My imagination is running away with me today (I know! What’s new right ) It’s because I have just realised that tomorrow Boston will be celebrating L’Heure Bleue, the whimsical hours of evening enchantment celebrated in France and other exotic European countries. Translated, L’Heure Bleue means the Blue Hour or twilight, and in Boston, is thought of as a romantic Parisian tradition where observers catch the last rays of sunlight, and first glimpse of darkness. In Bean Town it is also an excuse to meet for a memorable time of cocktails, good food and interesting conversation.

It is a time of day until, living in the historic Massachusetts city and I received an invitation to a party to celebrate this phenomena of nature, that I was blissfully unaware of. Having grown up on the other side of the world to any country that acknowledges let alone celebrates these few hours, I seriously knew nothing about it but since than have been totally in awe of the completely captivating enchantment of these alluring but fleeting minutes and the associated connotations.

Anyhoo, whilst the world over enjoys the magic of L’Heure Bleue, for some reason unbeknown to me, Boston always throws a celebration on March 24th. Why this is so when each day in nearly every country, some variation of L’Heure Bleue is experienced is a tightly held secret. Can anyone help me with that? Anyone? … (Just an aside, I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess its for the smooch factor)

Tinerate, after delving a little deeper into this auspicious occasion it seems the blue hour has long been captivating the populous. In 1889, perfumer Jacques Guerlain, out strolling one evening, was struck by the words of a publicist, “the spectacle of nature bathed in a blue light, a profoundly deep and indefinable blue. In that silent hour, man is in harmony with the world and with light, and all the exalted senses speak of the infinite.” In 1912 the infamous namesake perfume was launched …

The sun has set, but night has not yet fallen. It’s the suspended hour … The hour when one finally finds oneself in renewed harmony  with the world and the light … The night has not yet found its star.  Jacques Guerlain

In Paris L’Heure Bleue is widely thought of as a time in which one meets their lovers before heading home from work to one’s wife and family. Or as the time “when the sky’s luminosity draws artists out of their studios to see light’s last glimmerings.”

My good mate, Wiki defines the blue hour as …

… the period of twilight … late in the dusk of each evening when the sun is at a significant distance below the horizon and the residual indirect sunlight takes on a predominantly blue hue. The effect is caused by the relative diffusibility of short blue wavelengths of light vs the longer red wavelengths with the red light passing into space while blue light is scattered in the atmosphere therefore reaching the earths surface …

Phew! Bet you didn’t expect a physics lesson Anyhoo, not nearly as seductive as the French explanation but at least it explains why it happens

Tinerate, the British also had their own interpretation of this fabulous time of the day, using it to describe the period when the pubs and other licensed premises were closed. Again, much more matter of fact than their European cousins and flowered with little fascination. Oy Vey …

Anyhoo, L’Heure Bleue has been seriously romanticised in both novels and Hollywood movies so it’s a wonder that the moment has not, to date, evolved into yet another Hallmark holiday. Or maybe it remains an ambiguity out of respect to the sentiment that is was “also used to refer to Paris immediately prior to World War One, which was considered to be a time of relative innocence…”

Till next time.

Tipsy Pipsy xo