When I came up with the idea for the Audrey exhibit, I envisioned it as a series of separate mini black-box theaters, each featuring an original costume from one of Audrey’s movies with the scene where she wore it playing in a continuous loop on a screen behind the mannequin. That’s exactly how we set it up. Visitors could take a self-guided tour, wearing audio headphones, not only viewing the exquisite outfits Audrey wore but also watching the classic Hollywood moments in which they appeared. The videos added welcome sparks of life to the show without upstaging the costumes.
Oh, how I adored Audrey Hepburn. As a little girl, I lived for her enormous smile, that melodic voice, and the way she said “rotha” and “mahvelous” and “cross my heart and kiss my elbow, dahling.” I still use her expressions anytime I can.
After I grew up, I identified with her characters (who didn’t, right?)—Sabrina, the chauffeur’s daughter who never felt good enough until she morphed into a new and improved version of herself. When will that happen to me? When? Holly Golightly, my namesake, a young lady trying to transcend her background and make it in the big city. I live that struggle every day. Jo Stockton, a girl who would have loved to travel to Paris but couldn’t afford it. Someday I want to go abroad too, but I can’t afford it either. Gabrielle Simpson, the assistant to screenwriter Richard Benson, who helps write the screenplay when she was only hired to type. I’m so much more than an assistant too, but no one recognizes that.
I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’ve always wished my life would unfold like an Audrey Hepburn movie, the kind with the happy endings—not like Roman Holiday where the princess chose duty over Gregory Peck. Hello-oh! What woman in her right mind would do that? Nor would I want my own leading man to be as old as any of Audrey’s on-screen lovers. Poor Audrey, having to kiss those liver-spotted geezers—Humphrey Bogart in Sabrina, Fred Astaire in Funny Face, Gary Cooper in Love in the Afternoon? Some things never change, I suppose. The same is true for salaries. It still peeves me that Audrey was paid $7,000 for Roman Holiday and $12,000 for Sabrina, while Gregory Peck earned $100,000 and Humphrey Bogart received $200,000. But I digress. The point is, I would rather be a character in an Audrey Hepburn movie more than anyone else in the world, including (especially!) myself.
Audrey Hepburn wasn’t terribly famous when she was getting ready to make Sabrina. Roman Holiday had not been released. Paramount sent her to Paris to see Hubert de Givenchy and ask him to create her French costumes for the movie. He had never heard of Audrey and presumed his meeting with “Miss Hepburn” was with Katharine.
When Audrey arrived, Givenchy was too busy preparing his new collection to design for her, so Audrey convinced him to let her use pieces he had already completed. She selected three dresses: For the scene where she arrives at the Glen Cove station and is picked up by David Larrabee, who doesn’t recognize her, she chose a gray wool suit with a cinched waist, double-breasted jacket, and calf-length skirt. This was accessorized with a light-gray turban hat, kid gloves, and a matching toy poodle. For the Larrabee ball, she selected a white strapless confection with an ankle-length skirt and detachable train. The bodice and skirt were embroidered with a floral design of black silk thread and shiny jet beads. Finally, for her date with Linus Larrabee, she picked a black cocktail number with a high boatneck, a calf-length ballerina skirt, and small bows on the shoulders.
The first meeting between Audrey and Hubert was the beginning of a lifelong friendship and professional collaboration. Givenchy designed Audrey’s wardrobe for seven of her most memorable movies, including Funny Face and Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Here’s a choice little tidbit that sent tongues wagging—Edith Head took credit for all the costumes in Sabrina, and Givenchy wasn’t even given a screen mention. Later, Sabrina received six Oscar nominations and won but a single award—Edith Head for Best Costume Design. Even after that, she didn’t share the glory. For an industry based on beauty, the fashion world can be one ugly place.
—AUDREY HEPBURN, ICON OF STYLE
(SHOW CATALOG) BY HOLLY ROSS
“Get in here now,” Nigel said, resting his magnifying glasses on top of his shiny head. “Tanya just arrived.”
Yikes! I gently shut the door to the exhibit behind me until I heard it click. “So tell me, what happened after I left yesterday?”
Nigel and Elaina glanced at each other, and then looked around to be sure no one was listening.
“Well,” Nigel said, “it’s a good thing you got out when you did.”
“It sure is,” Elaina added. “Martin started mouthing the answers from the back of the room.”
“And he got caught?” I said breathlessly.
“Not exactly. He got everything wrong,” Elaina said. “What does Martin Goldenblatt know about fashion? Nothing. But Tanya and Sammie took him at his word and they kept losing. Tanya must have thought I was giving him the answers, but I wasn’t.”
“You’re so honorable,” I said.
“That wasn’t always the case,” she said. “I used to lie and cheat like everyone else, but A Course in Miracles showed me a better way.”
“Wow,” I said. “That must be some powerful course.”
As Nigel finished his paperwork on the garment, Elaina removed it from the mannequin. “It is. Give me a hand with this, would you?”
Gently, we lifted the wedding dress off the fiberglass form that had been custom-made in Audrey Hepburn’s exact size. We laid the garment out flat on special tissue paper, wrapped it, and
