Pete Doherty, the name synonymous with chaotic rock ‘n’ roll, tabloid headlines, and a certain brand of British bohemianism, found himself in a surprisingly serene setting: a Parisian attic apartment. Far from the madding crowds of London, amidst Balzac novels and candlelight, Doherty, the former frontman of The Libertines and Babyshambles, was attempting a different kind of performance – a personal reinvention. This is Paris Pete, as the article from The Guardian portrays him, a man wrestling with his past notoriety while tentatively stepping into new artistic territories. And like any good rock icon, his story isn’t just written in lyrics and headlines, but also etched in ink. While the article doesn’t explicitly detail a “libertine tattoo,” the spirit of libertinism – freedom, excess, and a rejection of societal constraints – is arguably tattooed all over Pete Doherty’s persona, and subtly hinted at in the ink he does bear, like the prominent “Astile” neck tattoo. Let’s delve into the world of Pete Doherty in Paris, exploring the layers of his libertine image, his struggles, and the quiet revolution he seems to be staging, one cigarette and whispered French phrase at a time.
Paris Pete: A Libertine in the City of Lights
Four years prior to the article, Doherty traded the frenetic energy of London for the more contemplative atmosphere of Paris. This wasn’t just a change of scenery; it was a strategic retreat in what was described as a “long, difficult quest to get clean.” Paris, however, presents a curious paradox for someone battling addiction. While it’s a city of art and romance, it also carries the ghost of rock ‘n’ roll excess, most notably in the tragic tale of Jim Morrison. The specter of Morrison, who also hailed from a strict background and met his end in Paris at 27, hangs heavy, a cautionary tale for any rocker seeking solace or oblivion in the French capital.
Despite the inherent challenges, Paris offered Doherty a different stage. Away from the relentless scrutiny of the British tabloids, he could explore his artistic inclinations beyond music. Poetry, painting, and even arthouse cinema beckoned. This move to Paris can be seen as a conscious effort to redefine himself, to shed the “tabloid whipping-boy” image and cultivate a more nuanced, artistic identity. Yet, the article poignantly reveals that even in the romantic setting of Paris, the grip of heroin addiction remained. The “libertine” lifestyle, often romanticized as one of freedom and abandon, reveals its darker side in Doherty’s ongoing struggle.
Despite the internal turmoil, Parisian music insiders observed a surprising “gentlemanly” politeness in Doherty. This juxtaposition – the notorious rocker with a reputation for chaos and the courteous demeanor – highlights the complexities of his personality. He embodies the romantic ideal of the libertine, yet beneath the surface, there’s a vulnerability and a yearning for something more stable.
Doherty’s past relationship with Kate Moss at Glastonbury in 2007, a period heavily documented by the media, contributed significantly to his “libertine” image, often overshadowing his artistic endeavors.
Ink and Identity: The “Astile” Tattoo and Fatherhood
The raw point of family is brought into sharp focus with the mention of Doherty’s neck tattoo: “Astile.” This is the name of his son with singer Lisa Moorish. This visible declaration of fatherhood, etched permanently onto his skin, stands in stark contrast to the chaotic narrative often associated with him. He admits to never having lived with Astile and even avoided seeing him due to his addiction. The “Astile” tattoo, therefore, becomes a poignant symbol of both connection and distance, a permanent reminder of a responsibility he struggles to fully embrace amidst his personal battles.
His relationship with his own father, an army major who publicly criticized him, adds another layer to this complex family dynamic. His father’s refusal to see him until he overcomes his addiction underscores the profound impact of Doherty’s choices on his personal relationships. The sadness that crosses Doherty’s face when speaking of his father reveals a deep-seated yearning for familial acceptance, a desire that clashes with the self-destructive patterns of his “libertine” lifestyle. While not a “libertine tattoo” in design, the “Astile” ink becomes entangled with the themes of freedom and responsibility inherent in the libertine concept – the freedom to choose one’s path versus the responsibilities that come with family and connection.
From Rock Star to Arthouse Actor: Reinventing the Libertine Image
Doherty’s foray into acting with “Confession of a Child of the Century” marks a significant attempt to reshape his public image. The film, based on a novel by 19th-century French poet Alfred de Musset, sees Doherty playing a character that mirrors aspects of his own life. He acknowledges that he is “virtually playing himself,” a character who sabotages love and relationships, embodying a self-destructive tendency often associated with the libertine archetype. This blurring of lines between his real persona and his on-screen role further complicates the “libertine tattoo” he wears, making it harder to distinguish performance from reality.
