Much has been written about the heady, hedonistic Paris fashion scene of the 1970s and '80s, and much of it is true. But of all the characters who animated those nonconformist, wildly indulgent, hyperinventive years, Loulou de la Falaise, who died in 2011 at the age of 64, was the star. Celebrated for inspiring and accessorizing Yves Saint Laurent's couture and ready-to-wear collections for almost three decades, she is the subject of ' Loulou de la Falaise,' a new book by Ariel de Ravenel and Natasha Fraser-Cavassoni.
From 1975 to 1990, I lived and worked in Paris as a reporter for Women's Wear Daily, where I had a ringside seat to Loulou's transformation from the haute-bohemian daughter of a French marquis and the eccentric British model Maxime de la Falaise into Saint Laurent's trusted muse and a designer in her own right. For those of us who watched her at work and play, she was not simply Yves's most colorful collaborator, but one of the most vivid female fashion personalities since Coco Chanel.
Upbeat, savvy, beautiful and boyishly slim, she looked like a Saint Laurent fashion sketch. How she put herself together was even more remarkable: When she arrived at about 9 a.m. every day to the YSL couture studios on Paris's Right Bank, it was an event. The pants, jackets, skirts, blouses, dresses, stockings, shoes, shawls, bags and jewelry that she assembled and donned each morning in her 14th Arrondissement apartment were unlike anything anyone else in Paris wore, or had ever seen. Heiresses, countesses, models, movie stars and scores of fashion editors wanted to look like Loulou. Whether she was channeling an 18th-century Indian princess, a pre-Soviet Russian peasant or a 20th-century East Village flower child, her getups went beyond costume. They looked fresh, contemporary. She didn't dress up to wow the paparazzi (although she was photographed countless times), but rather to delight herself, surprise her friends and, most crucially, impress Yves.
Loulou, Yves and my editor at WWD, John Fairchild, were great buddies. A mutual admiration society of three fashion titans, they also challenged and teased each other mercilessly. I can't remember a single season over two decades that John and I didn't meet at the YSL headquarters to take photos of a new ready-to-wear collection in progress, inspect a sketch of a couture gown or watch a model being fitted for a tuxedo jacket and pants. At work, Loulou and Yves weren't very chatty; they communicated in a sort of code. The way she flicked her hair back, extinguished a Camel or uncrossed her colt-like legs sent a signal to Yves, who watched her constantly. He would then pick up a pencil, pause, adjust his glasses, and Loulou would get whatever message he was sending back to her. When she laughed - heartily and from the throat - everyone in the room cracked up too. It was hard not to want to do what Loulou did. At times, the normally self-possessed, sometimes imperious John was so smitten that he couldn't speak.
I wonder if Loulou's charm was rooted in her odd sense of self. At once disciplined, rambunctious, confident and vulnerable, I suspect that she wasn't totally convinced of her power or beauty. She was impish and fun, never condescending or snappy. She looked artistic, and sounded worldly and intelligent in either English or French. She loved all-night parties, didn't exercise and smoked like a San Bernardino wildfire, but then so did everyone else in Paris those days. Ditto for the drinks and drugs, which were also pretty ubiquitous in those stylish Parisian circles.
And although she excelled at socializing with Rothschilds and the Rolling Stones, she seemed happier when she was with Yves, her reserved husband Thadée Klossowski de Rola - a writer and son of the painter Balthus - and their daughter, Anna. Their wedding party, in June of 1977, was staged on an island in the Bois de Boulogne in Paris. Several hundred guests arrived in a fleet of flower-garlanded boats. Loulou wore a deep delphinium blue outfit with a headdress sprouting stars and a crescent moon.
As Loulou and Thadée got older, they spent more and more time in Italy at his family's sparsely furnished castle. Toward the end of her life, she became an avid gardener, tending the property at their French country house in Boury-en-Vexin. During her last few years, she designed a collection of jewelry for Oscar de la Renta and a line of clothing and accessories for HSN. Thadée stayed home and wrote - he was always the grounded one, Loulou the live wire. Even though she's gone, she's as electrifying now as ever.
0 Comment "The Real Deal"
Posting Komentar