Posts Tagged ‘Audrey Hepburn’
Cindy on February 11th, 2010
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs” — Rabindranath Tagore
Valentine’s Day is coming, and I’ll be the first to admit it can be a guilt-inducing Hallmark holiday. As hard as I try to avoid playing the sentimental fool, lately I’ve been jumping at any chance to celebrate the people I cherish. I’ve lost a few in recent years — so I’m burying old grudges and trying not to leave any of my love unsaid.
Reading Tagore’s “Unending Love” for the first time, I knew it was the perfect poem to give my husband, whose birthday falls on Valentine’s Day. Doug and I met in art class in ninth grade, and immediately felt as if we’d been best friends for ages. We married several years later, after college, and we’ll gratefully celebrate our 30th anniversary this year.
This poem was Audrey Hepburn’s favorite, and if you click here, you’ll hear a reading dedicated to her by Gregory Peck. Love to all! – CL
Unending Love
By Rabindranath Tagore
(Translated by William Radice)
I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, its age-old pain,
Its ancient tale of being apart or together,
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge
Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time:
You become an image of what is remembered forever.
You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount
At the heart of time love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers, shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,
the same distressful tears of farewell –
Old love, but in shapes that renew and renew forever.
Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you,
The love of all man’s days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life,
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours –
And the songs of every poet past and forever.
–Reprinted from Selected Poems, by Rabindranath Tagore (with an introduction by William Radice); Penguin Classics; 2005 –
This post is part of a new weekly poetry appreciation series. For more poetry, please click on “Poems to inspire” in the CATEGORIES column at right.
– Photo: detail from a collage by Cindy La Ferle –
Cindy on November 14th, 2009
I am against fashion that doesn’t last” – Coco Chanel
Anticipating the holidays, I’m running a favorite “fun” piece that originally appeared in The Christian Science Monitor (December 4, 1997) and is reprinted in Writing Home.
It’s been years since I’ve worried about what to wear to holiday parties. When the occasion calls for something more formal than jeans and a jacket, I reach for one of several black dresses I own. Black wool, black velvet, black silk, black velour … It’s good to have a closetful of options.
All women owe a great debt of gratitude to the little black dress, also known as the LBD. With or without pearls, it gets us through business meetings, cocktail parties, concerts, and funerals. It makes us look taller and more sophisticated. It forgives us for all the Halloween candy we ate last month.
Amy Holman Edelman’s The Little Black Dress (Simon & Schuster) celebrates the long life of this indelible fashion icon and explores its considerable impact on our culture. Edelman credits Coco Chanel for popularizing the black cocktail dress in 1926. The famous French designer, she says, liberated women from fussy pastel tea dresses and other Victorian frou-frou. And thanks to improved methods of mass production, the LBD soon became available to almost every woman.
But Edelman reminds us that black has been making fashion statements throughout the centuries.
“Black is the color most often chosen to cloak the pious,” she notes. “It reflects the humility of a nun’s habit and the practical endurance of servants and livery.” And for ages, respectable black has been worn during long periods of mourning.
It also has a flip side, a sinister nature. Black can evoke vampires’ capes, witches’ robes, suicidal moods, and a delicious penchant for scandal.
Shocking a conservative public in 1884, the most famous black dress in history was worn by Madame Virginie Gautreau in John Singer Sargent’s “Madame X” (above). Gautreau, who posed for the portrait in a voluptuous black evening gown, was a married woman of “refined tastes and shadowy reputation” — and known throughout Paris for her adulterous affairs. At the time, this bad woman in the little black dress almost ruined a painter’s career. Today, the contradictory nature of black — pious and sinful — only adds to its intrigue and enhances its appeal. No wonder it feels right for a big night out on the town.
There’s no denying that black can be bohemian, or downright rebellious, in its refusal to compete with pattern and color. Black is cool by itself. It dominates the wardrobes of motor cycle gangs, creative types, and other expatriates. And we have Audrey Hepburn to thank for making black look equally at home at coffeehouses and cocktail parties. After its appearance in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Hepburn’s black cocktail dress became an everlasting symbol of New York glamour.
