The Vogue Factor: The Inside Story of Fashion's Most Illustrious Magazine by Kirstie Clements Page A
Authors: Kirstie Clements
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Redford had taken a hasty retreat. I did spot him later that afternoon leaving the hotel, and he waved and smiled at me.I’ve met many celebrities over the years but that encounter was fun, because it was by chance and the conversation was natural. Until I blew it.
The Sun Moon Stars festivities were still rolling along. At another grand dinner we were presented with a bottle of the fragrance, which was an opaque navy-blue orb etched with, naturally enough, the sun, moon and stars. I’m not sure that it smelled particularly special, but the branding was all very high-end and it felt a bit thirties, which I liked. At the end of dinner the assembled journalists were given a scroll, wrapped with a navy satin ribbon. Upon unfurling the missive we discovered that—officially—each of us had a star named after us. Seriously. There will forever be a star, out there in space, called Kirstie Clements.
By this time Lee, Deb and I had settled into a perpetual clinking of wine glasses, toasting to our ridiculous good fortune. Then the news emerged that Jackie Onassis had passed away. Darryl Hannah was, at the time, dating John F. Kennedy Jr., so we were informed that she would be unable to attend at the official dinner. It went ahead regardless, hosted by Karl Lagerfeld at his magnificent villa. It was one of the most memorable evenings in my career. Lagerfeld was at the head table in the center of the room, surrounded by Princess Caroline and Prince Albert of Monaco, photographer Helmut Newton and his wife Alice Springs, with Michael Hutchence and then girlfriend Helena Christensen. Despite the dinner being very opulent, there was a lovely casualness to the event which meant we could walk back and forth from the terrace (to watch the specially arranged fireworks
naturelment
). I exchanged pleasantries on my way to the bathroom with Prince Albert, and was introduced to Karl for the first time, which thankfully was not to be the last. All of this against the backdrop of alanguid May night on the Cote D’Azur with the moonlight shimmering on the surface of the sea.
Once back in Paris I contacted the Arden PR in Australia to thank her for a most remarkable trip and to inquire in which month’s issue she would like the story placed. Boy, this was going to have to be a killer piece. She told me she would get back to me, but months went past and there was no word. After a few promptings, the news came through. For reasons unexplained, everything was canceled. The Sun Moon Stars fragrance wasn’t going to launch.
We could forget we’d ever seen it. Unfortunately I no longer have the bottle, which would be a collector’s item indeed. But, hey, we all still have our star in the sky.
6
UPHEAVAL
B y early 1997 I had very much settled into my life in Paris, and found a happy routine balancing motherhood and work commitments. There were frequent visitors from Australia, and at least twice a year magazine colleagues would arrive for the RTW shows in February and September, which was always a treat. Along with my wonderful friend Charla Carter, there was plenty of good company available, with a vibrant expatriate community. But as many Australians who have relocated to cold climates have observed, when your children begin to walk and play, you start to miss our sunny outdoor lifestyle. It’s all very well dressing tiny babies up in beige Bonpoint cashmere for the first six months, but when the child is two, and fighting like a Tasmanian Devil as you try to force him into his padded
combinasion
, visions of T-shirts and bare feet at the beach are never far from your thoughts.
Whenever I was housebound with the twins, I would make a valiant attempt in the afternoons to take them out into the fresh air. Joseph and Sam both detested being dressed. I would begin the Herculean task with the first one, shoving him into his Petit Bateau bodysuit,sweater, overalls, socks, beanie, gloves, boots and ski suit, while he kicked and screamed. The
The Sun Moon Stars festivities were still rolling along. At another grand dinner we were presented with a bottle of the fragrance, which was an opaque navy-blue orb etched with, naturally enough, the sun, moon and stars. I’m not sure that it smelled particularly special, but the branding was all very high-end and it felt a bit thirties, which I liked. At the end of dinner the assembled journalists were given a scroll, wrapped with a navy satin ribbon. Upon unfurling the missive we discovered that—officially—each of us had a star named after us. Seriously. There will forever be a star, out there in space, called Kirstie Clements.
By this time Lee, Deb and I had settled into a perpetual clinking of wine glasses, toasting to our ridiculous good fortune. Then the news emerged that Jackie Onassis had passed away. Darryl Hannah was, at the time, dating John F. Kennedy Jr., so we were informed that she would be unable to attend at the official dinner. It went ahead regardless, hosted by Karl Lagerfeld at his magnificent villa. It was one of the most memorable evenings in my career. Lagerfeld was at the head table in the center of the room, surrounded by Princess Caroline and Prince Albert of Monaco, photographer Helmut Newton and his wife Alice Springs, with Michael Hutchence and then girlfriend Helena Christensen. Despite the dinner being very opulent, there was a lovely casualness to the event which meant we could walk back and forth from the terrace (to watch the specially arranged fireworks
naturelment
). I exchanged pleasantries on my way to the bathroom with Prince Albert, and was introduced to Karl for the first time, which thankfully was not to be the last. All of this against the backdrop of alanguid May night on the Cote D’Azur with the moonlight shimmering on the surface of the sea.
Once back in Paris I contacted the Arden PR in Australia to thank her for a most remarkable trip and to inquire in which month’s issue she would like the story placed. Boy, this was going to have to be a killer piece. She told me she would get back to me, but months went past and there was no word. After a few promptings, the news came through. For reasons unexplained, everything was canceled. The Sun Moon Stars fragrance wasn’t going to launch.
We could forget we’d ever seen it. Unfortunately I no longer have the bottle, which would be a collector’s item indeed. But, hey, we all still have our star in the sky.
6
UPHEAVAL
B y early 1997 I had very much settled into my life in Paris, and found a happy routine balancing motherhood and work commitments. There were frequent visitors from Australia, and at least twice a year magazine colleagues would arrive for the RTW shows in February and September, which was always a treat. Along with my wonderful friend Charla Carter, there was plenty of good company available, with a vibrant expatriate community. But as many Australians who have relocated to cold climates have observed, when your children begin to walk and play, you start to miss our sunny outdoor lifestyle. It’s all very well dressing tiny babies up in beige Bonpoint cashmere for the first six months, but when the child is two, and fighting like a Tasmanian Devil as you try to force him into his padded
combinasion
, visions of T-shirts and bare feet at the beach are never far from your thoughts.
Whenever I was housebound with the twins, I would make a valiant attempt in the afternoons to take them out into the fresh air. Joseph and Sam both detested being dressed. I would begin the Herculean task with the first one, shoving him into his Petit Bateau bodysuit,sweater, overalls, socks, beanie, gloves, boots and ski suit, while he kicked and screamed. The
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