Vreeland's Musings III

As yesterday was the 119th anniversary of her birth, here is the final part of Diana Vreeland’s 1977 Rolling Stone interview. Previous sections can be read here: “A Question of Style,” “Vreeland’s Musings I” and “Vreeland’s Musings II.”

Diana discusses the 1960s at Vogue, her firing from there and rebirth at the Costume Institute, Warren Beatty, Twiggy, “American Women of Style,” and fashion in the seventies. As always, she is sharp, witty, and vivid in her recollections.

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THE 60s

How did you go about giving ‘Vogue’ a new deal?

Oh, well, you know, you get into a desk and you start cooking. That’s all. The same old story, I mean. Oh, it was a marvelous time. A marvelous time to be a fashion journalist, really. I think the Sixties were a very extraordinary period. They were great. It was the youthquake. The Pill… released the whole… association between girls and boys. It created an entirely different society… In the Sixties you were knocked in the eyeballs—the works—the whole bit. Everybody, everything was new. It was like the Twenties. Don't forget the new music, the new paintings… the rebellion. The clothes. You read revolution in clothes. You read everything in clothes. That’s why clothes are interesting.

Jean Shrimpton by David Bailey. Vogue, November 1962.

What did you read in the clothes of the Sixties?

Well, there were the flower children, most of them are either stockbrokers or dead by now. But they had their little time and they expressed themselves. And they didn’t do any harm. They led their own life… No one could stand the length of their hair—no one could stand anything about them—they were the avant-garde of the revolution that took place. It was a small revolution and not bloody, thank God. But it was a revolution, and for the first time youth went out to life, instead of waiting for life to come to them, which is the difference between the Sixties and any other decade I’ve lived in…

I can remember saying to people, “Don’t you ever read? Don’t you ever do this and that?” Young girls that I worked with. They'd say, “No. We're waiting till we're your age.” I said, “If you're not doing it today, you’re not going to do it when you're my age. So just forget that.

Don’t you wait around for anything, because it never comes to you. You go after it. Then it will come to you. And so on.” And the Sixties revealed all that in youth. They were interested… I always went out to life. I wanted what I wanted out of it. But I’m not trying to say it was the typical thing of the time.

Don’t forget there were wars connected with this country which were so terrible...

Don’t forget that Hair was one of the most symbolic plays that you could possibly see. I saw it 11 times. I think it had the most beautiful music—‘‘Good Morning Starshine” is one of the most beautiful songs. I think it was one of the most touching and tender things I’ve ever seen because nobody knew where they were going. How could they with nothing but war staring them in the face forever and on. I mean, we fought the whole coastline from Korea right through Indochina. When other countries said, ‘Well, we don’t see anything in Hair,” I said, “Why should you? It isn’t written about you. These are the kids of our time. These are the children of America.” I think it was perfectly marvelous. It all had such an innocence and such a tragedy about it. Loneliness! They were lonely together. They had to be together, but they were lonely.

How important was ‘‘Swinging London’?

The real fashion of the Sixties was in London. I mean, “Swinging London” was the Sixties—the girls with the long flowing hair and their grandmothers’ old lace petticoats… And then the bands all came from England. I mean, think what the Beatles gave the world! They really united two generations… these clean little boys with their hair all fluffed from soap and water stood there and sang those songs which we all love and know… I mean, those delicious songs like “Strawberry Fields Forever” and “I Want to Hold Your Hand.”… I mean, those are heartbreakers of songs, no? Oh, the Beatles were adorable.

Did you ever meet the Beatles?

Yes, I met them. I remember we published a photograph of the Beatles in 63… and then we published Mick the next year. The first time they were on television here I was in the hospital and I got myself a TV—but a huge one. And all the interns and everybody in the hospital came into my room to watch the Beatles. And we were all squealing and carrying on like bobbysoxers. Then the next day I went home, ‘cause, you see, I didn’t have a television at home, so I stayed in one extra day.

Mick Jagger by David Bailey. Vogue, July 1964.

How did you first hear of Mick Jagger?

Ah, David Bailey brought me a picture. You don’t know my friend Bailey, do you? He's just divine.. Did you see Blow-Up? Well, that was Bailey. He was the hot Cockney chap around. I mean, he was so attractive you could've eaten him up… When we did his photograph in ’64 Mick was quite plump. It was in Marrakech. Then the Stones started up… oh, I'll never forget the first time I went to see Mick in the Garden. It was Thanksgiving Day… A little girl behind me kept tapping. “Do you mind if I put my hands on your shoulder, so I can see over it?” I said, “Not at all.” In a few minutes, she said, “Do you mind if I stand on your shoulder so I can see him?” I said, “Not at all. If you can handle this—I don’t know if I can.” My dear, she got up on my shoulder and started to scream and everybody was holding onto me so the child wouldn't kill herself. You couldn't see a thing. Everybody was standing on top of everybody’s back. There’s never been anything like it… at the Garden.

Mick’s such an actor. He’s so intelligent, you know, to talk to. I think he’s a marvelous fellow… Remember the night he was here and he broke the chandelier? My dear, you couldn’t get in the house the next day for the flowers. And so I said, “My God, these flowers—what did he do?”