Françoise Dorléac posing on the famed Montamarte stairs in Paris, Photographed by Georges Galmiche, 1965.🦋’

Françoise sang “Mario, j’ai mal”, a song about a prostitute. Actually she performed in what was probably the first video-clip ever made, on the stairs of Montmartre (Rue Chappe).

Françoise Dorléac in The Soft Skin (1964) Dir. François Truffaut

Françoise Dorléac in "Billion Dollar Brain" (dir. Ken Russell - 1967).

Françoise Dorléac photographed by Giancarlo Botti, Paris, 1966.

The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967) Director: Jacques Demy Cinematography: Ghislain Cloquet Production Design: Bernard Evein

Françoise Dorléac photographed at Cannes Film Festival (1965)

Les Dorléacs just being their awesome selves

Les Demoiselles De Rochefort/The Young Girls Of Rochefort

"Catherine was convinced that she was just a pale reflection of her older sister, whom she admired, adored and respected without being jealous."

-director Roger Vadim on Catherine Deneuve

Sisters Catherine Deneuve & Françoise Dorléac, playing twins in the musical Les Demoiselles de Rochefort, 1967

a sad marylily moment (i'm sorry)

Lily's laughing. Why is she laughing so much? What's James got to say that is so damn funny, so goddamn fucking hilarious, that it has Lily wiping literal tears out of her eyes?? What the hell is he saying to he—

"You know staring holes in the side of his head won't make him go away, right?" Marlene asks, one hand gripping a fork like a trident, her breakfast omlette balancing precariously on the prongs, with the other arm leaned on Dorcas' shoulder. Dorcas has started joining them every morning for breakfast. Not that Mary minds—not at all, honestly, but it just reminds her a little more of what she can't have, of who she can't have, who happens to be laughing with her newly-minted boyfriend a few tables down. Not that she's bitter, of course. She can't be bitter that two of her friends are happy and in love, what kind of friend would she be if she was?

The kind that's hopelessly in love with her best friend... maybe that kind.

"I'm not trying to make him go away, what're you talking about? I'm really happy for them, they seem perfect together." Mary may not be known for her lying skills, but she's trying her absolute hardest in this moment to be as deceptive as Remus when he gets asked about where he was the night of a full moon. The last thing she needs right now is Marlene commenting on her feelings.

The blonde raises her eyebrows at her but eventually shrugs and turns back to her food, so Mary thinks she's in the clear, for now. From the unimpressed look Dorcas throws her way, though, her lying could've been better. She’s looking at Mary like she just openly declared that she's not happy for the couple and that she is, in fact, full of shit.

See, the thing is, Mary knows she's full of shit. Mary knows that Dorcas knows she's full of shit, and Mary also knows that after this conversation, Marlene knows that Dorcas knows that Mary's full of shit, so everybody know's Mary's full of shit and and Mary would like to prolong this period of time in which Marlene is too tired meddle in Mary's shit, thank. you. very. much. She can only send Dorcas a pleading look that she hopes conveys the message, i know i know but please keep your girlfriend off my back about this, i'm gettting over it, really, i swear, but she isn't sure it all fit in the one glance. She also doesn't think it matters, as Lily just kissed James on the cheek and— wait. LILY JUST KISSED JAMES ON THE CHEEK??? and oh my god what the fuck what the fuck is this what dying feels like? God this sucks, maybe i’m not getting over it, maybe i’m getting worse, is transferring schools an option? I think Beauxbatons might be a good choice—

"You look like someone just kicked a pygmy puff," Marlene concernedly interjects into Mary's spiraling thoughts, and, okay, maybe Marlene isn't as unobservant as Mary was hoping she was. "You know he's good for her, right? I mean, I know you had feelings for her too, same as him, but I honestly think this is for the best. You don't have to worry about how he's treating her, I mean, no offense, but he's probably even better for her than you would've been, you know? I-"

Marlene gets cut off by a sharp elbow that Dorcas lodged directly between her eighth and ninth rib, but the damage has already been done. If Mary looked sad before, now she looks positively devastated.

Mary can hear the uncertainty in her own voice, as if she isn't quite sure if she wants to know the answer as she asks, "Why is he better for her than I would've been?"

Mary can't understand how Marlene, one of her best friends, could ever think that Mary wouldn't have given Lily absolutely everything in her, every shred of love she had gathered over her seventeen years of life—they're all for Lily; who else could they possibly be for? Mary would fly to space and move the planets herself if Lily asked her to make them align, she'd set herself on fire just for Lily's eyes to gaze at her, only her, for even a second longer. How could Marlene think her love isn't enough?

"It's just, I mean," Marlene huffs a laugh, "He worships the ground she walks on!"

"I worshipped the ground she walked on!" Mary wanted to cry out, because how could she, in this moment of disbelief, tell anything but the absolute truth? Mary’s shocked and hurt that Marlene thinks her adoration of Lily pales in comparison to James', simply because, what, she didn't physically shout it from the tabletops every chance she got? And how could she? She's a girl, and Lily's a girl, and Mary had heard enough of the nasty whispers about Marlene and Dorcas when they came out to understand that it's received differently by your peers when you're of the same sex as the person you love. You saw everything I wrote about her, I told you everything about how I felt, how could you say it wouldn't have been enough? Do you honestly think that I'm not good enough for her? Do you think he is? Is anyone? Mary doesn't think so; she thinks Lily will forever be too good for anyone she loves, but Mary would have loved to have not been good enough and just been chosen anyway.

But instead of saying all of that—instead of spilling her thoughts at the breakfast table as surely as her heart is spilling her hurt onto the floor, pooling around her feet in shades of scarlet, dulling into a muddy brown as it dries in the time she hesitates to think all of this—Mary laughs it off. "Yeah, you're probably right," she says, "He's surely better for her than me," and she actually thinks she believes it.

Because James fucking Potter is “the sun” (as everyone around her has started to call him), and he shows his love for Lily through grand gestures that overtake rooms like sunbeams on a cold February morning, and everyone around is forced to watch in the same way that the sun captures everything in its path as unwilling witnesses to its shine. His love wraps around Lily like a strangling hug that you never want to end, and if she truly was a flower like her name, she'd be flourishing in it. And if all this is true, if James is the sun and Lily is a flower, then Mary is surely the earth where the flower is planted; she's a home, she's hands to hold her, she's a necessity to Lily's life, but she will never be what Lily truly wants, or what she wakes up for in search of each day. She will never be James Potter, she will never be his love, or his light, and one day she'll ditch all the metaphors and the complex emotions and she'll come to terms with the fact that she never would have been enough.

But until then, she'll sit here, eat her pancakes, and feel like dirt.

Françoise Dorléac ´photographed by Gincarlo Botti on the set of "Julie de Chaverny ou la double méprise", 1966.

Sisters Francoise Dorléac and Catherine Deneuve

Francoise Dorleac, 1964. Photo taken by Peter Basch.

The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967) Director: Jacques Demy Cinematography: Ghislain Cloquet Production Design: Bernard Evein