was halfway up when I heard voices and the familiar sound of heels on the stairs. From the sound and accent I understood that two bourgeois ladies where coming down the stairs. I stopped on the next landing and made space for them. They were elegantly dressed and a strong channel No. 5 perfume filled my nostrils. They completely ignored me as I was standing in a corner of the landing, but I heard them talking to each other as they overtook me, thinking that I wasn't able to understand a word of what they were saying. "I haven't seen her before" one lady said. "Probably she is one of Angelita's cronies, you know how she picks them when they arrive from Portugal."

"Yes", the other lady agreed, "This one seems as if she just arrived and she gets the 'staircase treatment' from Angelita, probably in exchange for getting her hair done, I saw the curlers under the scarf". "No doubt that soon she will be working as a live in maid in the neighbourhood, you know how well Angelita operates her unofficial domestic agency and how...".

By that stage I lost the sound of their voices; they were too far down the stairs. But it intrigued me once more what I heard. My feeling that a sort of 'organized plan' concerning me was in full development was even stronger now. But again my inner reaction was the same. I didn't want to stop now. What would have been the alternative? Simply sitting at home feeling depressed and miserable for the loss of my wife.

Finally I arrived exhausted on the sixth floor. I deposited all I carried in a corner and I filled the bucket with water, rinsing the mop several times. It was badly washed the last time it was used. The water was cold and was picking at my hands that I wiped hastily in my apron. Soon I was about to learn that the apron was going to become one of my most useful 'tools' in my new position as a cleaner/maid. Also it was going to become the symbol of my new station in life.

I started sweeping first and then, as any 'femme de menage' I went down to my knees and I started washing the floor with the mop, pushing the bucket forwards as I was moving. My knees were hurting and gradually I started discovering the most comfortable kneeling position without thinking how I looked. I was becoming more vulgar in my movements and positions by the minute. At that moment I heard Violetta's voice behind my back, " I love the way you display your knickers to the world Maria!"

Always on my knees I turned to face her, feeling all red and sweaty. She was even more transformed now. She had been to the hairdresser herself, because her hair was styled in a very fashionable 'bourgeois lady' manner. Her grey suit and high heel sandals (my wife's elegant clothes) made her look like a fashion magazine model. Next to her I felt like I was coming from another world, down to my knees, wearing the old and used overall and apron. I could smell her delicate expensive perfume. I was wondering what she could smell of me. A combination of sweat and cleaning material perhaps?

She started talking like 'une vrai patronne', the real boss she was now, "I have too many things to tell you," she said. I started getting up from my kneeling position. She stopped me with her hand, "You just stay as you are and simply listen. You finish under Angelita's orders the cleaning of the staircase of this building. I give you an appointment to meet me at 16.30 hours exactly at the shop 'Blouses et Tabliers' Ave. Victor Hugo No. 145, not at all far from here, in order to choose your new working clothes. Tonight you officially start your new career in service. I invited some people over and you are going to be dressed in a proper maid's uniform to serve them. Tomorrow you are replacing me for the Orly Airport cleaning.

I arranged with the cleaning van, they will pick you from the train station at 5.00 AM. I gave my locker key to Ginette, a colleague of mine who knows everything about you. You will find the uniform to wear in my locker and Ginette will explain everything to you."

I was full of shame but excited also as I was keeping my head up to look at her from my uncomfortable kneeling position. She continued totally undisturbed, " I think that within the next five days you will know and understand everything about your new position in life, your new uniforms, your new friends and colleagues, your new working environment."

She stopped and looked at me more critically this time, "I left with Angelita some breast forms for you, you need some improvement in your bosom, and she will fix your hair and help you with make up; you will certainly look more feminine when we meet again."

She turned to go as abruptly as she appeared. The last moment she remembered something because she said to me in Portuguese this time, "I hear form Angelita that you can speak Portuguese fairly well. This is a pleasant surprise to me because lots of the future procedures, in order to secure your new status and position in life, will be now simplified. For instance when you meet me at the 'Blouses et Tabliers' boutique I'll talk only Portuguese to you and you will be answering very briefly with a yes Madame or no Madame. I'll explain to the sales girls that you are a new arrival and your French is practically non existent."

This time she went with a brief, "See you shortly Maria".

