Q U I N T E S S E N T I A L
S T Y L E
This spread, clockwise from bottom left: Milana Windisch Graetz, Egon von Fürstenberg, and Jacqueline de Ribes in 1973 at the Golden, Olden Days of Burlexque Phoenix House Benefit; de Ribes standing before a collection of her own designs in Paris in 1985; de Ribes with Don Carlos de Beistegui y de Yturbe; the countess Jacqueline de Ribes, wearing Christian Dior, photo-
Co u r te sy o f th e M e tro p ol i ta n Mu se u m o f Ar t: Ro lo f f B en y E st ate
graphed in 1959 by Roloff Beny.
Institute of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in November. The day I arrived her chauffeur took me to the de Ribes’ family mansion, a three-storied hôtel particulier in the 8th arrondissement. Inside the gate the concierge directed me across the cobblestoned courtyard to a door beneath a protective marquee. A small glass elevator delivered me to the second floor, which on that day was a hive of activity as the Countess’s staff was readying the catalog and account of her life for the upcoming exhibition in New York. Her archivist, Stéphane Goriau, his scarf flowing, was busy at a long table covered with boxes of photos and newspaper clippings in her book-lined office. I looked for a place to put down my purse. Nicolas Pages, a book designer, was working with a myriad of images of de Ribes on his computer from the small adjacent room. Always considered a great natural beauty with her long, elegant line and seductive, intelligent gaze, de Ribes had inspired some of the best photographers of her time—Richard Avedon, Horst P. Horst, Irving Penn, Victor Skrebneski, Cecil Beaton, and Francesco Scavullo, among others—to capture her allure in photos. Those images
launched her fast-rising trajectory into a rarified fashion world. De Ribes was not at the mansion that morning. My meeting with her would occur later, in her apartment. She no longer lives in the residence on Rue de la Bienfaisance, finding the house where she spent her married life with her in-laws too antiquated and stuffy for modern times. She now uses it as the base of her professional operations. Next door to her office on the second floor was a small, charming, shelf-lined kitchen and a narrow table against the wall set with crystal goblets, Haviland plates, and silverware. The archivist, her book designer, her publicist from New York, and Harold Koda, curator of the Met’s Costume Institute, and I sat down together. Linen napkins, hand-embroidered with the de Ribes family crest, were artfully folded at our places. Harold, who has a professional eye for such things, was charmed and fascinated by the way they were folded and asked our server to please show him how to do it. It seemed a trick that only the French could pull off. Lunch, we learned, had been chosen for us by the Countess. After asparagus and giant prawns in a pink sauce followed by salad and éclairs, it was time to begin FA L L 2 0 1 5 /
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