I don’t know about all y’all, but for me Christmas isn’t Christmas if I don’t get at least one fantastic book that I burn through like a flash fire. This year, I asked for (Thanks Ro and George!) and got this marvelous book about Diana Vreeland:
Honestly, it was everything I hoped for and more — much more biographical detail than Vreeland put into her own books (Allure and D.V.), much more historical context (I had no idea of the connections between Vreeland and Warhol, for instance), and many, many, many fantastic quotes, including:
I suffered, as only the very young can suffer, the torture of being conspicuous.
When you’ve heard the word, it means so much more than if you’ve only seen it.
You must always give ideas away. Under every idea is a new one waiting to be born.
Luck is infatuated with the efficient.
Funny girls would rather look interesting than safely pretty. The look they avoid, in fact, is prettiness in the country-club sense.
and — further proof that DV was very wise —
What do I want with a bloody old handbag that one leaves in taxis and so on? It should all go into pockets. Real pockets, like a man has, for goodness’ sake.
Honestly, if you can read all those quotes and NOT want to read this book … well, go back to the beginning and read them again.
Vreeland has always topped my list of “what person in history would you want to have dinner with?” and this book almost makes up for that never happening. Almost. (Where’s my gosh-darn time machine?)