Chevalier of the Ordre des Arts et des Lettres (1970)ĭiana Vreeland (Septem – August 22, 1989) was an American fashion columnist and editor.Chevalier of the Légion d'honneur (1976).We used to say: “There’s no place like home.We now say: “They didn’t have any shampoo, so I got you dish soap.” We used to say: “I know you like your brand of shampoo, but this one was on sale.”.We now say: “I’ll give you three rolls of toilet paper.” We used to say: “How much do I owe you?”.
We used to say: “I have to run errands.We used to say: “I’m not in the mood.”.We used to say: “I love what you did with your hair!”.We used to say: “It’s not you, it’s me.”.We used to say: “Time flies when you’re having fun!”.We now say: “Want to go to the living room?” We used to say: “Want to go to a movie?”.Here are some common phrases that we used as recently as last month followed by their equivalent phrase in the Age of Coronavirus: “There’s never been a blue like the blue of the Duke of Windsor’s eyes.” “All my life I’ve pursued the perfect red.” oh, it’s too beautiful! It’s beauty that’s leaving the world.”
In the most extreme positions one leg goes out, out, out, and then the head comes down, down, down, and the body is moving, quivering, in a death spasm. “I was also taught The Dying Swan, which is the most extraordinary thing because of the tremor that goes through this creature.
On learning the movements of a short ballet: “Naturally, like everybody who drinks too much champagne, she began to get chins.” On Peggy Hopkins Joyce, collector of diamonds and rich husbands: You may not know beans about Diana’s birth or early childhood by page seven, but so what? By God, you’re well-versed in the woman’s pantry passions! Oh, our larder used to be so attractive.” I could take my bed and put it in a larder and sleep with the cheese and the game and the meat and the good smell of butter and earth. Leave it to Vreeland to begin her memoir, by definition a genre dependent upon reflection and affection for the past, with a distaste for nostalgia. Nostalgia –imagine! I don’t believe in anything before penicillin. Described by the New York Times as a “deceptively frothy meringue of a monologue” upon its publication in June of 1984, the memoir is a distillation of the best bits collected by editors George Plimpton and Christopher Hemphill over their hours of interviews with the Grand Dame of fashion magazines in cafes, salons, taxi cabs, and wherever Vreeland decided to drop her many, many names. While reading fashion icon Diana Vreeland’s memoir for the first time in over a decade, I’m happy to say that my love for this bonkers book has been reaffirmed.
0 kommentar(er)