 

CHAPTER 5

The time is 16.45, the place 145 Avenue Victor Hugo. I wait, as instructed, in front of the working clothes boutique for over 20 minutes now. I feel somehow less vulnerable than before. Angelita worked very cleverly on my hair and make up. Brown curly hair, simple to maintain and make up on the 'cheap vulgar side'. Of course I am very shabbily dressed and I look 'poverty stricken'.

Violetta finally arrives driving my car; she leaves the car in front of the shop and the parking attendant rushes to collect it. I am certain she telephoned before for an appointment. She looks towards my direction and a smile that is not warm appears in her lips, a triumphant smile I would call it. She obviously approves of my appearance.

They open the door for her and as she goes in she makes a sign for me to follow. I rush in behind her; the sales girl examines me from top to bottom without saying hello or even smile at me. I must admit that Angelita didn't even let me wear Violetta's dress I had on this morning. She asked me to keep the old black skirt on and she gave me an old pinkish blouse that certainly had seen better days. It must have been a product of the late fifties with lace bordering the collar and long sleeves. I could see that they knew I was there to be fitted with my new working clothes and the bourgois lady was the one paying.

I heard Violetta talking to an older lady, probably the shop owner or manager, "Yes, she is my new 'femme de menage', she just arrived from Portugal. I want the full panoply for her, overalls for housework, proper uniforms for serving, some practical aprons and caps. Also a couple of simple dresses for outside wear, she has virtually nothing." She lowered her tone of voice, but it still was loud enough for me to hear, "I don't want anything expensive, simple working clothes, some underwear also and thick stockings or tights." She stopped to look at me and then she turned with a smile to the lady, in a louder voice again, "But I actually forgot, Maria can't really understand French, just a few basic words and that's all. So, what I was saying is that she is used to a very low level of life, so we don't have to spoil her immediately. Let her find out later for herself."

The manager answered back in a very polite manner, because she could see that a large order and profit was imminent, "Of course Madame, we will provide your new maid with all she needs. We will make her look very smart and neat; one of my assistants will be here shortly with some clothes for her to try on."

She offered an easy chair to Violetta to sit comfortably and she indicated to me the direction to the changing/fitting room. Violetta asked the manager to provide some serving uniforms to start with, nothing fancy, just a black dress from strong material below the knees with a white collar and cuffs in three quarters sleeves. I could hear talking to her from my position in front of the changing room.

Soon a sales girl appeared, asking me for my size. I looked at her a bit idly, trying to follow Violetta's instructions to pretend that I don't understand French. Violetta answered instead of me, "she doesn't understand you, but please bring dresses a couple of size bigger, she needs room to expand. All my domestics over the years tend to put on weight when in service, they eat better here and they tend to overdo it at times. I don't blame them though, after years of deprivation in their own country, they try to make the most when in our bourgeois houses".

My God, she has some nerve my 'new Boss'! She was putting me down in front of the sales girl who was a bit surprised to here all those racist remarks about Portuguese women. But she must have heard it before. Those Parisian bourgeois ladies are well known for their arrogance. After all my ex wife was not much different and obviously Violetta learned well her lesson after years in the other side of the fence. She must have heard those humiliating remarks quite often herself over the years and now she was paying me back with the same coin.

Soon I was standing outside the changing room, wearing a black dress made of strong material that was certainly big for me but had a pretty lacy collar and cuffs as it's only adornment. The sales girl tied a white apron on top of the dress with a bib and matching lace edging and a small cap that she fitted very easily to my newly fixed short curly hair. She was not trying to talk to me anymore, she simply was looking back towards Violetta to check her reactions. Finally she gave me a pair of black two inch shoes that completed my uniform.

I turned around to face Violetta. She had a big victorious smile in her face, she felt that she had me now. She asked me to proceed towards her and turn around for inspection. She made a remark about the apron bow, telling me that I should learn to do it symmetrically and I wasn't working anymore in a café in Lisbon but in a grand Parisian bourgeois house! She spoke to me in French very slowly as if she was addressing a simple person. She finished by saying, "Do you understand everything I said to you Maria?"

I spontaneously made an effort of a slight curtsey saying at the same time in accented French, "Oui Madame, je vous comprend completement".

She approved of my effort to curtsey in front of the sales girl because she said in a kinder tone, "Bravo Maria, you are a fast learner, I think sooner than I thought you will be a very efficient maidservant".

