When I read that this book was coming out (in an article about the restoration by Peter Marino of the villa), I immediately called Hickory Stick Books in Washington Depot and pre-ordered a copy.
This was in May 2025, and the book was coming out in late September. The anticipation made the summer brighter and more joyful amid all the terrible news coming out of the United States.
Finally having put my hands on my copy, at almost $200, I was surprised that the gorgeous blue cloth cover did not have a clear plastic dust jacket. (Tsk, tsk, Flammarion.) Still, I got out my cutting mat and knife and made one myself.
Finding the right place to read this book was a challenge. Because the book is large and heavy, I couldn't read it on my commute. And it has several delightful inserts that would have been in danger of falling out if I had opened the book on the subway: facsimiles of postcards, documents, drawings, etc. that make it feel as if you are flipping through someone's private album.
Eventually we were snowed in, and I cracked it open for a serious read.
First of all, I thoroughly enjoyed this book.
Now, I will state up front: I thought this book would be about the restoration of the house and that there would be more images of the interiors as executed by Peter Marino.
Wrong! There are no photos of the villa as currently conceived. As for Marino, there is a short interview with him that serves as a bit of introduction, but I was not impressed.
What this book is, is a collection in one place of both published and unpublished photos of Chanel and her society and art world friends enjoying some relaxation time in this beautiful space shortly before the war started.
There is a chapter devoted to the design of the house, with wonderful architectural drawings from the period. And there are photos showing the interiors, from a few series that were published at the time.
But I had seen a lot of these photos in a monograph published in 2015 by the museum in Dallas that housed the replica of the great hall. Admittedly that little book, though well written and concise, was not printed on seductive creamy and thick paper as the present volume is, which makes it such a pleasure to hold and flick through.
Also, there are a lot of repetitions. For example, in the chapter on Dalí, they reproduce a letter from the painter (who is staying at La Pausa with his wife for an extended period) in which he tells Chanel in French that he will continue to write to her, even though he knows she won't write back. Then the the letter is transcribed and translated. Then the same line is quoted in the following narrative, as well as in the side bar that comes after.
How I would have loved a chapter on the restoration with detail photos of the materials and the furniture and the archives. We get the message of what the house meant for Chanel THEN, but what can it mean for us today? Is it destined to be a museum only?
Still, an opportunity to glance through photos of this beautiful house and a chance to see the life of its most remarkable owner, mostly in the year 1938, are not things to be dismissed lightly.
They are to be cherished and perused again and again, with pleasure. (Preferably while wearing a dab of Chanel No. 5.)