I first found this book during one of my frequent Amazon.com surfs and was intrigued by the title because elegance, as a concept, seems to be rather antiquated. I have heard barely a handful of people described as elegant (aside from Oscar red carpet critiques) in my life, and it seems such a broad idea that I couldn't imagine how anyone could undertake to writing a guide on how to be elegant. However, Dariaux states right off that she is limiting her guidance to the area of expertise that she knew well: fashion. In the 1940s and 1950s she created a line of Haute Couture costume jewelry and a minor design house of her own before becoming the directress of salons for the Nina Ricci house of design in Paris. Apart from being her career, creating a beautiful "look" for a client was clearly her passion and her book is an undertaking to give women what she saw as the very basics of good taste.
Upon an initial glance through of the books, which is organized alphabetically by topic (Accessories, Button, Chic, etc.), I could not help but think, "The proper way to wear hats? Girdles? Well, this will be horribly out of date, but I'm sure it will still be interesting." Not twenty minutes into reading I was choking on the humble pie that Dariaux and tossed, firmly but of course elegantly, into my teeth. And I was taking both stock of my closet and notes!
Granted some of the topics she covers are genuinely behind the times for most of us (ball gowns, debutante parties, girdles and other "unmentionables," and the idea of it being a necessity to change one's outfits several times a day), but only a few pages in I was surprised to read the words "skinny belts," and not to much further on "espadrilles," "knee high socks enjoying a revival," and the essential nature of "a few vintage pieces." Wait a second, what decade was this written in again?
Almost effortlessly, Dariaux manages to remind the reader that while fashion has obviously shifted, style remains essentially the same. Age is no boundary to style, she proclaims, "A woman can be elegant until the end of her days...don't give up wearing high heels; just choose them lower and sturdier." She covers how to dress for any occasion and every type of clothing from overcoats to negligees, but most important what she emphasizes why dressing well is so essential: it is the outer portrayal of the battle we all fight to emphasize our good points and minimize (if not hide) our bad ones.
Occasionally, in spite of her claim to stick only to fashion, little gems of her personal philosophy leak through, which actually form some of the most engrossing categories of the book. Between the categories "Furs" and "Gloves" are several paragraphs dedicated to "Gestures" and how the effects of a wardrobe from the fingertips of Christian Dior himself are completely overshadowed by small acts of inelegant behavior (which include things from adjusting one's bra to speaking too loudly at the table). Even taking photos has a formula in the Gospel According to Dariaux: re-edit your photo album ever ten years or so to avoid embarrassment. She even offers up her opinion on the three types of husbands 1) the Blind Man who takes two years to notice your new suit, who's advantage is that he lets you dress in peace, 2) the Tyrant who thinks he knows best and invariably wants his wife to dress like his mother, and 3) the Ideal Husband who is genuinely interested in your clothes and admires you more than any other woman in the world. "If you possess this dream man, hang on to him," she cautions, "He is extremely rare." And cubic zircons? "[they] may be classified as 'imitations' and for this reason they do not really belong in an elegant wardrobe."
Reading her book I got the feeling that I would feel twice as nervous being introduced to Madame Dariaux than the Queen of England! Somehow in the privacy of my own home, stretched out on my couch at eleven o'clock at night she managed to make me feel unfit to be in her presence dressed as I was in my tee shirt and sweatpants. I found myself patting myself on the back when I recalled certain items in my closet that obviously would have received approval and inwardly cringing to remember certain lapses of taste, some more recent than I care to admit. I had a spontaneous and irresistible craving for mink (even though I don't wear fur) and simultaneously plotted out a limited and tight budget for a fabulously French wardrobe. I kicked myself for not preserving the lustre of my pearls by wearing them enough and committed to buying more cashmere and less Old Navy.
This book may be dangerous for your health, fashionably speaking; it will make want to storm your closet and rip half of your clothes to shreds, but it will also remind you that such behavior would probably be less than refined, surely you can have a nice, quiet bonfire somewhere and no one will be the wiser. You will find yourself perplexed at the things women subjected themselves to half a century ago in the name of beauty before realizing that the process is little altered today. And you may even feel the smallest craving, as I did, that the days of veils, hats, really well made gloves, and true dedication to elegance is fading.
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