Since I began researching my book, I have received on average one helpful anecdote, tip or book/documentary reference per conversation. I have received them all gratefully. Also, suddenly I see the topic of my book everywhere. This morning, I was reading The Assassin's Cloak: An Anthology of the World's Greatest Diarists, which begins with Samuel Pepys accidentally elbowing his wife in the face, in elegant prose, and continues equally brilliantly. On page 28, there is the following entry by Liane de Pougy, from January 11, 1920:
Like every morning I have had my enema, in order to preserve a clear skin and sweet breath. It is a family habit, approved of by Dr. Pinard. One of Maman's great-aunts, the beautiful Madame Rhomès, died at the age of ninety and a half with a complexion of lilies and roses, skin like a child's. She took her little enema, it seems, at five o'clock every evening, so that she would sleep very well. She did it cheerfully in public. She would simply stand in front of the fireplace; her servant would come in discreetly, armed with the loaded syringe; Madame Rhomès would lean forward gracefully so that her full skirts lifted, one two there, and it was done! Conversation was not interrupted. Afer a minute or two my beautiful ancestress would disappear briefly, soon to return with the satisfaction of a duty performed.