Like both my parents Oscar De la Renta (1934-2014) was born in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic. Like my father, he was a dominos aficionado. He was born, “to a Dominican mother of Spanish descent (particularly Canarian), Carmen María Antonia Fiallo, and a Puerto Rican father, Oscar Avelino de la Renta.” My mother was Dominican of Spanish descent and her mother was a fashion designer. My grandfather, Rafael Ricart, was a politician, poet, and prominent business man. His cousin was Octavia Ricart, wife of Trujillo, the dictator’s, son. So… I imagine that at some point my grandfather and his woman, Maria Dolores, the fashion designer, may have interacted, socially, with De la Renta’s family. It may not be true, but when I heard, last night, over dinner with my family, that De la Renta was on the way to the Big House in the Sky, I wept a tear, of sadness that I never met the man.
His story, the excellence of his work as a fashion designer, touch me. “De la Renta’s heritage mixes Dominican great great grandfather José Ortiz de la Renta was the first constitutional mayor of Ponce, Puerto Rico to be elected by popular vote.” Last year I visited Puerto Rico, for the first time. We stayed near Fajador, at The Waldorf Astoria Casitas Resort. It was very luxurious but what really made the trip great was the instant kinship I feel with Dominican Republic’s English speaking, neighbors. In San Jan, we visited a museum focused on the stories of the Caribbean people.
De la Renta was a citizen of the world. “At the age of 18, he left the Dominican Republic to study in Spain, where he studied painting at the Academy of San Fernando in Madrid, Spain.” He studied painting! I understand this step to his total mastery of color and form in fashion. (Frau Kolb paints!) The study of color informs every outfit I’ve ever put together. In New York, one may wear mostly black, yet… this is only as a means of entry anywhere and protection from urban grime, a film that covers subway seats and hotel beds… Fashion is for me more than a mere spectator sport. Ease may spring from an aesthetic approach to living. Wearing clothing that fit, flatter, and reflect one’s values, distinguishes an individual. De la Renta, knew that people want clothing that helps them look attractive yet blend in. He was not the most daring of designers. De la Renta was at the head of a clothing empire, selling everything from perfumes to masses and evening gowns to the elite. (In New York City, fashion is an everyday fact. People may wear layers of black, but the awareness that fabric and cut matter, is profound. On the streets of New York one may read another’s fabric choices, noticing the leather, the cashmere, the better silk blouses.) To live in harmony with one’s environment and to add an understanding of color… yes… that might be the ideal fashion state. What more ready self expression than an owning of color theory and clever implementation of the facts, yielding appealing results; black recedes from the eye… HOT PINK, packs punch!
De la Renta, dressed generations of world-class Fashionistas. Jackie Onasis, first lady of American style, wore his designs. More recently, we have the image of fashion Icon Sarah Jessica Parker strutting, rocking, making an occasion in one of his fantastic frocks. Spanish goddess, Penelope Cruz and less attractive Hilary Clinton and most… interestingly… Nancy Regan were among his notable political showpieces.
Oh! How I love to think of young De la Renta, just after he, “began sketching for leading Spanish fashion houses, which soon led to an apprenticeship with Spain’s most renowned couturier, Cristóbal Balenciaga.” (I love Balenciaga! The best boots I’ve ever had, bought at Barney’s New York in Beverly Hills, and still in operation and favor, a decade later). It is said, by the writers of wikipedia, that De la Renta, “considers Cristóbal Balenciaga his mentor.” Imagine that! (Those relationships, ever so vital, the people we meet, when we are young, and impressionable, turn out to be… our mentors!) I am beyond ready for an excellent bio-film, in which this pivotal moment in the mega designer’s career is explored.
“Later, de la Renta left Spain to join Antonio del Castillo as a couture assistant at Lanvin in Paris.” Again, I can relate to this aspect of his biography in that I adore Lanvin flats. I was wearing my favorite golden pair we visited the Eiffel tower. I wore them with a Missioni dress I treasure one of a couple Missioni dresses, which are my go-to, public wear (easy, never too much, Missioni’s knits fit me.). I wear Lanvin flats, habitually. I’ve had them in “Gunboat Metallic,” and “black velvet.” I wear them religiously because flat as they look, they conceal a little (magic) heal, which makes them the most comfortable walking shoes with style, I’ve ever known.
I’d love to be a De la Renta woman, that top-notch Fashion forward, clothing conscious woman that distinguishes herself from all others by the monumental quality of her stunning gowns. Yet, I’ve not worn many a formal gown. I am a California Beach Mom. For many years, I’ve moved in a world where flip-flops are de rigor and hair combing is optional. I can count the number of formal events I’ve attended, in my entire life, in one hand. Fashion for me, is less runway and palace, more Gallery and Museum. Anything, I wear to the the studio becomes trash. Yet, I’m a stickler for quality in clothes. I believe in investing in wear that one can depend on. I’m a fabric fanatic, forever fascinated with cashmere, silk, and cotton. The significance of wearing comfortable clothing that looks distinct is not to be dismissed. Yet, the dream of being a princess attired for the world stage is one that De la Renta’s women brought to life. De la Renta, in his life, designed the dreams to cloth naked souls and give shape to ambitions larger than Texas.
Cafe Constant; Rue Saint-Dominique 75007 Paris, France
st prominent national symbol, a monumentally scaled architectural art object, and space-age cash cow (the tower is the world’s most visited paid monument). My husband and I are sporty people and despite my swollen foot, I am faster than most tourists, bellies bulging, and all that jiggly jazz, but NOT faster than the fascinating Tattooed French Lady. She was very thin and had very short hair. Tattoos in the pattern of leopard skin and high-end Fashion brand logos (CoCo Chanel, Givenchy, and so on…) covered her arms in permanent sleeves. Her Lover, perhaps her husband, an adoring pierced man, a few inches shorter than her (and she was not tall) was one step, just, behind her. They waited on line with us and climbed at almost exactly the same rate. By the time we reached the first platform level I felt as though I knew her, them, a little. Perhaps… this feeling was illusionary. But, I was feeling connected with humanity as we reached higher levels, together.
The couple, I observed, without thinking if they noticed me noticing them. It seemed to me that they were Parisians. They were among the few locals among the mostly international tourists. She was more emotionally reserved than him and kept quiet as he nibbled on her neck and we all waited to buy our tickets. I noted how much more demonstrative couples in Paris are, not only were the pair behind us on line comfortable engaging in loving touch while waiting to race us up to the first and then to the SUMMIT Level, near top, where a little room, houses a funky little instillation of dummies dressed up in period costumes representing Monsieur Eiffel and his big hat wearing corseted daughter and a phonograph bestowing mustached and tweed wearing mannequin representing the celebrated American businessman, Thomas Edison.
