Between my Russian bathtime and juice detoxes, I've been reading Grace Coddington's new memoir, "Grace".
I love a good story of a woman beating the odds- and her accomplishments are definitely impressive. Women of her generation have always interested me- it was the first time women went for what they wanted, there's a drive there that I admire, a rebellious independence I intrigued by. As a young woman today, I appreciate the struggles they faced as pioneers for generations of woman to be able to work if that's what made them happy. And who wouldn't be positively overjoyed to go from a small town in Ireland to the creative director of the biggest fashion magazine in the world? This isn't the first time she's found herself on the pinnacle of enormous change in fashon. She was on the forefront in the sixties when modeling first began to push the envelope with artistically liberated imagery, taking models from stiff mannequins to dynamic and intriguing creatures in the eyes of the American public and changing the industry forever.
So understandably I fancy Grace as a personal role model - not only for having quite possibly one of the most interesting positions in the industry but even more so for having turned her days propped in front of the camera into such an amazing career. It takes a very intelligent and confident woman to accomplish what she has, and that is precisely the kind of woman I truly madly deeply girl crush on. So as soon as I heard of her memoir I ran to buy the enormous book that very day and have been lugging the brick of a thing around to jobs with me all week trying to get to know her.
It's only around 350 pages, but it only comes in paperback and is full of illustrations which makes it seem enormous. The first chapter is a long description of her really quite bleak and depressing childhood in Ireland. Then the book completely changes pace (thank god) -when she moves to London and starts frequenting dinner parties with David Bailey and his many friends and conquests (he was a notorious flirt). She mentions none of the beauty of that freeing moment in time, where the world was suddenly open to all kinds of possibilities. No sexual liberation, political or social inspiration. She briefly mentions AIDS in the seventies, but it played no significant role in the book as a whole.
She does mention that the time when Yves Saint Laurent ruled fashion the seventies inspiring her greatly- she lived in Paris at the time and frequented cafe select, sipping on café with Karl Lagerfeld, and embarking deep, longstanding friendships with characters like David Bailey and Manolo Blahnik - in the case of those of you who don't know who David Bailey is, look him up. He was a super hot, immensely talented notorious flirt and womanizer who hang out with Andy Warhol and dated one of the first supermodels, Jean Shrimpton. But much to my disappointment there were no examples of wonder or extravagance, nor any of the edgy, creative.. or progressive talk I would have imagined swirled around the table of the "fabulous freaks in their seventies chic." Only a long list of her YSL outfits and descriptions of the fashion girls' obsession with anything and everything from his collections. Maybe I'm a little book snobby but it would have been SO much more entertaining if she had delved in on some of their wild times and actually developed a plot line! But she's not about to give away any of the nitty gritty details of her seemingly amazing life, which I sigh and accepted as I crawled through the end of the book.
There is one particularly beautiful photo I really would have liked a back story for -she's in the south of France with Helmut Newton, David Bailey, Anjelica Huston, and Manolo Blahnik looking beautifully tipsy and having a great old time. These are the moments I bought the book to hear about. I want to know who these iconic personas are as human beings, what they fought for, who they loved.
As the book progresses it becomes more of a glorified list of all of the people she knew, her favorite outfits, and the drama that is the high school cafeteria culture of American Vogue. There are lots of cool photos from when she used to model and the shoots she directed at British and French Vogue, as well as many of her own personal sketches and shoots -but she hardly touches on her personal life- coldly mentioning first, second, third husband before moving on to her monumental YSL suit or Kenzo moment.Truthfully I think that's what she thought the people wanted to hear - about the clothes and the business - the woman is her business. And thats alright. But she decided to write a memoir - which is to be personal in essence. The frigidity of her prose and lack of emotional description during pivotal moments in her life was completely estranging. Her life has an incredibly rich story line, that she could drawn me in with far more than "one time on this shoot.." "then another shoot.." its interesting - but there needs to be some kind of progression or personal growth in there somewhere. When her sister died (leaving a young boy for her to care for) would have been a great time to humanize herself into a flawed emotional creature like the rest of us and talk about her no doubt complex emotions. But she quickly changes the subject to less vulnerable topics. I didn't end this book feeling like I understood any more of the genius behind the woman for which the book was named. Some kind of development in herself as a character, lessons learned, desires and passions, any insight into how she had evolved as an individual would have been nice.
Honestly, you could have opened up a little more, Grace. We look up to you.
She does get a little more into detail later on in the book, with Anna seemingly as the main protagonist - giving her credit for changing the way fashion operates (namely far more celebrity oriented), turning it into a much more successful marketing tool instead of a form of artistic expression. Which is what I think this book is.: a marketing tool. She obviously doesn't trust the reader enough to actually share her life with us.
Her most prophetic moment in the book is a blurb underneath a chapter heading "In which our heroine recognizes that life is often a long series of losses." Quite telling as to why she didn't include any of life's ugliness. And she's right- it's not as perfect as fashion- its ugly and transient and flawed - but that's what makes life beautiful.
At the end of the day, I would recommend you giving it a try. I personally would appreciate a little more depth from her - but this way it' s quick read with plenty of picture booking.
