C.Z. Guest with her husband Winston at Belmont racecourse, New York, circa 1953.
In time, C. Z. became a true doyenne of New York high society, wearing the haute with a fresh carelessness that made her infinitely desirable. She became a returning selection on best-dressed lists, embodying a classic beauty which resonated with an idealised picture of Americanness. (Directness. Work Ethic. Honesty.) She was an apotheosis of the old world: Southampton, Palm Beach and the other enclaves of British-hued wealth and class privilege. She wore simple clothes that indicated an unfussy American determination. Uncomplicated designs by Mainbocher and Adolfo were her mainstay. Sometimes Givenchy gave a European flavour. Yet in time, C. Z.'s dress sense became pivotal to the trajectory of American fashion. Since the gilded age of the 1890s, a practical, sporty and outdoorsy style had developed among American elites. Jodhpurs, tennis whites and sailing gear were the leisurely uniforms of the leisured classes. (Here lies the DNA of the Ralph Lauren of today.) Yet with the rampant conquest of Dior's Parisian New Look in 1947 many in the new world (as much as the old) pledged that the haute had to be indoorsy, impractical and unsporty. (Eschew that mud, tip out the sand in that shoe). In the face of this European turn, C. Z. became a torch bearer for this easy wardrobe of the great American outdoors; for the garb of those born to enjoy the vast continent.
C.Z. Guest at Boca Raton Club in Palm Beach, Florida, for a Polo Ball, 1955.
C. Z. at Villa Artemis. Photograph by Slim Aarons.
She encouraged the careers of iconic designers such as Oscar de la Renta, who recalled her at a grand party in a satin skirt and a loose cashmere swearer. He had never seen someone dress so easily. But then, life came easily to C. Z.; de la Renta said she seemed to assume throughout her life ‘that everybody had a pony’. Taking a more sympathetic view, a New York Times fashion critic once put it, C. Z.'s was ‘was an enchanting life, and what wasn't enchanting about it she had the good manners to keep to herself.’ She designed a run of cashmere sweaters in 1985, which were displayed flung over the shoulders of Adolfo models at a show of that year. Her face, with a restrained, wan beauty, pulled you in – and she became a muse for many a famous picture-maker. Cecil Beaton depicted her relentlessly. Diego Rivera painted her nude in Mexico as she toured the country. (Her in-laws bought up the picture upon her wedding – a decision which might have been prudish, or flattering.) She also became a muse to the poolside man, Slim Aarons – and Andy Warhol and Salvador Dalí also made pictures of C. Z.
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