The Yellow Room Conspiracy
“Heavens, it must be seven years! A mass of things happened, but not a lot that matters any more—in fact some of it seems just as dreamy and unreal as the war. I spent the first half of it being a fashion model. Even now, if you asked people about that time and what it was like, anyone who was at all interested in clothes would mention the New Look, of course, but what they’d actually think about is me. I was the face. I was on the cover of Vogue or Harpers every other month, looking untouchably... cool and classy in front of the Eiffel Tower or Mount Etna or somewhere. It meant I made more money than I’d ever dreamed of, all for myself. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I spent it having fun in obvious ways. In fact I went pretty wild for a bit, or at least I tried to. I mean I kept looking for wildness and not getting there, somehow. I’m not going to go into details. You can imagine them if you want to, but just remember this wasn’t now. It was the late “forties, a cold, hard time with the war supposed to be over but all the boring things we’d put up with because of the war still going on—rationing and shortages and not being allowed to take any money when you went abroad, and so on.MoreLess
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