"The Rites of Fashion"  Yves St. Laurent

There was an almost macabre air about the pale, gawky young man with the luminous eyes and the slim hands; they were fragile hands, as delicate as the stalks of white iris, and his long, lank hair, carefully tinted in a flat russet, fell down in the back over his starched white collar, and over the templates of his heavy, wide-lensed eyeglasses.  He had well-shaped ears, a prominent, almost patrician nose, and a wide, full-lipped, sensual mouth.  When he spoke, it was in a hushed and diffident tone, the kind of voice one associates with an undertaker.  He said: “Allons, mes enfants, il faut commencer…”

Newsweek August 12, 1963

"The Rites of Fashion"  Yves St. Laurent

There was an almost macabre air about the pale, gawky young man with the luminous eyes and the slim hands; they were fragile hands, as delicate as the stalks of white iris, and his long, lank hair, carefully tinted in a flat russet, fell down in the back over his starched white collar, and over the templates of his heavy, wide-lensed eyeglasses.  He had well-shaped ears, a prominent, almost patrician nose, and a wide, full-lipped, sensual mouth.  When he spoke, it was in a hushed and diffident tone, the kind of voice one associates with an undertaker.  He said: “Allons, mes enfants, il faut commencer…”

Newsweek August 12, 1963



Twiggy Is 63 Today

She is a magic child of the media.  Were there no cameras, she ceases to exist.  She does not make the jet-st scene, nor the discotheque scene, nor the cafe-society scene.  Her name is not linked with movie stars or playboys.  She is not “seen” at this or that fashionable restaurant.  She lives most distinctly on the pages of Vogue, Elle and Seventeen.  But overnight, Twiggy, the 17-year-old Cockney sprig from northwest London, has blossomed into the year’s most radiant and evocative new image.

Newsweek April 10, 1967



HAPPY FASHION WEEK!  [wasn’t Newsweek just the grooviest?]