The Duchess Of Windsor, page 59
The Duchess of Windsor was one of the twentieth century’s most stylish and elegant women. Along with Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and Diana, Princess of Wales, she became one of the most celebrated fashion icons of her age. Wallis was named to the world’s best-dressed list for over four decades, a singular accomplishment equaled by no other woman. “She elevated sobriety to an art form,” declared the French magazine Elle upon her death in 1986.2
She had always stood apart from members of her husband’s family, and nowhere was this more evident than in her appearance. Wallis took pride in knowing that she set styles, was named to best-dressed lists, and maintained her figure into her seventies, accomplishments which stood in great contrast to her sister-in-law Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother. “She has the most awful taste,” Wallis confided to a friend. “With her shape, it’s no wonder she wears those hanging tents and frumpy hats—she has to do something to distract attention. Every time I see pictures of her, I have to laugh—I think it can’t get worse—but then it does.”3
Wallis had always taken great care with her appearance. Even as a girl, when her friends sported brand-new store-bought fashions and she had been forced to wear handmade dresses, Wallis was always immaculately turned out. It was a trait she carefully nursed throughout her life. Lady Diana Cooper, writing of Wallis in the 1930s, declared: “She was always correctly dressed, never funny, never slouchy, never don’t care, always right and wearing pearls.”4
“The royalty stuff is very demanding on clothes,” Wallis confessed to her aunt Bessie in the midst of her relationship with the Prince of Wales.5 Even on Ernest’s limited income, she managed to cultivate a certain elegant chic, restrained yet exotic, from which she rarely deviated. Though she inevitably favored the simplest of clothes, they were always of the best materials, of the most flattering cut, and somehow worn with a self-confidence which made them all the more attractive. “I began with my own personal ideas about style,” the Duchess told Fleur Cowles in 1966. “I’ve never again felt correct in anything but the severe look I developed then.”6
This look, adopted during her time in London, followed the fashion trends of the day: slinky gowns of lamé, crepe, and satin, cut on the bias and draped seductively around her petite frame, emphasizing her waiflike figure. In the thirties, her favorite designers were Mainbocher and Schiaparelli. Mainbocher produced plain, almost austere clothes that served as admirable backgrounds to Wallis’s dazzling collection of jewels. She also favored clean lines for another reason: Wallis knew that with her angular face and boyish figure, plain clothing was likely to complement rather than contrast. “In my opinion,” she wrote, “there is only one important rule about clothes: it is that they should be so simple and unobtrusive as to seem unimportant. Simplicity of line, relieved from plainness by richness of fabric and elegance of detail, is my golden rule.”7
The impression was almost always favorable. In June 1944, American Mercury magazine reported:
The Duchess gives the impression of terrific neatness, not a hair out of place, not a line awry. Her nose never shines. Her slip never shows. She looks like a period room done by a furniture house, a room in which nobody lives comfortably. Figuratively speaking, there are no ashes on her rugs, no papers lying around, no blinds askew. To give a real picture of the Duchess, I must describe her clothes. In them—it sounds harsh, but it is true—a large part of her personality resides. And she spares no effort to put it there. She has lost none of her flair for style. It has become one of her prime passions. She is proud to be called the best-dressed woman in the world. It is a profession with her. She enjoys setting the style. She has launched many fashions. The vogue for high-necked evening gowns, for example, may be traced directly to her—she wears them because of her flat-chested and boyish figure.8
Throughout her forty years in the public eye, Wallis continually kept up with the latest fashion trends and designers. In the 1950s, once the Windsors had comfortably settled in Paris, the Duchess turned to Christian Dior, Balenciaga, and Chanel. Hubert de Givenchy became a favorite in the sixties, as did Marc Bohan at Dior, Valentino, Madame Grès, and Emilio Pucci, with his vibrant, colorful prints. Some of these fashions worked well on Wallis, while others—notably the full-skirted New Look dresses from Dior in the mid-1950s—did not. But Wallis never gave up her taste for experimentation, whether it led to a brief dalliance with pants suits in the late 1950s or miniskirts in the 1960s.