Sylvie Verheyde, the film’s director, becomes a crucial figure in Doherty’s Parisian life, acting as a surrogate family. Her support and understanding offer a stark contrast to the judgment and criticism he often faces. Verheyde’s apartment becomes a refuge, a space where Doherty can temporarily escape the pressures of his public persona. This unconventional “family” unit highlights the themes of chosen family and unconventional relationships often found within libertine narratives.
Despite harsh reviews for the film, Doherty enjoys a cult hero status in France. He is embraced as the quintessential British rock star, a “misunderstood romantic.” The constant comparisons to Serge Gainsbourg, France’s own legendary, heavy-drinking, musical poet-provocateur, solidify this image. His “Old Albion Englishness” – the literary allusions, the pork-pie hat, the quirky expressions – which might seem affected in London, are celebrated in France. He consciously plays up the “Englishman-in-Paris” tag, further crafting and performing his “libertine” identity for a French audience.
The Libertine Myth: Embracing and Resisting the “Bad Reputation”
Doherty exhibits a complex relationship with his “bad reputation,” a reputation that has become almost synonymous with the term “libertine” in the public consciousness. He seems both to hate and be unable to resist it, even nurturing and embellishing it at times. The anecdote about being supposedly banned from the French railway SNCF, stemming from a blog post about missing uniforms and cutlery, exemplifies this. Whether true or fabricated, the story reinforces the image of Doherty as a charming rogue, a chaotic figure operating outside the norms of conventional society – a key characteristic of the libertine persona.
He acknowledges a tendency to “fall for my own mythology,” suggesting a self-awareness of the constructed nature of his public image. He also expresses a sense of being disliked, feeling the need to prove himself in Paris, even resorting to a confrontational stance when he feels challenged. This suggests an internal struggle: a desire for acceptance and recognition clashing with the self-perpetuating cycle of his “bad reputation.” The “libertine tattoo,” in this sense, becomes a double-edged sword – a source of fascination and notoriety, but also a barrier to genuine connection and personal peace.
The Struggle for Sobriety: A Libertine’s Quest for “Salvation”
Beneath the carefully constructed image and the Parisian escapades, the article reveals Doherty’s deeply personal battle with addiction. His attempts to get clean are described as a “quest for salvation.” He acknowledges the destructive nature of his lifestyle, recognizing that “it’s not actually that exciting to be fucked up all the time.” He even expresses a newfound appreciation for the “exotic” rush of a good night’s sleep, a stark contrast to the romanticized image of the perpetually intoxicated libertine.
The metaphor of debauchery as “freefall” without handrails perfectly encapsulates the dangerous allure of the libertine lifestyle. He recognizes the need for “self-control” as the “only way to salvation,” signaling a shift in perspective, a yearning for stability and health. However, this realization is tempered with uncertainty, as he admits, “I’m going to give it a good go, but…” This inherent ambiguity reflects the ongoing struggle and the precarious nature of his journey towards recovery. The “libertine tattoo,” if we consider his persona as such, is now being challenged, questioned, and perhaps, slowly overwritten by a desire for a different kind of existence.
Encounters with French Royalty: Gainsbourg and Bruni
Doherty’s interactions with French cultural figures, Charlotte Gainsbourg and Carla Bruni, offer further insights into his complex persona and his place in the French artistic landscape. His relationship with Charlotte Gainsbourg, daughter of Serge Gainsbourg, is described as awkward and intense, almost like “terrible family therapy.” The comparison to Serge Gainsbourg, the ultimate French “libertine,” is a recurring motif, highlighting both the admiration and the pressure Doherty feels in this context. The diary incident, where Doherty reads Gainsbourg’s private thoughts about him, underscores the volatile and unpredictable nature of their connection.
His encounter with Carla Bruni, then First Lady of France, reveals a surprising shared vulnerability: stage fright. This unexpected connection humanizes both figures, stripping away the layers of fame and notoriety. Bruni’s devotion to Nicolas Sarkozy, as described by Doherty, presents a contrasting image to the chaotic relationships often associated with the “libertine” lifestyle, perhaps hinting at Doherty’s own underlying desire for lasting connection and devotion, despite his self-destructive tendencies.
Conclusion: The Evolving Tattoo of a Libertine
Pete Doherty’s story in Paris is one of ongoing transformation. He remains a figure defined by contradictions: the “gentlemanly” rocker struggling with addiction, the cult hero wrestling with self-doubt, the “libertine” yearning for salvation. While there may not be a literal “libertine tattoo” on his skin, his entire persona, his history, and his artistic expressions can be viewed as an evolving, complex tattoo – a story etched in ink, shaped by experience, and constantly being rewritten. His journey in Paris is far from over, and whether he can fully shed the darker aspects of his libertine image remains to be seen. But in the quiet of his Parisian attic, amidst the echoes of literary and musical giants, Pete Doherty, the tattooed libertine, continues to write his next chapter.
