The Great Couturier

Last night I read the New York Times obituary of Yves Saint Laurent, saddened to learn of the passing of one of the greatest designers ever. I then went to bed and dreamt this:

I visited Strawberry on 34th Street and descended the elevator to see what? An Yves Saint Laurent collection for Strawberry, by the man himself. The excitement was palpable; women swarmed, amazed at their good fortune to own an Yves original for Strawberry prices. I joined the throng, complimented a girl twirling in front of a mirror in a breathtaking couture gown, and then asked one of the many tall, dark-haired French men lounging around, depressed that their genius had died, to see the "bee" (?) jewelry Saint Laurent had designed. I got the earrings.

Besides the obvious (I need to shop somewhere besides 34th Street), I woke feeling it had been a monumental event, something joyous staged for the public by a fashion icon. For those who aren't local, Strawberry is an inexpensive NYC store stocked with trendy pieces. You can occasionally score a name-brand there if you're lucky. Obviously, in my dream, I had hit the mother lode. I'm now possibly the only person in New York City who will think of Yves Saint Laurent as I descend into the racks of Strawberry in Manhattan Mall.

Read the New York Times obituary, this great homage by Suzy Menkes at the International Herald Tribune, or the brief but informative Cathy Horyn blog post. These three illustrate the tremendous influence and achievements of Yves Saint Laurent.

“Every man needs aesthetic phantoms in order to exist,” Mr. Saint Laurent said at the announcement of his retirement. “I have known fear and the terrors of solitude. I have known those fair-weather friends we call tranquilizers and drugs. I have known the prison of depression and the confinement of hospital. But one day, I was able to come through all of that, dazzled yet sober.”