I arrive at the Mairie, sans maquillage, and the lovely guy at the desk recognises me, smiles warmly and calls me by another woman’s name. As soon as I try to correct his error he apologises, remembering that he did the same thing the last time we met, and we both laugh. Do she and I look similar? He thinks so, he says. I explain that I’ve been told there is a grant toward restoring the outside of the house, and he says he’ll get me an appointment. I wonder what does this other bloody woman look like – is she actually my doppelgänger?
He phones me in the afternoon, while I am on the balcony with colour charts, matching the shutters as closely as possible (somewhere between ‘gauze deep’ and ‘bone china blue’ – though closer to ‘gauze deep’). I am on my way, I tell him, and I go straight there, just slightly grubbier than in the morning. He hadn’t realised how complicated the matter was, that there are forms to be completed for the permit, that 2 quotations must be obtained, and that we must then write a letter to the Mayor and the work inspected before money can be awarded
His English is good, but I try to keep him in French so we mix it up a lot. He’s apologetic about the amount of time involved – six months just for the permission, and longer for the grant – but I’m undeterred
He sends me upstairs, and as I climb the staircase I see that the building is very beaux-arts inside, though municipalisation has disguised much of this. I arrive at the correct office where a well-dressed and (as I discover later) very fragrant lady greets me somewhat coolly, having been pre-warned that this Anglaise was on her way. Her colleague at the other desk is in charge but is clearly a man who would prefer to spend ten minutes explaining to her what needs doing than to do it himself. As it turns out, she’s very kind and she accompanies me back downstairs to the guy I was speaking with before, because, as she explains, he speaks English and she doesn’t. Once installed at his desk she shows us both the extent of the paperwork and produces a sheet of twelve potential stonework/shutter colour combos for which I may request the permit
The choices illustrated are yellow stonework with shutters in mauve, dark or light blue, beige stone or red with brown, orange stone with brown, light or dark green, pink stone with brown or pale blue, or blue stone with light or dark green. It looks to me like the plans for a Disney resort
I am, shall we say, ‘unimpressed’
I explain that we don’t want to change the colours, only to repaint exactly as it is (grey front and white-ish back, both with the same pale blue-grey shutters, minus the rust stains). But no, they explain, there is no white or grey option, only the colours on the chart, though neither is championing these colour choices, and both are sympathetic. I simply will not renovate at all, I say, but of course this is not an option as the Mairie wants it sorted out. This is the stage at which I become aware of the fragrance of the elegantly dressed lady as she sits down next to me, in my stinky wallpaper-stripping clothes and we ponder the colours together. Upon their request I translate the French ‘beige’ into the English ‘beige’. Still beige. He points at the beige desk. ‘What colour is beige in English?’ I point at the desk and tell him it’s the same colour, we all giggle and it’s good-natured and conspiratorial
Forty minutes and several (mainly unrelated) phone calls later, they are still both sitting with me and all three of us are still disillusioned with the horrible colour sheet, perplexed that the authentic existing colours of this house which has stood elegant and French in grey for four centuries are simply and suddenly out of fashion. And I am sure that the irony that the Mairie does not fit into this scheme does not escape either of them
My only hope, they say, is to complete the forms and explain in a heartfelt letter to the Mayor exactly why I don’t want to change anything, I only want to preserve what is here, and just hope that he will give an exceptional permit for this
I didn’t fall in love with an orange and green house. But I would quickly fall out of love with one, so I have to hope that reason prevails…
To be continued (but most likely not for a few months – I’ve obviously got a lot of paperwork, thinking and letter-writing to do). And there may be a spot of crying
Poshbird with Passion 
Oh my lord, I would crack up. I’ve always thought that controlling the colours that people can paint their homes might be a good idea but then, not if you let the bureaucrats choose the colours!
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Yes, clearly they let the wrong guy loose on this!
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It’s always the way. We hit a similar ‘beyond our control’ brick wall over our planning permission. John Malkovich wasn’t in it.
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These are not colours chosen by batiments de France. In the case of a listed building they are very stringent but the colours tend to be pretty much what your house has now … quite muted – certainly not Disney. Is yours on the register? If not, I’m guessing this is a separate entity of colour blind French who are doling out the dosh and deciding they want a stake in the overall feel of one of ‘their’ houses?
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It’s definitely not on any register, but is within the area of the local ‘castle’ which is actually just an old fort, not very touristic. They did tell me it was the Batiments de France choices, but I think there must be some misunderstanding. Either way, nothing will convince me to destroy the house
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Absolutely not an option – death by foul paint! It might be worth being in touch independently with the locale architect des monuments et batiments historique de France – ours is great and very supportive. They should be based in your prefecture (Carcassonne?)
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Patience is your virtue, Posh. Certainly not something I’d be good at. Trying to decode the rhyme and reason behind such ludicrous regs would have me apoplectic, for sure. Courage!
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just hang in there, maybe the mayor will listen to you.
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I find your story amazing when my neighbour has ‘fixed up’ the second storey of his ‘sort of barn’ with a new red metal roof and then boarded up the open side with the sort of stuff you see on derelict houses with graffiti on it. It had a corrugated iron roof and wooden planks across some of the opening before but at least it looked ‘rustic’. His ‘sort of barn’ adjoins our house at right angles and it looks awful but I’m not sure it’s worth complaining to the Mairie as we are foreigners and might get short shrift. Our neighbours on the other side (English) haven’t bothered rendering the outside of their barn conversion yet as, because of another weird French law, they don’t have to pay as much tax whilst it remains ‘unfinished’. I’m afraid the acclaimed French chic has yet to arrive in the Ariège and, by the sounds of it, the Aude is no different.
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I always assumed that permissions were required to change anything, but that retaining something was a given right. I don’t want to rock the boat, being an ‘etrangere’ – or at least ‘etrange’ – but if they don’t agree to us keeping these colours I will have to find a way of cheating, which I would rather not have to do
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It’s quite incredible that the French who are supposed to be so very chic are proposing colours that are not at all chic. I hope you find a way around it; the rules sound completely ridiculous to me.
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Mad, isn’t it. Can’t give up so will have to try
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Well , it’s good news re the grant, but not so good for colour combos! Am aware of batiments de France terrible taste decisions and so glad Campagne is not restricted in this way.
Good luck with that heartfelt letter.
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You’ve seen our house. Grant or no, it has no interest in being any of those colours
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That’s very true. Chic and muted outside it should be.
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Oh my. Where did they come up with the colors? I thought the Bâtiments de France made those decisions, not the mairies. We didn’t qualify for aid because we aren’t going to rent to long-term, low-income tenants.
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Interesting about the rules, wasn’t aware of that. I was actually told these were the colours that Batiments de France have chosen. It’s hard to believe – I think the word ‘disgusting’ could be used
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