Georges is at Paul Colin’s graphic design school; it is 1945.
There is a whole little band of Zazous there who are headed at least in Georges’s case toward a career as a poster designer.
One fine day one of his classmates asks him to stand in for him on the layout desk of the magazine Point de Vue. They all had little side jobs in addition to their studies with Colin.
Georges doesn’t know a thing about it, but his buddy tells him it’s very simple and explains what he needs to know.
The thing is, he really cannot miss his sister’s wedding, and it would be really classy if Georges could cover for him.
Georges turned out to be so accommodating that he ended up stealing his job, and there Georges became a layout artist at Point de Vue.
He was bored stiff there and, above all, he regularly sees a reporter with an exotic name Willy Rizzo sweeping through the newsroom in a whirlwind.
He was instantly captivated by the man.
First by his style: a custom-made suit, leather shoes and a trench coat from the American army.
Even crazier, he had a car and petrol to put in it; it was in 1946, France was on its knees, and ration cards were still the order of the days.
Georges said to himself, “I want to be like that guy,” and from then on he never let go of Willy.
Apparently it worked: they became buddies, Willy taught him how to use a Rolleiflex and a flash, and they began roaming the clubs of Paris every night.
Dad didn’t sleep for two years.
Guillaume Dambier
