...there was a palace on an articifial lagoon...
...where a pretty young girl married into an artificial empire...
She had, for a while, a wonderful time...
And spectacular clothes...
Later on, she even got to be Empress...
The Empress of Iran (far right - in so many senses of the word) and friends, in happier times. When did women stop making barbie feet when posing in swimwear? Why did they start?It seems only fitting that the funeral of someone like Yves Saint Laurent should be unutterably fashionable, attended by everyone from his professional contemporaries (Valentino, Westwood, Rykiel, Kenzo...) to the Empress of Iran. What startles me, reading about it, is that it was more than just a stylish event; that in fact it seems to have been deeply moving.
The coffin arrived, greeted by the designer's companion, Pierre Bergé:
The great and the good - including the President of France and his wife, no stranger to fashion - in solemn array (note the Empress - taller than I would have thought):
And, of course, Deneuve:
All the papers say she read a poem of Whitman's, but not exactly what. I wonder if it included either of these bits, which seem appropriate.
Love, that is all the earth to lovers — love, that mocks time and space,
Love, that is day and night — love, that is sun and moon and stars,
Love, that is crimson, sumptuous, sick with perfume,
No other words but words of love, no other thought but love.
