But I recognize that fashion now is all over the place—seductive, daring, minimal, maximal—and there is no one look anymore. In my day there was the Balenciaga soft suit, the Dior New Look, the Yves Saint Laurent fantasy and colors, the Chanel jacket. Each house had a unique head-to-toe look. Today, anything goes because we all seem to be in a reality show of our own casting and are desperate for the cameras to follow us. (Hey, if a woman called Snooki from New Jersey can become a TV star, there’s hope for us all. And I was born in New Jersey—but to noble Austrian parents, of course.)
It’s whatever a woman feels like wearing and whom she wants to be—and that can change from hour to hour. Gridlock in fashion is over, which is a fantastic opportunity for designers young and old alike, and for women, who can be as wild and savage as they want in fashion. (Or in anything else. Rowwwrrrr.)
It’s all a new reality, and the game is not to look like everyone else. Live to be daring and suffer the consequences. It all comes down to the fact that clothes are just accessories to a woman’s charms and a man’s appeal.
Ah, I’m out of the gridlock at last. Merci beaucoup! But now I face going up the Avenue Foch and the battle of the Arc de Triomphe. It’s every man (or woman) for himself.
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall: As I wrote last month, I have begun a club. The latest inductee is Nancy Pelosi. To quote Macbeth, “Double, double toil and trouble.” There will be plenty more to come!
