From the Wall Street Journal- I can't wait to get this book! B)
The Scent of a Businesswoman
Justine Picardie's new biography of Coco Chanel plumbs some of the mysteries of her life.
French Vogue celebrated its 90th anniversary last month. A celebratory issue of the magazine featured birthday cards from the world's largest fashion houses. One, a sketch by Chanel art director Karl Lagerfeld, showed him (dark glasses, long white pony tail) foregrounded by Mademoiselle herself, Coco Chanel (hair bobbed, hands deep in pockets).
Almost 30 years after her death—and a full century since she opened a milliner's shop on 21 Rue Cambon in Paris—Coco Chanel remains very much in the foreground of consciousness for the global brand that bears her name. It is a business based, even today, upon the propagation of her image.
The darker facets of this process are subtly and carefully revealed by Justine Picardie in "Coco Chanel: The Legend and the Life." This biography leaves you with the knowledge that, yes, Chanel took women out of corsets and put them into clothes that allowed freedom of movement. But there's more to it than that. She also propagated a mode of dress that provided comfort with dignity; an important distinction. And she did so while quipping, "I know women. Give them chains. Women adore chains." Ms. Picardie points out that she probably wasn't just referring to the strap of the iconic Chanel bag design. The author is at her best in the analysis of these throw-away lines, picking up every discarded clue and using it suggestively.
The headquarters of Chanel stands today at 31 Rue Cambon, underneath Coco's apartment, which remains exactly as she left it. She is alluring biography-fodder because she left so many trinkets of clues behind and so little in the way of believable back story to tie them all together. Ms. Picardie's book adds a bit more cohesion to the remnants that Coco left, but also contributes to the confession that, "You could search forever for the whole truth about … Chanel, and never find the last of the missing pieces; for when she cut up her history, she scattered it all around, losing some details, hiding others, covering her trail." Ms. Picardie's is a very chic shrug of acceptance.
Before she was Coco, she was Gabrielle and was born on Aug. 18, 1883, in a poorhouse in Saumur. But she changed her name and scratched the birth date out of the passports that she used in her life to travel to Scotland, to Switzerland, to Germany, to Hollywood. When she came to tell the story of her childhood, to friends and biographers Paul Morad and Claude Delay, she lied.
Ms. Picardie travels to where Chanel really spent her childhood; not with two wicked aunts, but in an abbey in Aubazine. On the floor of the abbey, Ms. Picardie finds mosaics of five-pointed stars, which, with other symbols in the building, become imbued with theosophical significance throughout the book and are noticed time and again in Chanel's designs. Can it really be coincidence, Ms. Picardie invites us to ask, that the stars have five points, that Chanel's star sign was the fifth in the zodiac, and the perfume was called No. 5?
Yes, it can, as Ms. Picardie concedes. "If Gabrielle Chanel believed in magic it was more likely to be of her own making." There is nothing cryptic or mystical about Chanel's success, during her own lifetime or since. Within Ms. Picardie's book are the hard facts; Chanel had an eye for what was needed, was unstinting—and, she had the Wertheimer brothers.
Of all the relationships that Justine Picardie outlines with great clarity in the biography—including with Etienne Balsan and Boy Capel, (as portrayed in the recent film "Coco avant Chanel"), with the composer Igor Stravinsky (recent film title: "Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky") the Duke of Westminster (hence the interlocked Cs that decorate some lampposts in Mayfair) and Hans Gunther von Dincklage (as pointed to in the rumors, here defused, of Chanel's Nazi collaboration)—she makes the point that Chanel's most important, and most scandalous, relationship was with one Pierre Wertheimer.
The Wertheimers owned Bourjois, the large cosmetic company that took on the production of the Chanel No. 5 perfume in the 1920s. In a financial deal that Chanel never seemed to have forgiven herself for, she ended up with a 10% stake in the perfume that bore her name, against the Wertheimers' 70%. When the Wertheimers, who were Jewish, fled Paris in 1940 they left the business with a friend who they hoped would protect it against German requisition. In doing so they prevented Chanel from using the anti-Jewish laws of the German Occupation to declare the company abandoned and claim it entirely for herself. She tried nonetheless, which was "a strategy that proved unsuccessful and gravely tarnished her reputation."
Ms. Picardie contends that this had more to do with Chanel's desire for financial justice than anti-Semitism, an argument that she carries through to the tale's happy ending. Eventually, after the war, they struck a deal in which the Wertheimers underwrote Chanel (it is still under their private ownership today), making her "unassailably rich." Ms. Picardie notes that "Wertheimer was far more loyal to Chanel than any of her lovers." And this biography revels in the irony that, "Although she had not taken his name, he took hers."
Chanel No. 5 and the subsequent perfumes that took on various forms of her name and image, proved to be the fashion house's financial insurance. Other designers followed suit, creating a structure in which to this day lipstick and perfume sales fund expensive couture houses come recession and depression.
Chanel No. 5 will be 90 years old next year, making it slightly younger than Vogue. But where Vogue would be without the perfume adverts, without Chanel's axiomatic instructions as to what is stylish, without her—as Marie Dmitri put it—"attitude of sublime contempt for the public taste," a taste that she nonetheless "catered for . . . assiduously," is unfathomable. It is a question that can only be answered with a very chic shrug of acceptance.