At the Salon of 1787, Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun shocked France with her latest work: a self-portrait depicting the artist, smiling sweetly, with her young daughter on her lap. The portrait caused an uproar amongst polite French society. A popular gossip rag, <em>Mémoires Secrets</em> claimed that ‘this affectation is particularly out of place in a mother.’<sup>1</sup><br><br>In an age when laughing was an activity strictly reserved for peasants, the painter scandalised the aristocracy with her portrait, showing her open-mouthed and smiling. To modern audiences, there seems to be little to offend. Her teeth are white and even, her smile sweet, and her countenance pleasant. However, in the early 1700s, prolific portrait sitters preferred to hide their blackened teeth from posterity behind tightly-pursed lips. At the time, sugar consumption in France was astronomical. This, along with mercury treatments for syphilis, had ruined many of the aristocracy’s teeth.<br><br>In 1703, the renowned priest, St Jean-Baptiste de la Salle decreed in <em>The Rules of Christian Decorum and Civility</em> that <br><blockquote>This is entirely contradictory to decorum, which forbids you to allow your teeth to be uncovered, since nature gave us lips to conceal them.<sup>2</sup></blockquote><br> <br>Public outrage did little to deter Vigée Le Brun; she continued to bare her teeth in later works. Her approach reflected a radical way of thinking, where the expression of emotion was more overt and daring than ever before. With her dazzling smile, Vigée Le Brun led her own quiet revolution.<br>