Painter Georgia O’Keeffe, also known for her high-spirited individualism, wore a simple black dress at a time when other women thought the look was too harsh. As Edelman points out, O’Keeffe’s mentor and husband, the photographer Alfred Stieglitz, was first attracted to the painter “by the distinct nature of her dress.”
In the decades since its debut, the black dress has become a uniform that expresses a modern woman’s contradictions and celebrates her independence. It announces that she’s dressing for herself. And in a season overburdened by decisions — what to buy for Aunt Beth; what to wear to the office Christmas party — the LBD offers the ease of simplicity. Or, as I keep telling my husband, you can’t own too many. – Cindy La Ferle
Cindy on September 8th, 2008
Last week I posted a piece on high-tech etiquette, referring to a current feature in Real Simple magazine. A couple of readers e-mailed me privately (and some posted comments) to share their views. As one woman wrote, “This isn’t just a problem with cell phone abuse. People today, generally, lack the most basic social skills and civility — and they don’t seem to care.” Another reader noted that “being classy seems to have gone out of style.”
Whenever I hear the word “classy,” I automatically think of Audrey Hepburn. And I can’t think of anyone else, living or dead, quite like her. She’s a tough act to follow – quirky and sophisticated, yet still as fresh as the proverbial girl next door. Her avant-garde fashion sense inspired the revival of the little black dress, the crisp white shirt, cocktail jewelry, Capri pants, ballet flats, and of course, over-sized sunglasses.
But classy isn’t strictly about clothes — nor was Audrey Hepburn. Standing apart from Hollywood’s voluptuous blond bombshells, Audrey was a streamlined original. And she was a model of decorum both personally and professionally.
She first lit up the screen in 1953 in Roman Holiday, then starred in several films that are now considered classics, including Funny Face, Sabrina, and Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Forever au courant, Audrey still charms and fascinates — and there are dozens of guides and coffee table books attempting to explain why.
“While her clothing style remains a grounding influence on fashion, it is her character that is certain to withstand the test of time,” notes Melissa Hellstern in How to Be Lovely: The Audrey Hepburn Way of Life. “Audrey taught us that being a woman is as simple as knowing who you are, and who you are not.”
Fashionistas might prefer Pamela Clarke Keogh’s Audrey Style, which contains dozens of previously unpublished photographs paired with original sketches from designers such as Hubert de Givenchy, who helped create Audrey’s look and her signature fragrance, L’Interdit. Also included are tips on how most women can adapt Audrey’s style to their own without looking like they’re auditioning for Sabrina.
For a more intimate, substantial look at Audrey Hepburn’s life as a mother, friend, and humanitarian, check out the biography and memoir, Audrey Hepburn, An Elegant Spirit: A Son Remembers, by Sean Hepburn Ferrer. Ferrer’s writings on his mother are as candid as they are emotional, touching on her early childhood in Belgium, troubles with her distant father, and her failed marriages. He pays homage to Audrey’s relationships with such luminaries as Henry Mancini, who said her “quality of wistfulness” inspired the songs he wrote for her, including “Moon River.” Ferrer often referred to his famous mom as “my best friend,” and clearly admired her last role as a tireless spokeswoman for UNICEF. It all adds up to a great read for Audrey fans who want more than a mere fashion documentary on her richly textured life.
It shouldn’t surprise anyone that Audrey Hepburn has achieved cult status today, even to younger women who weren’t around when Breakfast at Tiffany’s premiered in 1961. She reminds us that grace and civility never go out of fashion. Her refined elegance endures against all odds — even in an era of pierced lips, tattoos, bare-all blogs, and Britney Spears. Despite her celebrity, Audrey kept her sense of humor and never took herself or Hollywood too seriously. “People seem to have this fixed image of me,” she said. “In a way, I think it’s very sweet, but it’s also a little sad. After all, I am a human being. When I get angry, I sometimes swear.” – Cindy La Ferle
– Parts of this column originally appeared in book review form in the Christian Science Monitor, and later as a lifestyles column in Journal Register newspapers–
Valentine’s Day is coming, and I’ll be the first to admit it can be a guilt-inducing Hallmark holiday. As hard as I try to avoid playing the sentimental fool, lately I’ve been jumping at any chance to celebrate the people I cherish. I’ve lost a few in recent years — so I’m burying old grudges and trying not to leave any of my love unsaid.
