… Coco Chanel


André Malraux

Haute couture has long struck me as residing somewhere on the scale of human endeavor between useless and obnoxious. Yet I've been fascinated for years by the figure of Coco Chanel, an ambivalent figure if ever there was one, and somehow, for me, the incarnation of a peculiar breed of Parisian. I once had the privilege, usually reserved for VIPs and big spenders, of visiting Coco's private hideaway in the Rue Cambon in Paris. Ever since, certain Paris places associated with Coco have echoed with a special resonance for me: the Rue de Rivoli and its unchanging Angélina tearoom; the Rue Cambon, Place Vendôme and Ritz Hotel. She was not just a denizen of the Golden Triangle for some sixty years, until her death in 1971. She was its archetype and mistress.

Arbiter of unfeminine yet unmistakably female elegance for half a century, lover of men both rich and famous, Coco cut and shaped her past like a suit of clothes…