The noted designer shares his opinions on and memories of fifty years of fashion and its driving forces as well as Hollywood, men, women, and friendship.
Such an interesting man and one of the first important modern American designers. This book completed something truly spectacular by taking seemingly interesting topics, spending whole chapters on these, and going no where.
This book is less of a biography and more of a list of people Bill Blass knew. Quite honestly, he is the most boring writer I have read. I could not finish this book and I really tried hard.
He has the weirdest views on sex, sexuality, and masculinity that he prides himself on which makes him out to be quite the snob.
Really I can’t stand talking about this book it really was a waste of time.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
The first few chapters are the most interesting, mostly because that's where Blass talks about his participation in the Ghost Army during WWII; beyond that, it's kind of sad.
Not sad because it was filled with tragedy, just a seemingly sad existence: there is no substance, no evolution of character, just the acquisition of more fashion years and more names to drop. And even those names are depressing, as unless you were around during the Eisenhower administration, you won't know who is he talking about half the time.
I'm sure this is a good approximation of what it would be like to chat with the glamorous but rough designer Bill Blass. If you are unfamiliar or can't stomach pages of socialite name-dropping from the latter half of the 20th century then flip forward to page 121 and laugh out loud at the beautiful disaster that was backstage at the legendary Versailles fashion show, where the (comparatively) fledgeling American designers were invited to France to show alongside greats like Dior and Cardin.
I think some of the reviews for this book are a little harsh, because it was really fun to read. I liked the conversational feel of it and the layout of this book is amazing. I wished there was more meat in some chapters and less name dropping and could have done without the chapter or two about his decorating, but I got a feel of who he was, which is the goal of a memoir.
He is such a snob, but not really in the fun Andre Leon Talley way. But oh well.
This book was written by the designer, Bill Blass shortly before his death. It deals primarily with his life after he arrived in New York. Little information is given about how he worked. The book contains numerous photos including some in color. It was an easy read.
This is an all-time favorite. I had to re-read this because Bill's voice is so compelling. He begins his narration reminiscent of Robert Evans' narration of his auto-bio pic, The Kid Stays in the Picture. Irreverent, self-effacing and funny.
Bill's story is interesting because he defied the conventions of fashion industry in the early days. As a gay designer, he refused to be boxed in to any expectation of femininity. Bill was a man's man as well as a lady's man.
Interesting too, he inadvertently offers some pyschology of why he was at once so beloved, but distant. Grew up during the Great Depression, his father committed suicide early in his life and left his mother a widow, with a cloud of stigma that buried questions and sentimentality.
Bill had a sense of humor about his snobbishness, which made him unpretentious, unlike Halston who became so ubiquitous and drove his shining star into a smoulder quickly in the 70s. Bill's failure was on his terms and with dignity and ultimately, enduring presence in the consciousness of American fashion.
I am rereading this wonderful book after finding it on a shelf completely forgotten about from years ago. In his own words Mr. Blass writes fairly candidly about his life. Some areas in a bit more depth than others. It is a charming, witty, debanoir, look at one of the greatest tastemakers of our time. Some great quotes- my favourite being-
Lying on the beach at Fire Island in the late 50's spotting someone in a caftan and tons of jewelery: