The pages take us on a chronological journey through her career from 1936 to 1962. As we move along we see the evolution of fashion within the context of the world it inhabited. We see Vreeland’s brilliance, her comprehension of the culture of the pre- and post-war years and the radical societal changes culminating in the Pop 60s.
When I was in Paris earlier this week, I saw the most exuberant signal that spring has finally arrived: the chestnut trees in full bloom. I was conscious, once again, of that crystalline light that I associate with the city in printemps, particularly after the long, gray winter.
The city comes alive when the weather turns sparkly crisp. With the sun high and bright, a shimmery light makes everything glitter with an almost palpable excitement. It’s impossible to explain—it’s in the air, it’s electric, it’s irresistible.
As Ernest Hemingway famously said: “Though I often looked for one, I finally had to admit that there could be no cure for Paris.” In my opinion, Paris is the cure for just about everything, and that includes Christmas ennui.
Why do French women d’un certain age tend to look better than the rest of us? For clues, I turned to some friends and acquaintances I’ve known for 25 years.
French men do not like to be told a specific date on which they are required, by convention, to be romantic—to buy a gift, extend an invitation, present a bouquet, or find a box of chocolates. Non, non, et non.