What is it like to be a living legend?
Valentina in 1982
I was sorting through an old file cabinet of mine and came across a great many papers from when I was deep in Valentina research, for a book and an exhibition on her over a decade ago. Among them was a typewritten press release from 1982 by the doyenne of American fashion PR, Eleanor Lambert. Written long after Valentina had retired from being America’s top couturier, Lambert lays out the life of this very glamorous recluse—I would call her “America’s most glamorous recluse,” but Valentina was definitely tied for that with her former friend and current neighbour/enemy Greta Garbo. The pair had been best friends and confidantes with Valentina’s husband George being Garbo’s long-time companion—the three were often rumored to be in a ménage à trois. In October 1964, George passed away while on a trip with Garbo—the confused situation surrounding his death led to a fallout between the two women, who never spoke again. As they continued to live in the same building (450 East 52nd Street) for the next twenty-plus years, there evolved a very elaborate choreography by the doormen for the use of elevators and the lobby to prevent Valentina and Garbo from running into each other. Valentina passed away September 14, 1989, with Garbo following her almost exactly seven months later.
When I interviewed writer and historian Hugo Vickers for my podcast, he spoke about meeting Valentina in Venice in the early 1980s and then later in New York—visiting her at home, hoping to catch a glimpse of Garbo while entering, but mostly just soaking up her undimmed wit, intelligence and glamour, just like Lambert did.
Release Week of March 22, 1982 #1 By Eleanor Lambert
What is it like to be a living legend?
Well, when you are Valentina, the fabled designer who made Lynn Fontanne, Lily Pons, Katherine Hepburn, Vivian Leigh and herself into undying fashion symbols, it's like this:
You still look gorgeous, still live in grand luxury and still give a scornful laugh at any hint of phony pretension.
The woman whose crack, "Mink is for football" became the classic instant definition of throwaway elegance, remains, at seventy-something, as glamorous, mysterious and capricious as when she was a headlined fashion personality. She retired 20 years ago and since the death of her husband George Schlee has been almost a recluse.
"Do you mean to tell me that Valentina Schlee still lives right here in New York and I've never seen her, much less met her?" gasped fashion editor June Weir.
That started it. I had to wheedle a lot to persuade Schlee to be Valentina for an afternoon and let me "Dahling ... why should I go back to all that? My maid is on vacation. Oh, all right, come for tea, but you will have to bring the cakes. I never go out these cold days."
She greeted us at the door, wearing a quilted red velvet peignoir worthy of Catherine the Great. Her head was draped in an ivory silk scarf that rippled over her eyes and crossed under her chin. Her hands fluttered into the madonna-like pose of her famous portrait by Hoyingen Huene.
She led the way through the library where photos of Noel Coward, Vivian Leigh and Larry Oliver, Grand Duchess Marie of Russia, Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne stood in silver frames on the 18th century French desk. We entered the drawing room, stately, wood panelled, with four huge windows reflecting the sunset over the bridges and the East River. "I spend my days here, very happily," she said and you believe her.
She is still ballerina-thin, her long gesturing hands always in motion and a don't-touch-me air strengthened now by the shadowy head scarves she wears day and night. Actually she has a marvelous head of golden hair to her shoulders. No doubt the close-fitting snoods she prefers are somehow responsible for the smooth taut unlined look of her face. She never did wear eye makeup, and her long dark lashes are still seductive.
Her crazy Russo-English, delivered in musical notes like Kremlin bells and always starting with "Dahling…” is as delightfully zany as when Lynn Fontanne copied it in "Idiot's Delight."
She insists she doesn't miss designing clothes, but when we asked if she had any pictures of her milestone creations, she led us back to the library and a pile of tooled leather scrapbooks overflowing with photographs. Lynn Fontanne in the celebrated bias-cut silk dress of Valentina's famous "mud" silk crepe, with the apron in a different tone that became a "must" addition in the late 40s… Valentina herself in grey flannel Bermuda shorts, knee socks with a sweatshirt top and her signature snood, laughing as she pulled at two poodles.
It was a wonderful afternoon.
But darned if I hadn't forgotten the cookies.
Privacy is the ultimate luxury, and in very short supply today. Truly, we have gained nothing from the overexposure and panicked self-branding of social media. Can such mysterious creatures as Valentina still exist? Perhaps, if they shun hand-held devices. Food for thought.