Wallis usually devoted several weeks each spring and fall to the Paris couture collections. “It takes me a while to come to final decisions,” she explained. “I return to the various showings at least three and often four times, and therefore, I have the advantage of seeing not only the clothes but sharply contrasting audiences.”9
There were also frequent visits to her favorite designers. Wallis would spend hours at the couture houses; her chef usually packed a small hamper, which contained the Duchess’s lunch: fried chicken, soup in a thermos, and a few sandwiches. Occasionally, if she ran into a friend, she would open the hamper and share her meal between showings or fittings.10
“It was somehow always an event when she came to the salon,” recalled Hubert de Givenchy. “But not a solemn occasion, because she was always smiling and joking.“11 Once she arrived, Wallis reviewed designs, suggesting alternatives, and shared ideas. “My favourite couturier simply can’t start with a blank board each time,” she explained. “The individuals he dresses must regularly inspire his first ideas. I nearly always recognize the dress designed with me in mind.”12
Wallis was not a difficult client, as Mainbocher recalled: “She has always been a joy to fit. She can take a longer fitting at one sitting than most. She has fabulous energy and concentrates on what she’s doing. She’s cooperative. She stands so quietly. She doesn’t intrude until the fitters finish their work. Then she says what she wants. With so many women their reactions can’t wait, and it disconcerts the fitters. She’s also a joy because she takes time to choose, sometimes seeing a collection twice. And she has a fabulous figure, because she’s not that scrawny. She’s what is known as false-thin-slim, but not with a starvation body.”13
Each season, Wallis would select perhaps two or three day suits, two or three day dresses, and several evening gowns. But her rumored extravagance where clothing was concerned is something of a canard: She rarely ordered more than a dozen items each season, alternating her favorite houses according to that year’s collection. Nor did Wallis ever ask for discounts; designers often cut their prices for her, recognizing that publicity from dressing the Duchess of Windsor was worth far more than any income lost. In return, Wallis was always appreciative, dispatching thank-you letters and cards to both designers and staff, along with gold cuff links, tie pins, brooches, and bracelets on holidays.14
Wallis favored blue and black color schemes; occasionally, she wore gray or beige and, for dramatic impact, brilliant reds. In summer, she preferred pale pastels, especially blues, yellows, and lilacs. She disliked tweeds, which she considered too heavy to be comfortable. For a country look, she adopted her husband’s favored tartan patterns: Dior made several long skirts for her in the Royal Family’s Balmoral tartan, Stuart dress tartan, and Stuart old tartan.15 For day wear on the beach and when on the Riviera, she preferred matching bathing gowns and suits, along with colorful wraps, and always coordinated shoes and bathing cap. Wallis rarely wore shorts; instead, there were simple print summer dresses, light, sleeveless designs in pastels, with matching jackets.16
“You have to wear black, aging or not” she told Fleur Cowles, “because when the little black dress is right, there is nothing else to wear in its place.”17 But Wallis’s idea of black stretched to include white trims, gold braiding and scallops, and exotic hints of the Far East in Mandarin-inspired detailing. She often picked designs from the pret a porter collections and took her chances; occasionally, this resulted in some uncomfortable moments, as when the Duchess, elegantly attired in a blue-and-white-striped Givenchy sheath dress entered a party only to discover eight other women also wearing the same outfit. But Wallis merely laughed and made the women form a conga line through the room and be photographed together.18
Wallis often wore favorite items from her wardrobe. “You can wear a dress that’s twenty years old,” she explained, “but it must be immaculate. And it cannot have a wrinkle. You must always look like you just stepped out of a bandbox.”19 She told one fashion writer that her Dior cape was three years old, “and what’s more you’re going to see it for three years more. Prices are frightful in Paris. You have to buy less and wear them longer and more often.”20 One of her maids, packing for a trip to Palm Beach, informed the Duchess, “Madame, some of these evening dresses have gone to Palm Beach with you three times.” But Wallis answered, “I hope nobody will remember.“21 No one did, as columnist Suzy Knickerbocker noted: “Everyone in Palm Beach is saying that it is hard to remember when the Duchess of Windsor has ever looked so marvelous. She’s a smash in everything she wears, be it her flowered paper dress or the pale blue caftan from Balenciaga....“22
Wallis usually went through her wardrobe twice a year, selecting gowns and outfits she no longer wanted. Some were passed along to friends or members of the household or staff, while others were donated to charities in Paris.23 In the 1960s, Diana Vreeland managed to convince Wallis to donate many of her gowns to the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City; over the next decade, dozens of suits and dresses made their way to New York, including the Duchess’s wedding dress by Mainbocher.
