André Leon Talley (1948–2022)

This is a dishy book about the author's career in the fashion industry from his first job as glorified receptionist at Andy Warhol's Interview magazine, to Paris Bureau Chief for Women's Wear Daily to the offices of Vogue under the legendary Anna Wintour.

Talley leaves practically no character unassassinated. This makes the book a fun read, but I hope he's not waiting for another Christmas card from Anna Wintour

A tribute to the two women who made André Leon Talley, his maternal grandmother, Bennie Francis Davis, and that queen of fashion, Diana Vreeland.

ALT was raised by his maternal grandmother, who worked as a maid at Duke University. He learned from her the value not only of hard work, family and faith, but of luxury, "the beauty of ordinary tasks, done well, and in a good frame of mind", like her "crispy, crispy, clean clean, clean white sheets".

At the age of twelve, ALT was reading Vogue show more magazine and dreaming of a life in fashion, and at twenty-five he was working for Diana Vreeland (HER sheets were Porthault), and later for Vogue itself.

This is also the story of how an African-American boy, growing up poor in the southern United States, became a man of influence in the world of fashion. Curiously, while he mentions in passing the dearth of black faces in that world, he doesn't discuss in any real depth the issue of discrimination. In the same way, he never discusses sexuality, although he is openly gay. For instance, describing an incident at his high school prom when "one of the smartest guys in the class" asked if he'd like to dance, Talley says: " . . . I sat there frozen in fear. Why did he ask that? I wondered. Out of boredom? Politeness? Because he didn't know what else to say? . . . I knew for a fact that Willim was too much of a jock to get out there and cut a rug with me. Even if he'd meant the offer seriously, it would have been the scandal to end all scandals had it actually come to pass. Now, looking back on the event as an adult, I think Willim might just have been trying to express some kind of admiration for me, but at the time, I was too confused to think about it clearly." Well, duh.

It's as though Talley gives these issues a glance and then shies away from them. I'm not sure why. It's not as though he's likely to shock anyone.

By the same token, there's an odd mix of depth and superficiality. Talley's religion is clearly important to him. He stresses throughout the book the importance his faith and chuch play in his ife. Yet when he talks about the pastor of his church (Abyssinian Baptist in Harlem, Adam Clayton Powell's church), he puts as much or more stress on Dr. Butts' bespoke suits and spit-shined shoes as he does on his eloquence in the pulpit.

And one expects, for instance, name-dropping. Considering Talley's line of work, it's unavoidable. But while Karl Lagerfeld's friendship is certainly relevant at points, it makes no sense to say, "Three years ago, when I was staying at Karl Lagerfeld's house in Biarritz, I called my mother . . ." There's no connection.

Now, this sounds as though I didn't like the book. But that's not true. It's really fascinating to see the comparison between the two women who made ALT. They never, apparently, met, and died the same year. Yet I think they would have liked each other. They shared many of the same values, though they led very different lives. And they both clearly thought highly of André!

Talley is also an excellent story-teller. Of course, he makes his living as a writer, but writing a fashion column is not the same as writing a book. He draws you into his story, and if there is a flaw here, it's that one is left with the feeling that there is much that he is not saying. show less

My reason for reading this memoir was quite plain and simple: I was being nosy. The basic and fundamental kind of curiosity that fuels gossip and casual conversation; might cause one to miss a stop while eavesdropping; might bring together foes for a moment just for the exchange of petty bits of information; it absorbs and excites when one is the audience, and, of course, enrages when one becomes its subject. For some reason, mostly the commentary on the book and documentary when they came show more out, I thought this book would be more scathing than it turned out to be. I went in expecting a renunciation of the fashion industry from one of its strongest and most knowledgeable bastions, and, of course as these things usually turn out, I was wrong. There is some criticism, some disagreement of the way matters are conducted, even a bit of witty subtle insult I usually like or what the pioneers of queer ballroom culture succinctly called a read.

André Leon Talley spent his entire adult life dedicated to fashion. There are few individuals that could boast of working with and knowing some of the most influential people in American and European fashion and art. From being mentored by Diana Vreeland, to working for Andy Warhol, being friends with Karl Lagerfeld, and being a friend/acquaintance/colleague/subordinate/advisor to Anna Wintour, André was a living library of fashion and art.

His childhood was a lonely one, Black and gay and from a working class background in the American South, he worked and learned and found success in an industry that is notoriously rigid for upholding whiteness, youth, thinness, and opulence. He was raised by his loving grandmother, dealt with issues of abandonment from his mother, and was bullied and sexually abused when he was a child. So rather stark and horrid conditions compared to the heights of the fashion world he eventually rose to where he moved with big time financiers, first ladies, monarchs, fashion juggernauts, celebrities and socialites.

Most times, as he himself professes, André was the only person of colour in these spaces. Although he protests the lack of diversity and inclusion in this book, he fully immersed himself into this world during his lifetime and mourned it when it no longer needed him. From his own account the fashion world is vicious, vain, superficial; where one can be discarded at any moment. He himself had to deal with a lot of sabotage and racism while in it. His way of pushing back against this was through the few instances he called quiet activism. Such as the Vanity Fair spread where Naomi Campbell plays Scarlett O'Hara and the roles of master and servant are reversed by the Black and white models in the photoshoot.

Following his eventual departure from Vogue and the mistreatment he experienced from its head Anna Wintour, I recall harsh judgements that were passed on ALT. That he had been spat out by the same machinery that he had oiled and kept going, happily lapping at the crumbs that were thrown at him while ignoring the other Black and persons of colour that worked in the same industry. There might have been some truth in these criticisms, but after reading this memoir I can't help but disagree on some level. Well not disagree exactly, but empathize with its author on a level. I think it's unreasonable to reduce a life and career to the moments of snobbery, cowardice and selfishness that occured and represent it as the whole. Very few wouldn't be seduced with the material and status benefits such a situation provides.

Which made me uneasy to review this, since implicit in whatever criticism is that it is made from a higher moral ground than the subject being critiqued. And whatever words I come with, long review as this has already turned out to be, will reduce this memoir, which in itself condensed a life. So, a square root of a square root of sorts.

In the end this was a fascinating memoir of a fascinating life. André was gifted, brilliant, charming, and vain; gracious and forgiving to those who were in his circles or, he felt, above him; severe and unforgiving to those that, he felt, weren't. The writing is direct and matter-of-fact when narrating biographical information, and leaps and pulsates when André talks about fashion. His descriptions of a Galliano collection, décor in an apartment, his grandmother's church clothes, and whatever else he found beautiful and caught his eye were magnificent to read. show less

this is an alternately fun and gossipy and kind of sad memoir about Talley's life as a fashion journalist. He talks about his friends, his frenemies, his struggles with weight and loneliness, racism in the fashion industry and other topics. And he talks extensively about clothes and the changes in the magazine industry. If you read Ruth Reichl's recent Gourmet memoir some of it will be familiar as Vogue is also a Conde Nast publication. He spends a lot of time on his wonderful friends, his show more amazing friends, his generous, mercurial, moody and fabulous friends, and yet somehow he comes across as desperately lonely. You kind of just want to give him a big hug. show less