Oh how I wish I had this outfit, sadly I do not. Many, many years ago while living in Maryland, our basement had a massive flood, which destroyed some of my mothers most exquisite gowns, this one included. Needless to say she was heartbroken, so I really love when I stumble across photos of her in one of those lost gems. One of the things I LOVE about this outfit are the opera gloves. (notice, the buttons opened at the wrist and the fingers tucked perfectly back)
The gloves pictured on the right are obviously not the ones she was wearing, but they are one of the few pairs I have. I am not wearing them because they are so fragile. I adore the detail at the wrist, they are tiny pastel colored leather flowers, hand sewn on. Relics of another time.
I remember reading a profile of the fabulous Andre Leon Talley in Vanity Fair magazine a few years ago, I never forgot what he had to say about gloves:
“It’s about gloves, O.K., darling?” he says, without a trace of irony. “It’s about gloves. Listen.”
Gloves, gloves, gloves. He cites Michelle Obama with her seagrass-green gloves at the first inaugural, and Beyoncé with the sequined gloves zipped to the shoulder of her Givenchy dress at last year’s Met gala; Jackie O and her elbow-length opera gloves; churchgoing black women, like Talley’s grandmother, who emulated Jackie’s style and kept a drawer just for their glazed kidskin gloves; and of course his own gloves, the black crocodile ones and Prada alligators. “Just last night, I went to dinner with my friend Gloria von Thurn und Taxis, and she had her gloves on, because her husband taught her to wear them,” declared Talley. “She has drawers and drawers of gloves, some in leather, some in cloth.”