Every year in May, Mum and Dud would fly off to the Cannes Film Festival, leaving us in the hands of our 19 year old Austrian/French/Swedish au pair for three weeks.
We’d see them off, standing on the front steps of our house waving a solumn goodbye with abandoned looks on our faces, and tears twinkling in our eyes. But the minute the taxi turned the corner, we’d run inside, crank up the music, open dada’s prized Popov and Majorska collection (only the classiest vodka’s in the Kaufman houshold) and three-weeks of partying, boozing, and house trashing would begin!
All these years we thought WE, the kids were the badasses… turns out we were wrong. Instead of slaving away at Cannes “peddling the goods” to pay for our tuition, as Daddy likes to say, Mom and Pops were partying it up with lesbo parades, all night ragers, and “ganja blowouts.”
Here’s the proof: check out this double interview of the ‘rents on MovieMaker about their 4 decades of Cannes experience: