Talley Guide
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Tally Guide Pdf
Talley chose the fabric, a reversible Gucci gold and crimson Chinese brocade covered in leaping tigers. It took three fittings to get the final robe right. When he puts it on, which he has for all of his film-related appearances — a screening at the Tribeca Film Festival; a cocktail party in his honor at the Montclair Film Festival; a screening at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art; an appearance on “Late Night With Seth Meyers”; his portrait for this story — he looks like a gilded Spanish galleon parting the waves, with some gray storm clouds dusting the top of his head.
“I wanted people to know how proud I was of a black man who finally got his proper due and respect from the vicious, cruel beast of fashion,” Mr. Talley said about why he chose Mr. But if you watch the documentary, which traces Mr. Talley’s journey from the black enclave of Durham, N.C., where he was raised by his grandmother, to the seclusion of his own garden by way of the Met Gala, Vogue and Paris, it’s hard not to think that he was also talking about himself.
And that this movie is one way of demanding his due. The movie, filled with commentary from fashion figures including Valentino Garavani, Marc Jacobs and Anna Wintour, is dripping with paillettes and brocade. But it is rooted in the frame home where Mr. Talley grew up, the black church where he was baptized and the Duke University students who once stoned him when he crossed campus on Sundays to buy Vogue.
“He was so many things he was not supposed to be,” Whoopi Goldberg, an old friend, says in the film. As a young man in the South, he was not supposed to dream of being a fashion editor. He was not supposed to go to Brown University for his master’s degree and write a thesis on the influence of black women in Baudelaire and Flaubert and in the paintings of Delacroix. He was not supposed to get an internship with Ms. Vreeland at the Costume Institute, or a job at Andy Warhol’s Interview, or go to Paris and be the only black man in the front row of couture shows, or become creative director of Vogue. ‘Where are all the black people?’ For most of his professional life, race was not a subject Mr. Talley liked to discuss.
He didn’t talk about it with Ms. Wintour or Mr. De la Renta, even though they were supposed to be his good friends. He hinted at it in his work, most notably a 1996 Vanity Fair shoot photographed by Karl Lagerfeld in which Mr. Talley ” and had Naomi Campbell playing Scarlett O’Hara and the white designers John Galliano and Manolo Blahnik playing her servants. Talley was more apt to discuss Marie Antoinette and the shoes of Louis XIV and the books of Toni Morrison, not how difficult it was to be, as Hilton Als wrote in a 1994 profile of him in The New Yorker, “The Only One.” Making the documentary, however, has uncorked some of those feelings.
“There’ve been some very cruel and racist moments in my life in the world of fashion,” Mr. “Incidents when people were harmful and meanspirited and terrifying.”. In the film he talks about learning that the fashion set in Paris were calling him “Queen Kong.” He later told Mr. Petkanas that the slur had been coined by Clara Saint, the head of public relations for Yves Saint Laurent, and he names her freely now. Recently he has been telling another story, which is also in the film. “One of my bosses — I will not name him because he is still alive — one of the male bosses at Women’s Wear came to Paris and said: ‘Rumors are you’re going in and out of every designer bed in Paris.
You’ve slept with every designer.’ And that simply was not true. I’ve never been to any designer’s bed. I got my success on my looks and my knowledge, not my sexual appeal. Am I supposed to be a buck, servicing sexually everybody in Paris?
That was a very racist thing.”. When he tells this story in public, he often defangs it by rolling his eyes and pursing his lips, and then appending a joke about wanting to be in designers’ beds without the actual designer to see what kind of fancy sheets they had. But when he tells it in private, he doesn’t add the comic flourishes, and the muscle between his eyebrows contracts in an involuntary spasm. For all the talk lately about the need for diversity on fashion runways, there has been much less about the fact that its executives and designers and editors in chief have been, and are still, largely white.
“Where are the black people?” Mr. “I look around everywhere and say, ‘Where are the black people?’ I think fashion tries to skirt the issue and finds convenient ways to spin it. There are examples of evolution, but they are few and far between.
The biggest leap of faith was Edward Enninful becoming — that was an extraordinary thing.” Still, as far as progress made in the more than three decades Mr. Talley has been letting the insults bounce off his caftans, it doesn’t seem like very much. “As the world turns, it does not turn very fast,” he said. He is hoping the film speeds it up. Enninful, for one, thinks it will. “It will mean a lot to a new generation to see that there was this man who grew up in the South and through all obstacles made it, because it will give young black kids hope and the aspiration to be in this industry,” he said. Talley is also hoping it provides a platform to vault him to the next stage in his life.
“I could see myself being an Oscar Wilde and going on the road and sitting on stage and talking,” he said. When he said this, he was having lunch at Majorelle, a French restaurant on the Upper East Side that he loves because of its flower arrangements, its pistachio souffle and because it shares a name with Yves Saint Laurent’s garden in Marrakesh.