I felt somehow that this verbal remark of my new employer had a deeper meaning of the type, 'you are doing well Jean Marie in your new role as my servant and I will be able to bring you down to the desired level faster than I thought'. Again I had that feeling of 'conspiracy theory', as if Violetta and Angelita and who else was going to be involved were following a pre arranged plan of some sort. But I was accepting it so far eagerly, so be it!

Violetta turned again to the sales girl and said, "that uniform is fine, please pack two of each item except for the shoes. She needs only one pair of those shoes and some flat ones for the heavy housework. Would you be so king now to bring some other overall dresses for daily use, probably a striped pink one for light housework and errands and a blue one for the heavy cleaning. Also some heavy duty aprons and head scarfs?"

The sales girl departed in a rush with a very polite, 'oui Madame, tout de suite Madame'

Fifteen minutes later, wearing a new cheap dress completely formless, my new patronne was adamant about getting a bigger size for me even for my new street clothes, I was following Madame Violetta carrying two big bags with all the new purchases, my new working and street clothes.

We headed for the car and Violetta asked me to drive my old BMW, her car now, as a simple driver. She took the back seat like the grande dame she was now and I started driving feeling slightly silly. I meant to talk to her now that we were in a more private mode, I wanted to tell her that the experiment was getting a bit 'out of hand' and she was somehow exaggerating in her behaviour towards me, but she never gave me the chance.

She started talking about the preparations for this evening, "now Maria I already arranged with the caterers, they are bringing later tonight dinner provisions for 4 people. I told them that my maid will receive the delivery and will organise the rest. That means you don't have to cook tonight, your role will be to serve the food and look after my guests in a hopefully efficient way."

We shortly arrived to the house, I parked the car to the garage, she asked me to carry her shopping to her dressing room and then to carry my parcels to the 3d floor attic were I was going to stay from now on!

I've seen that room only once ever since we moved in to this house some years ago and I hardly remembered it. Nobody ever used it all those years, since we never had a live in servant, but now I was going to use it as the servant of the house! I felt like a Cinderella in reverse twice. Form male to substitute female, form master to maid!

Violetta who regularly inspected that room gave me a key and said to me, "I can see Maria you are like a plant flowering in the middle of winter, you certainly are a submissive 'travesti' and you enjoy your new position and clothes." She stopped to look at me as I was blushing as usually and continued, "As for me, I certainly enjoy my new extensive and expensive array of fashionable clothes, but what I enjoy more is the respect I receive form all those shop owners and assistants. I know that they are basically a bunch of hypocrites, but they certainly all respect money and affluence."

She stopped again and became more formal when she addressed me again, "Now Maria, you go and unpack your new clothes and come down as soon as possible wearing the pink striped dress, white bib apron and cap, black hose and flat shoes. You start cleaning the dining room very carefully, dusting and vacuuming and then you wash the floor of the entrance hall, down on your hands and knees as I instructed you this morning. As for me I am going to have a bath again, I feel a bit dirty after all those outdoor activities."

I managed to talk finally in a timid way though, "Excuse me Madame may I have a shower as well before I come down, I feel quite dirty myself after all this cleaning and walking."

She looked at me for the first time in a nearly kind manner, "Of course you can have a shower Maria, but I must tell you that there is no hot water in your room at the moment, but I intend to get a plumber in the next day or two to fix that problem. So I am afraid you must have a cold shower. Now run along girl, it's getting late and the caterers will be here in an hour."

Soon I was struggling with a small bar of soap and the freezing water to clean myself. I somehow managed and then I tried to dry myself with a small towel. At the end though the whole process was quite invigorating. I don't remember feeling that well and energetic in ages!

A few minutes later I was descending the small attic stairs dressed as asked. I stopped to look at myself at the first floor corridor mirror. A rather plain looking uniformed maid was looking back at me, the lack of make up made me look a bit masculine, but the curly brown hair adorned by a small white maid's cap was modifying that impression considerably. I probably should ask Madame if I had to put make up on for the expected guests. I looked towards the direction of my former bedroom, the door was firmly closed and somehow I didn't dare knocking at it. I decided to go downstairs and start doing the chores I was asked to do.

I was down on my knees mopping the entrance hall when Violetta appeared again. Apparently my new patronne liked to appear when I am down on my hands and knees, she obviously was enjoying the feeling of seeing me in that humiliating position and I was nearly certain that she was going to lecture me again. And I was right!

 

To be continued

  

  

  

*********************************************
© 2002 by Monica Graz. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.