I went hunting for Meryle Secrest’s new biography of Elsa
Schiaparelli after listening to an NPR interview with her last week. I love the
development of fashion in the first half of the 20th Century, and
Schiaparelli’s designs have always delighted me.
It might be because she was so closely aligned with the Surrealists,
and worked with Salvador Dalí and Jean Cocteau on some of her more fantastic
creations. Plus—the lines, the colors, the exuberance…
Well, were I not between gigs I’d probably have just
ordered the book from Amazon, but these days, given the choice between
splashing out even the discounted $25.23 or getting it from a library pretty
much always tilts towards the latter.
And, boy am I grateful. I’m only on page 34, and already
I’m feeling a little sick in my throat from Secrest’s breathy style. I
particularly despise the device of switching back and forth between present and
past tense for no apparent reason.
Also, at not even ten percent of the way through the book,
she’s already located the Bay of Biscay off Newfoundland, and Duluth in Iowa.
When I see that kind of carelessness (or ignorance; but certainly a listless
editor), I always wonder about other “facts” I’m being presented that are
equally erroneous. The ones I can’t easily vet.
So today, I’m very, very grateful that I didn’t fork out
actual money for this book. Better the Mountain View Public Library’s nickel
than mine.
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