Prisunic and Monoprix, labs of beauty – Liberation

In other words, for a good twenty minutes, we understood nothing. And once the visit was complete, we redid it upside down to really find our way around. But on reflection, the scenography that gives rise to this gymkhana is well seen. By choosing to deploy "Design for all: from Prisunic to Monoprix, a French adventure" within the permanent collections of the Museum of Decorative Arts, over five floors, with markers on the ground and a light code (orange and pink) for the only tools of distinction (which are sometimes zapped), the architect, designer and scenographer India Mahdavi shows the commonality between what is officially art and certain everyday consumer objects, and how much the border between the two registers is sometimes, even often, quite tenuous.

Therefore, its bias underlines the subtlety of the objects summoned by the curator Marianne Brabant, very everyday but also refined, without our necessarily being aware of it: those that Prisunic and its successor Monoprix have been distilling in French life for the years 50. We leave the exhibition fairly amazed by the relevance (and effectiveness) of the view taken by the two general public commercial signs on French society for seventy years. "Prisu" and "Monop'" (the first was bought by the second in 1997, which kept only the Monoprix brand) have accompanied and fueled our developments, so that these five hundred objects, furniture, clothes, posters , slogans, catalogs seem familiar to us without even having necessarily owned them, they are part of our collective memory. This exposure provokes a re-recognition.

Arts deco enter the video game

Among the most recent elements, we find for example the clothing collections made in collaboration with Maison Château Rouge, the brand of afrostreetwear created in 2015 by Youssouf Fofana in the 18th arrondissement of Paris. Or the stools and poetic objects for the table designed by the decorator Vincent Darré. Or (in fridge-style showcases) beautiful retro plates imagined by A Paris at Antoinette Poisson, a craft house that reactivates the technique of 18th century dominotiers – which consists of designing printed sheets from boards engraved with floral or geometric patterns. . At the rate of some ten "collabs" per year, "Monop'" popularizes among the greatest number of names which otherwise would remain sensations reserved for a circle of happy few.

In one of the videos of the exhibition, India Mahdavi, who has two collaborations to her credit, praises the opportunity and the call of air, "a way of democratizing [my] work, of being able to s 'to have fun, to dream, like recreation'. Vincent Darré emphasizes the open-mindedness of his hosts: "At first, they talked about a collection for Christmas, but I hate Christmas, so I said: "No, I like summer, so we are going to have lunch on the grass, with animals that turn into objects, a bee in a lamp, a duck in a carafe, tables on frog legs.” […] They said yes to everything. I said to myself: "That's not French at all, in France we always say 'ah, no, it's not possible'." All of this is so charming (and pro domo advocacy) that for a little, we would forget that the collab is now an essential spring of the sale, which allows the signs to renew their offer, their window and their image permanently.

At the time of Prisu, on the other hand, the approach was downright revolutionary. An offshoot of Printemps, the chain aimed at all city budgets (and initially restricted to textiles and objects) was created in 1931 as a reaction to the Uniprix stores of competitor Galeries Lafayette. With success. But after the war, when the purchasing power and the desire to consume of the French were deployed, the brand took on yet another dimension. That of a laboratory of modernity, thanks in particular to the inventiveness and stubbornness of a woman: Denise Fayolle, director of style, press relations and packaging from 1957 to 1967 – after having been figure skating champion then fashion journalist. It is she who draws a slogan as dazzling as a quadruple toe loop: “Beauty at the price of ugliness”, echoing Laideur selle mal, the manifesto of the father of industrial design, Raymond Loewy. Her assistant is Andrée Putman, the future famous designer and architect, and the duo can count on the support of general manager Jacques Gueden, a business arrow sharpened at HEC and a fan of emerging marketing from across the Atlantic, at the same time passionate about aesthetics.

It is in this state of mind that the idea of ​​a collection of contemporary furniture emerges to complete Prisunic's ready-to-wear and accessories offer, with the establishment of a design office internal and collaborations. Francis Bruguière, who was its bridgehead, describes a hive of freedom ("it was a time when marketing did not exercise the dictatorship it exercises today") whose desire for democratization was well received by first interested parties, even though the specifications were both unprecedented and financially restrictive – to create beauty, yes, but at economic rather than astronomical costs. “Designers at that time only addressed an elitist clientele, being approached by a popular store ultimately appealed to them a lot, we had no trouble having them created for us. Well-known talents, Terence Conran, Olivier Mourgue, Gae Aulenti... and lesser-known ones for whom it was a springboard. And we also discovered some.”

That was in 1967. Fifty-four years later, the vintage effect is going full steam ahead. Materials (molded plastic, Plexiglas, polyester, etc.), very flashy colors, ultragraphic shapes and patterns (full of playful curves in particular), spirit of modulation and convertibility: this furniture is a concentrate of the typical pop optimism of the time, “this exceptional moment, with baby boomers who did not want to live like their parents, neither in their behavior nor in their furnishings” (Francis Bruguière). How not to rejoice, for example, at the sight of the large white bed designed by Marc Held, not far from the liner, a huge invitation to spread out, laze around. Its design is a feat. Made of fiberglass reinforced with polyester, its technique is similar to that used for small dinghy boats, says its author – “We could unmold it like a cake or a sandcastle.” Yves Cambier, who worked alongside Francis Bruguière, specifies: "This design was very reasoned, very well thought out, which met needs, for example the foam sofas which allow you to wallow in it so that before we were rigid in our seat.” Claude Courtecuisse, designer of the Apollo fireside chair, emphasizes its simplicity ("four tubes, a canvas, two cushions and straps") and practicality ("foldable, stowable and that you can buy it to take it under the arm"). The seat was distributed by Steiner, a chic French furniture brand. Prisunic selected it for its catalog, and hop, it was off to a real popular success.

Communication art

Prisunic's mail-order furniture sales catalogues: they can be found at the end of the exhibition, recognizable among a thousand by their square format and their seventies-style covers . Today, at the time of Ikea, Habitat, Conforama, But and others, the case is commonplace. But when the Parisian brand launched its own in 1968, it was once again a pioneer of terra incognita. In political, social, generational and sexual turmoil, France is still dozing in terms of the democratization of design, unlike Great Britain where Habitat appeared or Sweden, the cradle of Ikea. Director Jacques Gueden also returns to César the scepter that belongs to him: he entrusts the design of the furniture for the very first Prisunic catalog to Terence Conran, the designer and furniture manufacturer who founded Habitat in 1964. From then on and for nine years , this catalog stands out as a design rendezvous for all, punctuated by top-flight guests (Marc Held, Jean-Claude Muller, Gae Aulenti, Olivier Mourgue, Jean-Pierre Garrault, Pierre Bacou, etc.) with such public craze that Prisu finally abandoned this vein for lack of being able to follow, while the reconstitution of spaces bedroom, living room, kitchen prove the obviousness of the proposal.

"Design for all: from Prisunic to Monoprix, a French adventure", until May 15, 2022 at the Museum of Decorative Arts, in Paris.

This is an aspect that the exhibition highlights: from Prisu to the current Monoprix, an art of communication irrigates the two signs. The visuals, very colorful and graphic, make you want or smile (this proud mustachioed man in his tight-fitting shirt, worn with a clownish tie, in 2000), the slogans joyfully handle a humor of proximity and reactivity. For example, we remember very well these messages that appeared during confinement: “Clothing for children up to 3 years old is essential again. Others please stop growing” and other “we are allowed to sell you kitchen accessories again. It’s a 180° turn, or 6” thermostat. Know how to take the temperature of the time, always.