” I have two loves … My country and Paris “, sings the immortal Joséphine while chic ladies, first-class traveler style of the Panam of the 1950s, rush into the cave of the Costume Institute of the Metropolitan Museum, Fifth Avenue, New York. Great mass of fashion celebrated by the living God of Western elegance, Yves Saint Laurent, whose twenty-five years of creation are exhibited. Consecration orchestrated by the media (” The New York Times », ” Time », television channels), billionaires, stars (Mlle Deneuve, of course) and the cultural services of the French Embassy who, in the sublime little private mansion that houses them, opposite the Met (the hotel in question was Mr. Whitney’s gift to his daughter; Miss Whitney was varnished), organized another Saint Laurent exhibition, but this one of drawings and theater costumes, from Zizi Jeanmaire to Madeleine Renaud in “Savannah Bay” by the way by Johnny Hallyday and Sylvie Vartan. High Priestess of the Met Ceremony: Mrs. Diana Vreeland, former director of “ vogue » And ” Harper’s Bazaar » (it was she who discovered a little New Yorker called Lauren Bacall and it is thanks to her that Miss Bacall became the mythical figure that we know), the savvy director of fashion in the United States, director of the Costume Institute precisely, and recognized as the worst language of Manhattan.
His publisher, Doubleday, despairs of publishing his Memoirs, a despair not entirely shared by
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