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In August, Saint Laurent unveiled his second collection, and this time the praise was almost unanimously lavish. Time magazine called the collection “the sensation of the week” and spoke of the designer’s “elevation to the ranks of the fashion greats,” right up there with Balenciaga and Hubert de Givenchy.
The New York Times Magazine said “his first collection was less than a smash, but his second…has lifted him to the pinnacle of Paris couture.”
In August 1963, Saint Laurent’s picture appeared on the cover of Newsweek. Until his show that summer, the couture was in the doldrums. Many of its regular customers were literally dying off; new technology was making it simpler to copy couture clothes, and many couturiers seemed out of touch with the postwar mood. Saint Laurent revitalized the couture.
With a collection meant to be worn by real women doing real things, he was the unquestioned smash of Paris. He made what one American woman called “dresses I can Twist in [the Twist was a popular dance of the time] and go to the bathroom in.”
In an interview with Newsweek, Saint Laurent said, “I know now that you can’t take your clothes out of life, away from reality, and have them mean anything. A designer must get out and look at life around him. As soon as I went Twisting at Regine’s, I understood the problem older women have in a place like that.”
By 1964, his ability to make dramatic new statements with each passing season had become his trademark. Unlike Balenciaga, Chanel and Givenchy —who created a look and stayed with it — Saint Laurent continually shifted gears to keep on top of rapidly changing events.
An article in Look magazine said: “His achievements, like those of so many youthful leaders in other creative fields, stem from extraordinary perception and an ability to interpret the times with imagination, artistry and daring.”
There were two major events in YSL’s life in the summer of 1965. In July, J. Mack Robinson sold his interest in the fashion house for a net price of less than $1 million to Lanvin-Charles of the Ritz, whose president was Richard A. Salomon. Bergé said the house would now become “one of the biggest and most important in Paris…rivaling the $30 million Dior in size.”
(Ritz already had the Saint Laurent license for fragrance, and had launched the scent Y in Europe, where it was highly successful. It was introduced in the U.S. that fall.)
At the same time Ritz was buying Saint Laurent, YSL’s mother gave him a book on the Dutch painter Piet Mondrian. That summer, he introduced a collection based on Mondrian’s use of primary colors in rectangular blocks. He would regard it later as one of his greatest successes.
He visited the U.S. in October for a three-week national tour to promote Y. He was a guest on “The Tonight Show” (then televised from New York), went to Arthur, the most popular discotheque in town, and met with America’s leading designer, Norman Norell. On Nov. 9, 1965, he was in New York when a massive power failure blacked out almost all of the Northeast. That evening, dining at Le Pavillon by candlelight, he said he thought a bomb had gone off.
The year before, he had fantasized about his own boutique, telling WWD: “Why not open a boutique in the center of St. Germain des Pres where all the young people would see it?...Now I have an urge to open a boutique ‘pour les jeunes.’”
In September 1966, he did. The first Rive Gauche opened at 21 Rue de Tournon, on the Left Bank and Saint Laurent said: “It’s just as I want…wild colors and very modern. Black glass for the entrance, a steel pillar and dark orange carpeting, and one huge window.”
The first of what would become a string of more than 160 stores, it remained open until midnight and sold dresses for $60.
Saint Laurent often said he wanted to write his autobiography and continually referred to his frustration at not being able to complete it.
The closest he came was with the publication of his book, “La Vilaine Lulu,” in 1967. It recounted the adventures of Nasty Lulu, a cartoon character he had been doodling for some 10 years. Lulu, a squat, sadistic little girl, was in some ways, Saint Laurent’s alter ego, saying and doing what he dared not. Nasty Lulu once said, for example: “I roar with laughter when all those females, the faithful, the content, the fanatics of fashion, the blue-stockings, the journalists, come to scratch the nape of his neck and murmur with beatitude: ‘My Yves.’ They whisper to him, flutter around him, and he says nothing. If I weren’t to be a comic, there would be a lot to say on the psychological level about that shy bird, that myopic being who, behind those eyeglasses like television screens, is never snowed. He immediately detects in another what is true, what is crucial.”
It was during the student strikes in France in 1968 that Saint Laurent reevaluated his thoughts about the couture and concluded that as an institution, it had become obsolete.
“Real fashion today comes from the young people manning the streets — those between 30 and 35,” he said. “The difference between day and evening clothes is outdated. The new fashion freedom permits people to be as they are or as they want to be…to go to dinner, for instance, as they were in the morning in black jersey, or anything else. My new collection is based on the idea of the suit — the practical, modern, easy world of the suit. Not the suit as we’ve known it…a suit that will look different with a skirt or pants. And pants with coats are part of our life.”
The result was his revolutionary CityPants collection, but almost as if he were compensating for hiding women’s legs, he also showed a see-through blouse — another symbol of the sexual liberation that characterized the decade.
The same year, the first Rive Gauche shop in America opened on New York’s Madison Avenue. Although miniskirts were being worn by women of all ages — and shapes — Saint Laurent shook up the fashion world in 1969, when he dropped hems below the knee and showed the longest skirts since Dior’s New Look in 1947.
“It’s degenerate, it’s decadent, somewhat Proustian,” he said. “It’s sexy.”
It also precipitated one of the most controversial and unsettling periods in the history of contemporary fashion. The following January, YSL showed the longuette and Bergé said, “This has been the most difficult collection I’ve ever had to produce. We are all expecting a miracle. This house usually has them.”
