Mario Cohen of
Brital
by Jilliana
Ranicar-Breese
'Which colour
mobile would you like me to buy for you?' The
voice behind me asked.
I turned around to see a middle aged pleasant
looking well dressed man smiling at me. Thinking
it was a joke I replied with chutzpah that I
would like the shocking pink one! With that it
was taken down and gift wrapped.
This was the 60s and the age of Kinetic Art and
the craze for paper mobiles hanging from the
ceiling were in. Kinetic Art was art from any
medium that contained movement perceivable by the
viewer or depended on motion for its effect. It's
pioneers were Victor Vasarely and Alexander
Calder in 1954.
We were in a gift shop at Schiphol, the airport
of Amsterdam. I was returning from a posh wedding
in Wassenaar. Both our flights were delayed and
so KLM had given us luncheon vouchers. I was
flying to London but my Jewish Italian companion,
Mario Cohen, owner of The Brital Hosiery company
in Buenos Aires, was going home to Montevideo
where he was a resident. I didn't take much
notice when he offered his red and black well
designed business card showing a pair of ladies
legs. I was never going to be going to Argentina,
was I? It was rude not to accept his card, so I
took it for a 'rainy day' not knowing that two
years later I would need it!
Mario Cohen was an exhausted businessman with all
the worries of his life on his shoulders. I
suppose he must have been in his fifties. I was
about 23 and this was mini skirt time. In
fact it would have 1967 or 1968. I recall we
conversed in Italian as well as English. One
thing I observed was he was very lonely. He told
me he had moved out of the marital home and had
more smiles and caring from the staff at his
hotel than from his ex wife. He told me that in a
few weeks he would be coming to London, staying
at The Dorchester and could he take me out to
dinner and the theatre. Well, why not I thought?
So thus I gave him my phone number. Of course in
those early days I didn't have a calling card and
had not yet become 'Jilliana'. I was just plain
Jill, a name I loathed. Even worse was my birth
name of Gillian. I had forgotten my nice middle
name, Tessa.
Having done some research on Google, I learned
that his ex wife became the famous worldwide
socialite billionaire philanthropist Lily Safra
after their divorce. They produced three children
who today have inherited the factory which
produces wholesale expensive hosiery. Lily being
9 years younger than Mario married him in 1951
and divorced him in 1960. I guess if he is still
alive, he would be 91. Lily, however, is still
alive at 82 and had an unauthorised book written
about her controversial life in 2010. I
noted with interest that we share the same
birthday, 30th December so she, too, is a
Capricorn.
And so Mario and I went to the theatre. I recall
he sat to my left in the front stalls. After a
while I felt his hand on my left knee. I remember
gently removing it. Silence reigned and his 'pass'
was never discussed. We had a lavish meal at the
Savoy as it was close to the theatre and that was
that so I thought. Our paths never to cross again.
Of course I had little in common with an
industrialist and of but I had a nice pink mobile
in my bedroom whirling in the air to remember him
by. I was carefree in those days working for
Global Tours, the third largest inbound and
outbound tour operator in the U.K. in the Freddy
Laker days of aviation before Easyjet.
Then an educational tour was offered to me for a
week in Lisbon, Cascais and Estoril. I
decided to go with a work colleague called Carole,
an ex show dancer. By now I spoke A level French
and average Italian which I had studied at
Perugia University in 1966, the year of the
famous Florence floods plus Italian-esque Spanish
after two months hitching through France and
Spain - one of my best adventures yet.
Earlier in the late 50s I had seen a stupid teen
movie with Sandra Dee and Troy Donahue. The
opening shot impressed me. It was the Art Deco
statue of Christ in Rio de Janiero overlooking
the Sugar Loaf mountain. I said to myself 'I will
go there'.
I bought the mini Berlitz phrase book which had
phonetic pronunciation as I wanted to speak
enough Portuguese for the trip. I rushed down to
the Portuguese Tourist office for a map of Lisbon.
The handsome manager said to me and I quote,
'If there is anything I can help you with, don't
hesitate to ask.'
I produced my phrase book like a magician and
said I wanted him to teach me the basic
pronunciation in readiness for my trip. Rather
amazed at my boldness, he tried to get out of it
declaring he was from Madeira and he had a
different accent. What did I care? I
manipulated him into spending a few lunch hours
with sandwiches until I had 'mastered' the basics.
Then I was off for an exciting week which would
change the course of my life. I heard Bossa Nova
music and remembered Corcovado. That was it. I
was going to emigrate to Rio! Travel not as a
tourist but emigrate! I had that in my head
without researching the country! Young girls of
24 in 1968 did not go off into the wilderness
without 'connections'. I had none!!!
In the old days, one bought a ticket with mileage
going to the furthest point. Buenos Aires was
that point. But the fare in 1968 was £450 and I
didn't have that kind of money. However, I knew
that if I stayed a minimum of 2 years with Global,
I would only have to pay 10% of the fare. So I
stayed on and went to the Casa do Brazil to learn
Brazilian Portuguese. Portuguese with sugar they
called it and it was the most beautiful language
that tugged at my heart strings and still does
today.
I found Mario's card and wrote to him by hand on
a blue aerogramme. Did he remember me I wrote?
How could he forget me he wrote back! I asked him
to find me a room with an Italian family in BA,
that I would be coming in September and knew at
that point no one. He had to be my saviour! He
wrote back he would see me when he returned from
Uruguay and would send Nilda, his PA to meet me
at the airport. I flew with Aerolineas Argentinas
from London to Sao Paolo, Ascuncion and finally
BA. Now here comes the synchronicity bit. The
flight magazine had a full page article of the
industrialist of the month. None less than Mario
Cohen of the successful hosiery company Brital
with his black and white photograph looking in
command and dynamic.
True to his word, he organised and paid for two
nights in a hotel, in his absence, with Nilda to
be my companion but after that - nada! I was
alone in the big city. Armed with only the
Frommer guide, 'South America on $5 a day', which
got me into the red light district, the zona
rossa, by accident, I only saw the elusive Mario
Cohen for dinner two months later on my last
night before moving on to Sao Paolo and finally
the city of my teen dreams - Rio.
Written
in the Roman Boutique Hotel, Paphos, Cyprus on 9/1/17.
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