"In France, sex is embedded in the national conversation."
Too many women believe pleasure isn’t for them – a mindset shaped by cultural silence and shame, writes sexologist Marie Morice.
Recently, a 52-year-old woman came to me for help. She told me she’d been with her husband for over 30 years but had never had an orgasm during sex. “I just assumed that part of me was broken,” she said.
Sadly, that belief – that pleasure isn’t for them – is something I hear again and again from women as a French sexologist living and working in Britain. So many women, particularly in this country, struggle with allowing themselves to ask, want and feel.
The contrast with the confidence I see when I’m in France is stark. At a workshop I was running in Paris last year, a woman in her early 60s told a room of other women, matter-of-factly: “Of course I still masturbate – I’d never rely on a man for that.” The whole group laughed, not in embarrassment, but in solidarity. For her, sexual pleasure was just part of life, like good food or good company.
And the differing attitudes towards sex in France and Britain aren’t confined to women. The entire cultures surrounding the subject are poles apart. Whenever sex is mentioned here, there’s an underlying current of prudishness which often manifests as a blush, a giggle – or, as I’ve experienced many times, a total shut-down of the conversation.
In France, sex is embedded in the national conversation. It’s not seen as smutty, or risqué, to talk about it; it’s not shrouded in nudge, nudge, wink, wink innuendo. People are far more open about the importance they place on it.
We have a reputation for infidelity, but in my experience, French people don’t necessarily have more affairs. There’s less moral panic and more acceptance that eroticism and commitment can be complex, especially over the course of decades. Desire can ebb and flow within relationships – but being unafraid to talk about the subject means the French report feeling more sexually fulfilled, regardless of how long the relationship lasts.
I trained to become a certified sexologist to help midlife women in similar situations to mine. Like so many of my clients now, I went through a divorce in 2019, after 17 years of marriage and two children, and wanted to explore my sexuality. I remember thinking, “I wish I had someone to talk to about how to navigate these very turbulent years I’m going through”, and that so many other women must be feeling the same.
I embarked on a journey of sexual rediscovery, including having fun with younger men before meeting my current partner. My adventures taught me that pleasure isn’t about performance, but truth. Being honest about what I wanted, on my own terms, was about learning to be sexual again, for myself. My confidence improved – in every aspect of my life – along with my sense of overall wellness.
Inspired, I qualified as a life coach at first, then quit my 25-year career leading global campaigns in sustainable finance at institutions including the WWF, Barclays and the UN. I decided to devote myself to helping women who, whether in long-term relationships or single, are hungry for something more but lack the tools to go after it.
Most people have heard of sex therapists, who help treat sexual dysfunction. Sexology is different. I’m not a therapist or medical professional, but a coach, who helps clients explore their goals around their sex lives and find solutions to attain them.
In France, pleasure isn’t seen as a luxury, but a life force; something for everybody at every stage of life, rather than the preserve of the young and beautiful. The Pleasure Atelier, the workshop for women I founded in Paris and am now bringing to London, is based on this principle. It’s a space for women to have a glass of champagne and learn about ways to reconnect to their erotic selves, on their own terms.
Here’s what I believe other people can learn from the French about how to reignite their sexual spark.
When you think of a celebrity British people deem sexy, chances are you’re picturing a lissom young thing. The culture here encourages us to think of women, in particular, as sexual beings only when they’re youthful, with taut skin and no responsibilities. The moment women have children, or go through menopause, they’re placed in another box: now nurturers, not creatures of desire.
One woman in her late 40s came to me after her children had left home. She said: “I’ve spent my whole life being everything to everyone else. I don’t even know what I want any more.” It’s common for my British clients to feel they’ve lost their identity as they’ve grown older.
In France, there are many more role models of older women who exude sexiness, are vocal about sex and portray characters continuing to enjoy it. Think of Sylvie in the Netflix series Emily In Paris, played by 62-year-old Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu, or the 72-year-old actress Isabelle Huppert. They’re chic, sophisticated women who continue to take their sexuality seriously, and seeing them inspires French women to expect the same for themselves.
French women embrace the freedom of midlife and beyond, once their children are older – it’s a time for us. Rediscovering yourself as a sexual being is essential to keep sex alive in long-term relationships, and it starts with not writing yourself off because you’ve hit un certain age.
The cliches about Parisian women are broadly true: they often restrict their diets to remain rail-thin and rarely mention the menopause – quelle horreur! There’s a vanity and pressure to stay sexually desirable which I wouldn’t want British women to emulate.
But there’s also an innate sense of ourselves as sexual beings that I would like British women to embrace. It’s in how we dress, how we speak, how we take up space. It’s a mindset of self-worth. For too long here, from the boorish lad’s mag culture of the 1990s to the current prevalence of Only Fans and porn, the conversation has centred around male pleasure, and women fulfilling male fantasies. French women, by contrast, view themselves as just as worthy of satisfaction.
It might sound trivial, but wearing beautiful underwear under your everyday clothes, taking a moment to spritz perfume or lighting a candle can be a powerful reminder that you’re deserving of pleasure. Make yourself your own fantasy.
In Paris, there’s a chain of female-friendly sex stores called Passage du Desir, which are a world away from the seedy sex shops found in London’s Soho. They’re an example of how sex is woven into the fabric of everyday life there, and how normal it is for French women to pop out and buy a sex toy. Sex toys are advertised on mainstream television and discussed endlessly in newspaper articles.
My British clients have often lost touch with any kind of sensory pleasure, so I ask them to start small. Take a moment to feel the sun on your face, drink an ice-cold glass of rosé or listen to a song you love – whatever feels enjoyable for you. The more in tune you are with your own body, the more pleasure you allow in.
Desire isn’t shameful, it’s human – and we French know that the more we talk about it, the more empowered we become.
Here in Britain, I often hear women complaining that their partners don’t satisfy them. Sometimes, if the issues between them begin outside the bedroom – women are often seething with years of pent-up resentment over their partner’s behaviour – I suggest couples’ counselling; some tell me outright that they hate their husband, and that’s not conducive to reigniting the spark.
Often, though, it’s a case of years, sometimes decades, passing by with women hoping their partners will somehow intuitively know how to please them, without ever being told. I know it can feel daunting, but we have a responsibility to help guide them, and in my experience, most decent men are happy to learn.
I encourage clients to write a fantasy list, starting with “I’ve always wanted to…” Then I help them work up the courage to tell their partner one thing they want. Most of the time, he is delighted – and once that barrier has been crossed, it’s much easier next time.