Bonni Brodnick Blog

  I was a total rube when I started my first job as an editorial assistant at Glamour . For one thing. I talked too loud on the phone. My editor taught me how to sound more grown-up (i.e., sophisticated). I was fresh out of school in New England and lived on Martha's Vineyard for a few months after my summer job ended. "You want to speak softly and lower your voice," she said. "Like this:  'Hulllloooo, you've reached Glamour magazine. How may we help you?" After two years, I became an assistant beauty and health writer. Frankly, I was getting tired of telling women what diet they should follow. A new products column dictated what lipstick to wear, and if they wore the color I mentioned in the past few issues, these H&G readers were pathetically passé. But the real reason I left Condé Nast Publications to become a press agent at ICPR was that a close colleague in Glamour editorial invited me. She had left Condé Nast a few months earlier for the oth...

  One of the most memorable parts of our trip to France this summer was the day Andrew and I visited Chantal at the senior residence in Aix-en-Provence where she lived. She was 94 years old and as lovely as ever. As Chantal and I spoke in French, I looked into her eyes and saw the sparkle of her younger days, when we lived at Domaine de Valcros, the Provençal manor where she hosted students on the third floor. Chantal always wore a skirt and blouse, and toujours, toujours Chamade, the wonderful Guerlain perfume. As it turns out, we were among the last to see her. Chantal died two weeks later. These photos were taken when I revisited in the 1980s. Chantal's son Thibault stated it perfectly: "Maman était vraiment l'amour, la joie, bonne humeur, l'attention et l'écoute des autres." (Translation: "Mom was really love, joy, good humor, caring, and attentive to others.") Rest in eternal peace, dear Chantal de Kernanois.