Constance Debré

Andrew: How was the shoot yesterday?
Constance: The place was amazing – this brutalist tower in the nineteenth arrondissement. It’s my dream to live in a very modern building like that. Not the ‘Emily in Paris’ vibe.
I know you’re an author, but like, who are you beyond that? How do you think of yourself?
It may sound really arrogant, but I don’t think about myself a lot. I write in the first person so I become a character. I use myself as material. So what do I think about myself? I don’t know. I’m not well adapted to the world, to this society. It’s very hard to be adapted to society. That’s why I decided to write.
Because you feel like an outcast?
I’m basically like a kid in his bedroom, playing with toys, when I’m writing. But the world thinks it’s serious business. But it is. You have a big literary career.
Do you enjoy it at least?
Yes.
There’s this one chapter in your second big novel, ‘Love Me Tender’, that opens with a great line: ‘My work consists of waiting, swimming and fucking girls.’ How much of that routine is still true?
Well, I’m not waiting for anything anymore. But I still swim. I still write. And about fucking girls…it’s only one girl.
Ah! You’re together with someone. How’s that?
Her name is Camille. We’ve been dating for three years. But on and off, so many times. It’s a dysfunctional way to function, but a good way to function. Probably.
The on-again, off-again?
Breaking up. I recommend it. You have the advantages of being with someone when you want and the advantages of being alone when it’s too much. It’s painful and difficult, but at the same time, it’s cool. For years it’s been our way to function. And why not?
Do you live together?
No, but I spend lots of time at her place. I’m constantly moving around.
That’s right. You told me over email that you just gave up your place this week, again. Do you think being so itinerant has made it hard for you to date?
Probably.
You still live pretty frugally, right? There’s this classic internet meme with a photo of a messy apartment with just a mattress on the floor. The text goes, ‘At least you know the dick’s gonna be good.’ Does this sex appeal work with girls?
Girls? I mean, I haven’t found one girl who likes a mattress on the floor. I love it. But I’m sure there’s also an appeal. ‘She’s raw.’ ‘She’s…I don’t know…something attractive.’ But once we start really dating, it’s all, ‘Shouldn’t you have furniture? Why don’t you go back to law and make more money? Because I’d like to go on vacation with you, weekends away.’ Things I hate.
Were you that way before your whole, like, personal revolution? Always throw¬ing things out?
I had much more money when I was a lawyer, but I still didn’t like stuff. But the main reason to live like this now is because it’s my choice. I like to live this way. I’m not interested in accumulation. There’s some beauty in it. It’s an aesthetic…
…that probably scared away some ladies.
Well, it’s good to scare people. It’s sexy.
You definitely subvert the “lesbian with a U-haul” cliché. Have people told you this before?
I had been living with a man for 20 years. Doing the same with a girl was not very interesting to me. I’m lesbian, there’s no question about it. It’s all over my books. Yet I’m very much an outsider to the community, culturally speaking.
When I first realized I’m gay, it felt strange because I didn’t like pop music or ‘RuPaul’s Drag Race’ – all these expected references.
Being gay is a good way not to be in the hetero world, but it’s good not to be part of the gay world as well. You have to find a very personal way to be.
In your books, you numbered your hookups. “Girl A”, “Number 3”. That struck me as pretty gay. The game of it all. I don’t have a list but…
You don’t? Wow. I did at the beginning because it’s so fun. It’s rude. It’s fun because it’s rude.
Did you write little reviews for everyone?
No, but I marked the places. Like in the morning after you sleep over, you walk outside and you’re like, ‘Where am I? Oh, it’s a good neighborhood.’ You have your personal map, your personal fuck map of Paris.

