Merci et Adieu

The past few months and most recent weeks still remain a blur.

My mind has been reeling from its efforts to comprehend the passing of fashion great and icon Yves Saint Laurent in early June, not to mention the earlier and subsequent deaths of director Sydney Pollack and comedian George Carlin. Seeing so many great men leave us within such a short span of time really drives home the notion that nothing in this life should be taken for granted. You come into this world, you hopefully make your mark and then you leave, and often with little or no warning. Monsieur Saint Laurent had been retired for the better part of the past six years, having become quite reclusive while quietly struggling with brain cancer. A revolutionary among couturiers, Saint Laurent’s impact on the fashion world was conspicuous and undeniable, maintaining an ineffaceable French impression that had been cultivated as a youth during his time working under Christian Dior. He introduced the world of women’s fashion to Le Smoking Suit, the effects of which can still be seen today in women’s pant suits around the globe. He was the first to popularize the prêt-à-porter concept with his Rive Gauche line in addition to being the first designer to use black models in his runway shows. And in his absence, his impressions will continue to live on through the legacy he created with his designs and through his label.

One can only hope to make even a hint of such an impression during his or her lifetime.
The blur of the past few months and recent weeks saw me working to solidify my own impressions, both immediate and distant.

I was in France for my wedding, specifically the rural countryside of the Centre-Val de Loire region where my uncle and his family make their home. The ceremony itself was deliberately intimate with only a few guests in attendance who weren’t actual family members. Our vows were exchanged as dusk approached and immediately following a steady rain that had only moments earlier dusted the 200-year old estate. It was indeed a blessing and more than I could have hoped for in terms of a proper celebration of life and love before family, friends and the beauty of the Loire Valley.

In the days leading up to the ceremony, we were in Paris and happened upon the YSL headquarters on Avenue George V. The entire city block was still surrounded by police barricades, remnants from the observance of the designer’s passing and funeral procession only days earlier. The immediate area of the bustling street still presented a welcoming calm, the type of calm that only a city still in mourning can present, although now relegated to a quiet corner of the city. Silhouettes of workers in the building could be seen traveling about, most of whom I could only imagine were still coping with the death of the iconic man while the rest of Paris were busy paying him tribute. Countless magazine covers and newspaper articles saturated the French media while online blogs and television spots touted the legacy of the consummate artiste.

Both my immediate and distant life impressions have always been subject to the influence of giants such as Saint Laurent. And I have often wondered how my influence might be measured both during my time here on this Earth and once I have passed; whether or not I will be revered by my loved ones in the same way of the giants who have so influenced my own impressions, or if my existence will simply be reflected upon as nothing more than an afterthought to those who once knew me.

With my wedding, and ultimately my partnership and marriage, the intent was to do so much more than solidify these impressions, both immediate and distant. It was to create a timeless moment without pause or subsequent diversions, in an atmosphere consumed by only love and beauty, which would inevitably transcend the length of my existence.



At the steps of Cathédrale Saint-Étienne de Bourges

I know that my impressions will simply pale in comparison to someone who has been loved for so long and by so many. However, his life and his work have left a legacy to be admired, one that has been unbiased both by tragedy and by greatness. My own life, in its relative position, has been witness to its fair share of tranquil and classic moments, but none more classic than that of my wedding day, balanced with the awareness that even this timeless moment, without pause or subsequent diversions, will too someday soon come to pass. But with that in mind, I count my blessings each day for the miracle of love and for the gift that is my life, and for the love of my wife with whom I will share that gift…

And also for the greatness of a man and of an artiste whose own existence embodied the very meaning of timeless moments consumed by passion and love.

Saint Laurent’s business partner and lover Pierre Bergé gave a tearful speech at the funeral service, which was held at the Eglise Saint-Roche, and had this to say:

“I don’t know how to say good-bye because I can never leave you. We will never watch a sunset together again. We will never share the emotions together before a painting again. Someday I will join you under the palm trees of Morocco.”

The fashion great was cremated before friends and family and his ashes spread across a garden in Marrakesh at a house he owned with Bergé.

“Le plus grand faible des hommes, c’est l’amour qu’ils ont de la vie.” - Molière

Merci et adieu, Monsieur Saint Laurent.



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