Leopards Never Really Change Their Spots
And thank god
Standing in Napoleon’s bathroom at Compiègne, I stare down at the floor agog. Instead of the expected marble or parquet, it’s carpeted in wall to wall leopard. While I have thoughts on the impracticality of carpet in a bathroom, I can’t help but feel delight. I fixate on how modern the room looks, convinced yet again in the perpetual circularity of what’s in vogue. Emerald green felt, gold hardware, and leopard carpet feels more at home in a Pinterest mood board than a dead Emperor’s hunting lodge. And yet. Even with all the clean stone walls and staircases, Minimalist Millennial Greige Compiègne is not. Judging by the bathroom alone, I could call it home.
Perhaps I’m so struck by the enduring popularity of leopard because it reassures me that I actually have good taste after all. When I was a little girl, my best friend dreamed about her wedding. Wearing a sparkling gown, she would be married kneeling in a water basin surrounded by floating lilies. She laid out her finest fantasies and asked after mine. I couldn’t tell her anything about bridal gowns or bouquets, but I could map out the aesthetics of my future apartment room by room. Raised on TCM, Little Lauren fancied herself an updated Doris Day straight out of Pillow Talk or Lover Come Back: the young professional with the single-gal one bedroom, her life was fraught with hilarious hijinks in the Big City. I could describe the fifties kitchen with the black and white tiled floor, the bathroom with the claw footed tub, and the exact shade of dusty pink I’d paint my bedroom walls.
Let’s zoom in on the living room, though. The living room would boast a panoramic view of buildings that glittered at night and a leopard print chaise. These two details were particular. After a long day of work, I’d toss myself down on my leopard chaise to contemplate the metropolis outside my window. In my favorite films, the heroines were always tossing themselves down dramatically, long skirts fanning out attractively. To my childish mind, a chaise implied luxurious leisure and the whisper of louche activity I didn’t understand. Having this leopard chaise was paramount, my desire for independence made concrete.
What put leopard front and center in my imagination? It’s impossible to point to a single source of inspiration. Leopard print’s allure lies in its subversive glamour. Both highbrow and lowbrow, leopard manages to simultaneously symbolize power and bad taste.