Très Chic

Hi, Dear Readers.  It’s great to be back.  Before we plunge into timely matters, first I have to rave a bit about my all-too-brief encounter with my happy place- Aspen.

I had my usual mid-winter blast. The weather! The scenery! The skiing!  The après-skiing! The friends- old and new.  It was exhilarating.  So a big shout out has to go to my buddy, Kevin Gibson.  You’re the host with the most, Kev.  Thank you for everything.

Okay and now back to the sad business at hand. Some in memoriams.

Stephen Hawking’s death left a black hole (no pun intended) in the world of theoretical physicists- and the world in general.  We need brilliant men of science to be our inspirations.  Our heroes can’t always be quarterbacks or rap stars.  And Dr. Hawking’s personal bravery and refusal to be downed by the horrible medical fact of  his ALS diagnosis resonated with people like me who never met a math test she ever liked.

And he had a great sense of humor.  He wasn’t afraid to poke fun at himself.

Q.E.D.

And RIP, Dr. Hawking.  The firmament will burn brighter now that your supernova has ascended.

Another supernova in a different universe has left us, too.  And this is a universe that I know a whole lot better than the world of quantum physics.

We now must say sad adieux to fashion designer Hubert de Givenchy.

He died March 10 at the age of 91 at a hospital in Paris and I think it only fitting that the world don a little black dress in mourning for him.

After all, he invented it.

His legendary meeting with his muse, Audrey Hepburn, changed movies- and my life, too.

It was 1967 and I walked into a perfume shop in Madison, Wisconsin.  Heretofore I had been wearing a fragrance called Casaque.

It smelled delightful and my boyfriend liked it but I wanted something even more alluring.  But I didn’t want to be influenced by television commercials or name brands.  Hence I decided on a “blind tasting.”

I had the saleswoman cover all the labels and I started spraying and sniffing away.

And then I stopped.

I had found my “signature scent.”

Fate- and my nose- had led to my idol, Audrey Hepburn and L’Interdit– the parfum Givenchy had invented just for her.

That was the beginning of my menage-a-trois with la belle Audrey and the handsome Monsieur Le Comte.

I adored every article of on-screen clothing their partnership created.

Sabrina, Funny Face, Love in The Afternoon, Charade, How To Steal A Million all served as how-to primers for me in the art of looking elegant.  They were my style icons and the look he created for her still seems timeless, effortless and classically beautiful.

I also had the great good fortune to meet both Miss Hepburn and M. Givenchy.  I can’t recall too much about my introduction to Audrey.  It was at a benefit for the Alliance Française and all I can recall now is babbling sheer nonsense when presented to her.

“I love you so much.  You are my inspiration.  I never thought I would ever get a chance to meet you…”

Stuff like that.

In French, no less.

(Truth be told, I could have been saying, “You look like a submarine.  Can I get you a sandwich?” or words to that effect.  I was incoherent with rapture.)

But I do remember my meeting with Givenchy.

It was at another black tie benefit here in Chicago and I had just flown in from Hong Kong.

And I had nothing to wear.

Oh sure I had plenty of fancy evening gowns suitable for the occasion.

But nothing by Givenchy- save my perfume.

I didn’t want to meet him wearing another designer and so I went in any entirely different direction.

While I was in Hong Kong, I had a tailor make me a cheongsam.

I decided to wear it that night.

When it was my turn to be presented, I was nervous.  After all, what would this great man think of my audacity in NOT wearing a dress by Givenchy?

He looked me up and down.

And then he pronounced.

“Très chic!‘ he said.

That was it.

Now I could die and go to heaven.

After all, I now knew what I wanted to be written on my tombstone.

Adieux, mes amies.

Repose en paix.