Jane Birkin

Jane Birkin, who died a few days ago, was a cool yet innocent screen presence. Wide eyed and eager yet also languid and dreamy. She was very sexy, too.

Serge Gainsbourg wrote this orgasm ballad for Brigitte Bardot, who also recorded it--beautifully. But I think it's a greater pleasure to hear Birkin's version.

She was underused in the stylish Italian horror film Seven Deaths in a Cat's Eye but her attitude and looks paired well with the gothic atmosphere.

She was dynamite, though, again, underused, in La Piscine.

But that may be the essence of one of those performers, like Marlene Dietrich or Sean Connery, whose coolness somehow makes it seem as though there's never quite enough of them in their films, even when they're the star. And now she's gone.

You may also have a Birkin Bag.

Twitter Sonnet #1718

From fire dreams the clouds forever held
The amber shade that looms above the world
From lost and brazen beasts, the maiden sailed
To helpless bays her fragile ship was hurled.
A lump revokes tomato dreams and teams
Of shameless shades remove the seats and beds
To strand the feet below the ragged seams
Of breeches cut before the fashion Feds.
For straightened thoughts and jackets strait restrict
The licensed lot of arms beyond the pale
Beyond the plan for love to now constrict
A grey and starchy skirt remembered well.
Surprised behind the painted screen a cat
Recalls the sleeping mind's imposing bat.