It was with her accessories that Wallis managed to refine the simplest of dresses. She was always immaculately turned out, as her friend Aline, countess of Romanones, recalled: “She always carried an extra pair of white gloves, ‘One pair to go, one pair to come back.’ Her shoes were always shined underneath, on the instep and inside the heel, which can be seen when you cross your legs.”24
Behind the mirrored doors of Wallis’s dressing room were long, narrow drawers filled with rows of day and evening gloves in doeskin, brushed cotton, and kid leather, often made by Balenciaga or purchased by the Duchess at Saks Fifth Avenue during her trips to New York City.25 There were shelves of evening bags in leather, velvet, and suede in every conceivable color, pattern, and design, often adorned with gold monograms or ducal coronets.26 She had hundreds of chiffon, silk, and mousseline scarves, made by Chanel, Hermès, Givenchy, and Marc Bohan for Dior. These were hand-painted with exotic patterns and colors, bore animal prints, or were embellished with her cipher of intertwined Ws. Wallis wore them draped around her neck or shoulders, occasionally slung diagonally across her bodice or twisted around ropes of pearls which were tied around her neck.27 Although she rarely used them, Wallis had a number of parasols, most in light pastel colors with bone, ivory, or carved wooden handles. Likewise, her fans were either practical, simple items or exotic, hand-painted antiques or plumes of ostrich feathers used for costume balls.
There were belts in leather or suede; sashes of velvet and chiffon; and, later, jeweled belts made by New York designer Kenneth Jay Lane. Wallis had dozens of shoes from which to choose, ranging from suede and leather to satins, velvet, and crocodile skin. She favored designs made by Roger Vivier for Dior, usually with court heels so that she would not tower over her husband.28 There were also furs, usually purchased from Dior and Maximilian. Although she owned long coats of mink, beaver, fox, and ermine, Wallis disliked their weight and instead favored sable or mink wraps.29
The Duchess’s elaborate coiffures, created by Alexandre of Paris, were designed to accommodate a variety of hats. Wallis disliked large hats; occasionally, she would sport a wide-brimmed picture hat to match a summer dress, but her tastes veered more to pillboxes and bonnets designed by Chanel, Dior, and Givenchy. She absolutely abhorred the sorts of elaborate concoctions sported by her archrival Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, referring to them as “Cookie’s latest flower basket.”30
Wallis’s lingerie was always of the finest quality and design. Her nightgowns and dressing gowns were in crepe de chine, fine silk, and sheer satins; the necklines were occasionally adorned with lace or finely embroidered, intertwined Ws. Inevitably, this evening wear was in peach, pale pink, or pastel blue; at night, entering her bedroom, Wallis would find her lingerie neatly folded and tucked in a quilted case covered with lace and embroidered with her cipher.31
While the Duke and Duchess shared a passion for clothing, their interests did not extend to the other’s wardrobe. Once, when Fleur Cowles tried to include the Duke in a conversation she was having with the Duchess about her clothes, Wallis interrupted. “Oh, the Duke isn’t interested in women’s fashions. He never even notices what I’ve got on!”
“Quite right!” David responded, “but I do often think of my mother. Fashion held no interest for her. She never changed how she looked.”32
Eventually, Wallis channeled some of her interest and energy into creating her own dress-pattern service, which was syndicated in America, along with a series of articles entitled “How to Be Well-Dressed.” “I’ve done two or three hundred patterns so far,” Wallis explained, “and I love doing them. I usually take my ideas from the clothes I wish I could wear—so as not to put every other woman in round high necks and the severe lines I insist on for myself.”33 The Duchess’s dress designs were indicative of her own tastes; she seems to have had more than a passing interest in the actual design, fashion always having been something of a hobby since her schooldays. She designed a cocktail dress; an afternoon dress, which she recommended in red; a cardigan suit in tweed; and several day dresses, coats, and an evening dress of simple lines.
