My grandmother was raised to be an accomplished wife. She was thirty-five years old when she died at the epicentre of a family tragedy.
I recently found in my parents’ house a pack of old unused ‘Cartes de Menu’, which can only have been bought by my grandmother in preparation for a grand diner at her house. She would have sought out and worked for the greatest refinement when hosting any elegant event.
There is poignancy in holding the obsolete, faded and yellowed cards one century later. I have made interventions on her Cartes de Menu as homage to her.