Les Gourmandises de Mademoiselle Rose 羅斯小姐の甜蜜心事

The costumes of Antonio Arsenale at the Venice Carnevale are always a sight to behold.

They often have elements of a fairy tale to them and always a bit of romantic and naughty touch. After an abscence of 5 years from the Venice Carnevale, they are back this year with a sweet new costume titled Les Gourmandises de Mademoiselle Rose.

The characters of this costume are purely fictional, although in history, there is indeed a Mademoiselle Rose, with similar white hair and from around the same period. She is Mademoiselle Rose Bertin, Dressmaker to Marie-Antoinette...

The idea is like a perfume, a sweet delicate Rose on a background of spices and a lush amber-balsamic accord. Like a bag of sweets, children will not rest until they eat the whole bag! The sweet feast ends with coconut and vanilla lollipops, and the package enough to last the entire day. But to Mademoiselle Rose, the real delicacies for her are the boys!

The air hung thick with sugared almonds and the intoxicating scent of freedom. Venice, draped in the vibrant chaos of Carnevale, was a playground of hidden identities and whispered promises. For Rose, a young woman with eyes the color of the Adriatic and a spirit as fiery as a Murano glassblower's furnace, it was a time of delicious, dangerous possibilities.

Rose wasn’t Venetian by birth, but she’d quickly fallen under the spell of the lagoon city. Working as a seamstress, she stitched together intricate costumes by day and explored the maze-like calli by night, her imagination as limitless as the sky reflected in the canals. This Carnevale, she was determined to live a story worthy of the Venetian fabric she handled.

Her story began, innocently enough, with a macaron. Not just any macaron, mind you, but a perfectly formed pistachio confection, presented with a charming smile by Lorenzo, the candy seller. Lorenzo, with his mischievous grin and flour-dusted apron, was a constant fixture amidst the swirling crowds near the Rialto Bridge. He was a whirlwind of laughter and sweet treats, and Rose found herself drawn to his genuine warmth like a moth to a flickering candle.

Their flirtations were playful, a back-and-forth of stolen glances and whispered compliments above the din of the festivities. He’d sneak her extra caramels, and she’d embellish his mask with a playful feather. It was a sweet, innocent romance, flavored with the sugar dust of Carnevale.

But fate, as it often does, had another player to introduce. Enter Alessandro, a man as opulent and enigmatic as the Palazzo he called home. He was a Venetian nobleman, his masked face hinting at a life lived in the shadows. His eyes, however, held a spark of something Rose couldn’t quite decipher - a potent mix of sadness and irresistible allure.

Alessandro first noticed Rose sketching in the Piazza San Marco. He was captivated by her focus, her brow furrowed in concentration as she captured the frenetic energy of the Carnevale on paper. He approached her, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

He showered her with lavish compliments, invitations to masquerade balls in crumbling palaces, and promises of a life beyond her wildest dreams. He was a world away from Lorenzo’s simple sweetness, a forbidden fruit tempting Rose with a taste of extravagance.

Torn between the genuine affection of the candy seller and the dangerous allure of the nobleman, Rose found herself caught in a web of secret rendezvous and conflicting desires. Lorenzo offered her a future filled with laughter and shared dreams, a life built on honesty and simple joys. Alessandro offered her a glimpse into a world of unimaginable wealth and power, a chance to step into a storybook romance, albeit one tinged with mystery.

The climax of this Venetian drama unfolded, as all good Carnevale stories should, at a masked ball. Dressed in a gown of shimmering silk, a gift from Alessandro, Rose felt a pang of guilt as she caught Lorenzo’s eye across the crowded ballroom. He stood beside his candy cart, a poignant figure amidst the glittering spectacle. His mask couldn't hide the hurt in his eyes.

Alessandro, oblivious to the silent tension, led Rose onto the dance floor. As they waltzed, he leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. "Choose, Rose," he whispered, his voice a low growl. "Choose this life, choose me."

Rose's heart pounded. The masks, the music, the swirling dancers all blurred into a kaleidoscopic swirl. In that moment, she realized the true mask she had been wearing was the one she had put on for herself, trying to be someone she wasn't.

The answer, when it came, was a surprise even to Rose herself. She pulled away from Alessandro, her eyes meeting Lorenzo's. Without a word, she slipped off her elaborate mask and stepped off the dance floor, leaving Alessandro standing alone.

She walked towards Lorenzo, the weight of her choices suddenly lifted. As she reached him, she took a deep breath and whispered, "Macarons, please."

The ending, perhaps, wasn't the grand, sweeping romance Alessandro had promised. But it was real, it was honest, and it was, in its own way, perfectly sweet. Rose had chosen the genuine warmth of Lorenzo's heart over the gilded cage of Alessandro's world. The Venice Carnevale had shown her that true love wasn't about masks or masquerades, but about finding the person who saw you, truly, beneath them all. And in the end, she had found that person selling sweets by the Rialto Bridge

The costumes of Antonio Arsenale often combine elements from their native France and Venice.

The cage of macaroons held by Rose is easily about 5kg.

A macaroon is a small cake or cookie, originally made from ground almonds, egg whites, and sugar, but now often with coconut or other nuts. They may also include jam, chocolate, or other flavorings.

Legend has it that the humble origins of the macaroon can be traced back to an Italian monastery in the eighth or ninth century. According to Jenifer Harvey Lang's edited culinary encyclopedia "Larousse Gastronomique" (Crown, 1988), the earliest known record dates back to 791 in Commercy, France, where they were prepared at a nearby convent. Another source originated in Italy and arrived in France in 1533 with Catherine de Medici, King Henry II's wife, and her pastry chefs. It is unclear where the first macaroon was made because there was a lot of travel between these two areas due to attacks by different monarchs and empires.  According to the majority of historians, the macaroon was first made in Italy, most likely in Venice, and was brought to France by sailors. There, it was improved using French pastry techniques. 

The Italian word ammaccare, which means to crush, is generally accepted to be the source of the word "macaroon." This alludes to the almond paste that served as its primary ingredient in the past. Beginning in the 7th century, Arab invaders brought almonds to Venice. The cookie was then made by adding sugar and egg whites. In the 15th century, macaroon recipes also made their appearance in Syria under the name Louzieh, which is derived from the Arabic word "Louz," which means almond. Italian Jews modified the recipe to enjoy the cookie on Pesach because it contains neither flour nor leavening. It's unclear exactly when this happened. To give the macaroon more body during Pesach, some people added potato starch. Even though the chewy almond paste variety was consumed all year round, the minhag (custom) eventually spread throughout Europe and continued to be a Pesach treat. Since almond cookies were more difficult to make and transport, they were replaced by coconut by the late 19th century, particularly in North America.

We did a walk around town for some souvenir photos. And as usual, the portraits are just done on the busy streets of Venice and using natural lighting only...