The miracle, said many manufacturers at all price levels, is that they were able to survive a period in which many women were confused about what skirt lengths were appropriate.
Through it all, Saint Laurent kept taking the pulse of the younger generation. “Hippie is more than a way of dressing,” he said in 1970. “It’s a spirit which fills young people. I don’t know any young people who are not hippies in their spirit. This is what it is all about. When the revolution comes, it will come from the young people.” He began to grow a beard.
The Seventies saw a continued growth in his business and a move, in July 1974, to 5 Avenue Marceau. He expanded into footwear, men’s wear, luggage and home textiles. He made plans for his line to be made in the U.S. and to bring the number of Rive Gauche boutiques to 100. He also planned to widen his rtw collection and limit his couture designs.
“We’re eliminating the show and going back to making clothes, our true trade,” he said.
In November 1971, he shocked some people by appearing nude — first in French Vogue, then in other French publications — in an advertisement for his men’s fragrance.
Inspired by the Ballet Russe, Saint Laurent dazzled Paris in April 1976 with a collection many people regard as his most beautiful. It was his Big Fantasy collection and from babushkas to boots, it shook up the fashion world with a lush display of color, pattern and texture that moved some people at the opening to tears.
Three months later, when he showed the same look in his fall couture collection, The New York Times put the story on its front page. It was a collection, said the Times, “that will change the course of fashion around the world.”
A month later, just after his 40th birthday, Saint Laurent told WWD: “I needed a violent explosion of Fantasy. This collection was a dream that I have had for a long time. I have always wanted to do a collection that included everything that I love in my life. I have always wanted to do a collection that was a reflection of all my tastes.”
The effort exhausted him, putting him into a rehabilitation clinic for three weeks.
“He was born,” said Bergé, “with a nervous breakdown.” Two months later, in October, he had to be supported by his models while taking bows after his latest collection, one he said he created from his bed in the American Hospital in Paris. An article in WWD referred to “rumors of dire illness, drinking problems and drug intoxication.”
For Saint Laurent, 1978 turned out to be a year of three major events: In January, he introduced the Broadway suit in a couture collection inspired by “Porgy and Bess” and the American black culture. It was a huge success. In March, he made more news when he pulled out of the Chambre Syndicale de la Couture, because its membership had become swollen with second-rank firms. As Bergé put it, the association “has become like a Spanish roadhouse — they let people in from left and right, who only want to capitalize on the reputation and prestige of Paris couture.”
Finally, in September, YSL launched his second women’s fragrance in the U.S. It was called Opium and it turned out to be as controversial as it was successful. The launch itself was a lavish affair, starting with a mammoth party for 900 in New York aboard a 350-foot, 70-year-old four-master called the Peking. The cost was reportedly $250,000.
The name of the fragrance provoked a deluge of protests from Asian-Americans who felt it was denigrating.
“It was the only name I wanted,” said Saint Laurent. “After Y, I wanted a lush, heavy, indolent fragrance. I wanted Opium to be captivating, and it’s a fragrance which evokes all the things I love — the refined Orient, Imperial China, exoticism.” The controversy lasted into the next decade. So did the name.
The Eighties were a period in which Saint Laurent’s control over his business continued to expand, even as he became outwardly more fragile.
It began with an announcement by Bergé in January 1980 that the company would pay $7 million to regain total control of its Rive Gauche rtw by acquiring Mendes Co., which made and distributed the clothing. It ended in July 1989 when Saint Laurent put 10.9 percent of the company’s shares on public sale, becoming the first couture house to appear on the Paris Bourse.
While the company was preparing its public offering, Bergé was busy fending off reports that Saint Laurent was either seriously ill, or that he was dying of AIDS. “Everybody knows that [Saint Laurent] has psychological problems,” said Bergé, “that he takes too many tranquilizers which make him seem a little confused, but I declare on my honor that he doesn’t have cancer, that he doesn’t have AIDS — he hasn’t even tested positive.
“What can I do?” he asked. “Yves Saint Laurent’s illness didn’t begin yesterday. People have been talking about it for 15 years.”
In January 1982, when he celebrated the 20th anniversary of his couture house, he was virtually a recluse.
“I have become a monk,” he said, from his apartment on Rue de Babylone.
“Going out is my idea of torture. I want to stay at home. When I’m in my bed with a great book, I feel as if nothing else matters.”
He said his happiest and most productive period was the late Sixties and early Seventies, during which he introduced his “rich peasant” look, his gangster tuxedos and his “tarty” Forties collection.
“I work because I have to,” he said, “not to make money, but for the people who depend on me. If I don’t create the next collection, and the collection after that, they will end up on the streets.”
In December 1983, a few months after the launch of Paris, another women’s fragrance, the Costume Institute of New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art paid homage to him with a historic 25-year retrospective of his work. It was followed over the next several years by retrospectives in Beijing, Paris, Moscow, Leningrad and Sydney. Raisa Gorbachev made a special request to see his collection. His name became an entry in the Larousse dictionary.
The mid-Eighties also brought the first rumblings of discontent from the Rive Gauche shops in the U.S., with retailers citing increased competition from other designers and a lack of newness in the collections. In the last half of the Eighties, Rive Gauche shops in many cities began to close.
In November 1986, the company said it would acquire Charles of the Ritz Group, Ltd. — which owned the YSL beauty business — from Squibb Corp. for $630 million.