Precious Cargo

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When I worked for Emanuel Ungaro one of my favorite tasks was to help the Directrice of the haute couture when she came twice a year to show the collection.  She would arrive straight from the airport and drop off the trunks and I would take them up to the office and unpack.  It was in the late ’80’s through the early ’90’s and fashion didn’t have the immediacy of today.  The haute couture shows were covered in WWD and the NY Times, usually accompanied by sketches.  We would receive photos which I would put together in a look book, following the run of show  that was on the seats of the show attendees.  The only celebrities at the shows were people who were actual clients or longtime friends of the house like Anouk Aimee.

In the quiet of the weekend evening I would unpack and hang each garment, finally seeing and feeling the fabrics and designs I had been studying for months.  I turned each piece inside out to examine the tiny stitches of the petits mains.  I lined everything up, passage by passage, the collection slowly reassembled before my eyes.  The fabrics were heavy silks and wools, jacquards, printed with multiple screens, colored like bon bons or in permutations of grey.  There was one collection with every jewel toned plaid imaginable, one that followed the silk road where everything was on an ivory ground with hats that might have been worn by Genghis Khan.  Known for his sense of color and pattern, I recall a collection that was predominately black which emphasized Mr. Ungaro’s signature draping.  After lining up the samples and taking care of muslins or pieces ready for a first fitting, I locked up and went home, looking forward to the week ahead.

SPM