To me, you embody this queer outlaw vibe that has a long history in Paris. Who are your literary idols?
Guillaume Dustan, especially back then, in the mid-90s. I think he’s one of the best writers of the last 50 years.
What about women?
Virginie Despentes. She’s a friend and I love her. I like Lydia Lunch, Eileen Myles. Kathy Acker, but I have mixed feelings about her. The thing is, I like those figures, of course. But it’s very important when you decide to write to forget about everything and not follow anyone. I threw out all my books when I started writing.
Fuck. Did that hurt?
No, because it’s the ultimate thing.
No sentimentality?
When you’re not comfortable, it’s interesting. To see that nothing actually happens if you throw them away. Nothing. And then, you’re in a room with no books at all and what do you have to write? You’re not going to try to reference someone.
There was this moment in ‘Love Me Tender’ where you’re in the custody battle for your son. The prosecutor started reading excerpts from your personal library, Guibert and Battaille, to prove you’re a pedophile. Did that actually happen?
Absolutely. It was crazy. It was the lawyer of my ex who went through my bookshelf. Hervé Guibert is a great writer, but it’s a book. It’s a fucking book. It’s not reality, it’s fiction. It created an atmosphere in the courtroom for a minute that meant that myself, or homosexuality, is some¬thing more than immoral – it’s something criminal. I was shocked for two reasons. First, the suggestion that homosexuality is perverse or criminal, and second, that they’d use fiction as a piece of evidence, of reality.
Do you think this situation helped you throw away all your books?
Absolutely. I felt betrayed by literature at that time. Also, it helped me want to become the narrator. ‘Those books betrayed me, but I’m gonna be the author.’ You know? I’m gonna decide what a book is because I’m gonna write.
Do you see your son now more?
Yes…I see him. He’s taller than me! He’s 15 years old. We have a good relation¬ship. He has his life now. But he’s cool. I think he’s alright. I’m a mother. And what I want is for him to be okay. I don’t think he’ll be gay.
Maybe in 30 years…like you. (laughs)
I don’t regret anything. Even though there were difficulties, especially with my son and money, there was also this fantastic energy and pleasure in being alive. It’s with my late coming-out that I found my writing energy, my style and my material.
Did your libido explode too?
No doubt. Finally fucking girls – my real libido came out.

Did your style change?
I remember my ex-husband telling me, ‘Well, maybe you could wear something else instead of jeans and men’s shoes…’ So my style didn’t completely change. I’m usually in black or gray. I have two suits, maybe one pair of jeans, and two white t-shirts and two black t-shirts, one leather jacket and one bomber jacket. And that’s all.
Are the tattoos new?
More or less. Now I want to have my back tattooed, but each time it’s a failure. It’s hard to pin down the right artist. I’m also removing one. (motions to neck)
Plutôt Crever.
“Rather die”. It’s too obvious. I got tired of it.
When you get tattoos, is it spur-of-the-moment?
Everyone has tattoos. It’s rather ugly, but sometimes I feel like they fix something. It’s a bit childish. At the end, you’re just dead in a box. But I don’t have many things and I’m moving constantly. At least I know my tattoos are permanent.
Bodily permanence instead of material permanence.
And even if one is a mistake, it’s like life – you have to live with your mistakes.
Do you have a type when it comes to girls?
I don’t think so. I love to be attracted in a complete way to someone. She has to have something special.
What turns you on?
Some kind of beauty. But to me, beauty is a mix of things. I love a bit of darkness, sometimes. I like unconventional people, that’s for sure.
So if someone’s too pretty it doesn’t work for you?
I don’t know. Camille is a very beautiful woman. It doesn’t happen all the time that you find someone who you still find hot after three years. After we’re done, I’ll maybe meet her in a bar and I know I’ll have this immediate pleasure.
How has your sex life evolved?
This is a very interesting question. The on-and-off thing was good for the sex since it adds some…
…spiciness?
Yeah. Sometimes a routine is good. But you need to find other things to turn you on and try something new. It’s good sometimes not to have sex for a while. With Camille, I like to be fucked by her. And I like to fuck her.
Are you usually vers?
Oh, yeah.
Do you use, like, a strap-on?
Sometimes.
Have you ever dated trans and non-binary people?
No, never.