With her clothes, Wallis wore her magnificent collection of jewelry. While other royal women could boast pieces in greater number and of far more value than the Duchess of Windsor, perhaps no other woman in the twentieth century possessed such a diverse display of antique and modern, of the priceless worn with costume jewelry Her eye was impeccable: Wallis preferred to let her jewels dominate rather than her clothing, and she possessed the enviable talent of being able to wear contrasting pieces at the same time, and in abundance, without appearing vulgar.
She began with little: a few simple rings, a string of pearls inherited from her Warfield grandmother, and some necklaces and bracelets. At the time of her presentation at court in 1931, she had to make do with the simulated aquamarine-and-diamond cross which hung around her neck; within five years, she would possess nearly a half million dollars’ worth of lavish jewels, bestowed upon her by the Prince of Wales.
The love story of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor was also told through her jewels, with inscriptions, trinkets, and charms to remind her of significant dates and events in their romance. Nearly all her important jewels bore romantic engravings written by David. For her birthday in 1936, for example, the then King presented Wallis with a massive diamond-and-ruby tasseled necklace from Van Cleef & Arpels in Paris; on the reverse of the clasp was inscribed: “My Wallis from her David 19.vi.36”34
Many of the jewels in this period reflected the taste for art deco, with sleek platinum settings and pavé diamonds combined with brilliant rubies, sapphires, or emeralds to create stunning pieces. She also experimented with diverse materials. One of her most famous suites of jewels was made of an almost mauve-colored chalcedony, a necklace, bracelets, and earrings created by Suzanne Belperron and adorned with sapphires and diamonds. Wallis loved these jewels and continued to wear them until her final illness in the mid-1970s.
Van Cleef & Arpels created a number of her important pieces in the 1930s, including the sapphire-and-diamond bracelet she wore on the day she and David were married. The reverse bore the inscription “For our Contract 18-V-37.”35
In 1940 the Duke presented her with her first flamingo brooch, composed of rubies, diamonds, and sapphires. To celebrate their return to Paris at the end of the war, he gave her an 18-carat-gold bib necklace set with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, which he had purchased from Cartier, a rather enormous piece which she rarely wore.36 In 1946 he gave her a spectacular jeweled brooch in the form of a bird with a long, sweeping tail composed of 322 brilliants that Cartier had made specially for her. Its centerpiece was a cabochon sapphire of 64.80 carats. The piece had been created by breaking up three diamond rings, eight brooches, and two pairs of earrings.37
This piece, and many others, were among those stolen during the October 1946 robbery of the Duchess’s jewels. Precisely what was stolen has never been entirely clear. Lady Dudley, later Laura, Duchess of Marlborough, recalled: “The Duchess’s jewel case was no ordinary affair. It was a trunk in which she had many of HRH’s fantastic collection of Fabergé boxes and a great many uncut emeralds which I believe belonged to Queen Alexandra. The Duchess liked jewels very much, though this is rather an understatement as she was continually having them re-set, mostly in Paris. One of these priceless baubles had only just reached her, a vast sapphire which she had had converted into a bird of paradise by Van Cleef & Arpels.”38
Another missing piece was a platinum-and-diamond tiara, the Duke’s wedding gift to his wife. It was made by Cartier in Paris in 1937, and David had originally intended that Wallis would wear it on their wedding day; like every other royal bride, he expected that the occasion, as a royal wedding, would call for the formality of a tiara. But Buckingham Palace apparently objected to the idea, and the tiara—worn thereafter only for a series of photographs—was never seen again.
One of the great mysteries is the presence and provenance of the Duchess’s emeralds. Throughout the last sixty years, it has frequently been alleged that David presented Wallis with some portion of the British crown jewels or that emeralds which had belonged to his grandmother Queen Alexandra had ended up in the Duchess of Windsor’s collection. When Princess Alexandra of Denmark came to England in 1863 to marry Albert Edward, the Prince of Wales, she supposedly brought with her a number of priceless, uncut emeralds. When she died in 1925, she was thought to have left them to her grandson David, expecting that one day they would adorn his wife, whom she assumed would also be Queen of England. David, of course, was popularly thought to have given them to Wallis, and the British Royal Family, understandably, was said to be furious.
