Vreeland's Musings I

Childhood inspirations & More

Annie Leibovitz’s photo of a broadly smiling Diana Ross stares out from the cover with “DIANA” overlaid large twice: “DIANA (Ross) Reflections by O’Connell Driscoll” and “A Question of Style DIANA (Vreeland) By Lally Weymouth.” Two legendary Diana’s, mononymous stars whose work and lives transcended their original industries.

The table of contents descriptions of both pieces seem particularly apt—Diana Ross: “She seems to be doing so many things at once, you wonder where this superstar gets all her energy"; Diana Vreeland: “She looks like ‘some extraordinary parrot—a wild thing that’s flung itself out of the jungle who talks in some amazing language,’ says Truman Capote. Arbiter of fashion for three decades at Harper’s Bazaar and Vogue, then curator of fashion at the Metropolitan Museum, Vreeland’s fairytale life and her own distinctive style have inspired fanatic devotion from the great and near great…”

Following on from this earlier newsletter, here is more from Lally Weymouth’s interview with Diana Vreeland, published in Rolling Stone, August 11, 1977. I’m diving this up over a few weeks of posts; this one will center on Vreeland’s childhood up until the early years of her marriage, with fashion, style and inspiration interwoven throughout.

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CHILDHOOD

What childhood experiences gave you the extraordinary visual sense that you obviously have?

Having been born in Paris.

But a lot of people were born in Paris.

Well, aren't they rather different from other people?… I was born at such a wonderful time. I saw the whole beginning of the century.

What year were you born?

That I never give out because I think that anything to do with age is terribly boring and it's so American I can't get on with it.

What did your father do?

He was a stockbroker. I never knew what a stockbroker was or why he went to business every day because he was so terribly attractive. I rather felt he wasted his time.

What was he like?

He was so wonderful looking—so charming. For every daughter, the first love of her life is her father. To this day I just adore him. He was wonderfully affectionate... He was six foot six and a half high... He was the most ... well, I mean, by God, there goes an Englishman. He had that look about him. Wonderful sense of humor; a great beauty; and really nothing to do with the modern world at all. Totally Edwardian, you know…

What do you think you learned from your father?

Well—I suppose the style of his period, which was wonderful. An enormous thing, to do with a sense of humor. A good humor is the most cleansing thing on earth.

Was your mother [Emily K. Hoffman Dalziel] very stylish?

 Very. Very good-looking. She was a terrific flamenco dancer—totally unprofessional, but I mean, she was marvelous. My mother never stopped dancing—she was just nuts about it. Had a marvelous carriage. And maybe got bored to death—I think she died of boredom… She only liked the big time, so fast and furious that there was nothing left for her here in America. She tried everything. She tried Wyoming and all that and it really didn't amuse her very much. She was very happy in Africa… She died at 52, and I think she simply died because there was nothing that she was interested in… She was quite beautiful and vivid and affectionate and lonely.

What was she like as a mother?

Well, I think she was afraid of us, the children. I think she was a person of great fear. She didn't know where she was. She should have been born really about 25 years earlier…

Diana Vreeland and her sister Alexandra.

Was she interested in you?

Not really… But I have no resentment about the way we were brought up. Our parents thought of the most wonderful things. We saw Isadore Duncan dance the Marseillaise; we saw Pavlova in every performance; we saw Nijinsky in every performance; we heard the most marvelous music: Chaliapin was never out of the house—he'd come in and the house would tremble. To have him say "good evening" to the parlor maid was enough to shake the block. There's never been anything like him...

And then the Castles were in our life. Everything was dancing. The Castles were always doing the Castle Walk and everything was very, very amusing around us… This was at our house, number four, Avenue Bois, which is now number four, Avenue Foch. And there was a row of little salons across the front and all the doors were open and the carpets were never down and the music was going all day and all night—it was very gay. It is very good for children to be brought up in a gay atmosphere. And the Castles would do the Bunny Hug, and they'd do the Banana Split where he'd throw her up into the air like this and then down between his legs and then bang onto the floor—very gay, very amusing, a bit of all right.

We saw a lot of fun and that's the greatest way to grow up. We had no education. To this day I can't write a letter with any grammar in it. I don't know how to spell. None of those things. So everything visual has always remained very important to me because that's how I was brought up, with the visual.