I have a lesbian friend who also came out late. She’s talked about there being a generational gap. If you’re fucking much younger queer people, there’s a whole identity piece to deal with. And a lot less dykes.
Yeah. I’m too old to be non-binary. But at the same time, since I was five, I think I’ve been non-binary. That’s probably one of the reasons I’ve never dated a trans or non-binary person – I feel in the middle. But I’ve been a girl so long, it’d be strange for me to change that. But also, I’m not like the other girls. In Paris, 20 years ago, it would’ve been much more difficult to be me, with my shaved head, wearing a suit, kissing a girl on a terrace. For sure, the way people talk and think about identity is so different if you are 60, 50 or 20. Even for straight people.
What do you think about the dynamics in France? On the one hand, there’s this long history of liberalism around identity and sex. But then with certain things, like gender neutral language, there’s this conservatism.
France is late with everything because France is a very bourgeois society. In New York or Amsterdam, it’s a different headspace.
It’s funny because the American cliché is that French women can be a bit more masculine and French men more effeminate.
I agree, especially in certain milieus. My own family was very much like that. My father was very tender and sweet and absolutely not gay. And my mother used to drive and smoke and use a gun. When I was 14, my mother told me it was time to start using a rifle. We were living in Paris. Nobody was hunting anymore. My father was bourgeois and my mother was more aristocratic. Stupid distinctions, 200 years after the Revolution. But yes, the gender thing is more fluid in those milieus than in other classes. Getting away from my family history is one of the reasons why I like to be abroad.
Do people recognize you on the street in Paris?
Of course.
Is this why you avoid lesbian spaces? Because people would talk to you.
Yes, it’s awful. I don’t go to parties. Especially because I’m older. I’m 51, so it’d be strange to start. I’m such a loner. Also, my small fame made it worse than it was.
So you don’t like gay bars?
I haven’t been to many, but sometimes my gay friends, the men, drag me out. On Sunday afternoon, there’s le Cox in the Marais. It’s like going to church. I have a friend that calls and says, ‘Well, we we’re going to Mass, are you coming with us?’ It’s just like having a beer at sundown on Sunday evening. I like it.
What’s your routine for writing?
Swimming in the morning and then doing nothing else than trying to write. Sometimes it’s just lying on my mattress, staring at the ceiling. To me writing is also an excuse to escape from everyone. Some days, I’m just walking the streets and cancel all my plans.
Well, that’s lovely.
It’s the perfect excuse. ‘I’m a writer. Sorry, I can’t.’
Why are you going to the United States this week?
I’m going to New York for a few readings. Then in LA I’ll hang out with Hedi El Kholti and Chris Kraus from Semiotext(e), my US publisher. That’s a really good crew. Last year I was supposed to spend ten days in LA, but I ended up staying a whole month. I love LA. It’s so different from Paris, but has such charm. There’s also something a bit tragic. You can feel it’s just at the edge of sadness.

Do you get a lot of inspiration from cities in general?
Sometimes I’m really pissed off about Paris. It gets in the way of living here. I hate the architecture. I hate the people. This month it’s better, probably because I’m leaving.
A classic French mentality. At least you’ve lived very different lives in Paris.
I had one life on the left bank and my new life on the right.
How did you start the first book? You just woke up one day and was like, ‘My life is changing. I need to write about it?’
As a criminal lawyer, I was pleading every day in court. I was good at using language. When you plead to let someone out of jail, you must make the language forceful in order to make the judges or the jury come to a decision. Language like this is almost physical. I find French literature very boring – I don’t read much of it. I wanted to write something that is short and urgent. I write novels, but they’re short novels. People don’t have time anymore.
When I bought ‘Love Me Tender’ I was like, ‘Oh, yay. It’s 150 pages. I can do it.’
I tried to write when I was 20 or 25, but it wasn’t good. When I got to my mid-forties I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to try. My mother died when I was 46. I thought, ‘I’m not gonna wait another ten years or even another six months to start writing.’ And at the same time, I found myself enjoying sex with girls. Finally.
It gave you a shock of energy? Sex as creative fuel?
What seduces me, what strikes me, charms me, disrupts me is one thing – disrespect. In literature and in love too. I want to be disrespected by the woman I love, as much as I am respected. And I am. And it gives me a hard-on, morally. Too much respect is boring. I don’t give a fuck about books or people who wait to cross the street until the light turns green.
Do you plan to keep writing, or is there another dramatic career switch in the works?
I think I’ll stick to writing.