Iris Apfel: Accidental Icon

By Iris Apfel

From the fashion icon, "a joyous, colorful collection of photographs; drawings; reflections; and personal mottos on marriage, business, fame and style" (Boca Raton Observer).

The late great Iris Apfel was a woman who transcended time and trends—one of the most original and dynamic personalities in the worlds of fashion, textiles, and interior design. Written a few years before her passing at age 102, this is a lavishly illustrated memoir in which she shares her musings, anecdotes, and incomparable wisdom.


As the cofounder with her husband of Old World Weavers, an international textile manufacturing company that specialized in reproducing antique fabrics, she served a prestigious clientele including Greta Garbo, Estee Lauder, Montgomery Clift, and Joan Rivers. She also acted as a restoration consultant and replicated fabric for the White House over nine presidential administrations. Iris's worldwide travels and devotion to flea markets inspired her work and fueled her passion for collecting fashion and accessories. In 2005, she was the first living person who was not a designer to have her clothing and accessories exhibited at the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, a blockbuster show that catapulted her to fame and a career as a model, muse, and collaborator for renowned brands from Citroen to Tag Heuer. In 2015, acclaimed director Albert Maysles released Iris, his Emmy Award-nominated documentary, to a global audience.


This celebratory volume captures her unique joie de vivre and features 180 full-color and black-and-white photos and illustrations—presented in the same improvisational, multifaceted style that made Iris a much-loved legend.


"It's hard to resist this self-proclaimed 'geriatric starlet.' With her owlish glasses, loud prints and necklaces upon necklaces, even in her 90s, Apfel is a fashion icon who combines a memoir with photos of the vibrant contents of her closets." —The New York Times Book Review

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Mar 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9780062405098

Book preview

Introduction

I NEVER EXPECTED

people to know my name or recognize my face.

Photo Credit: Alique

I NEVER EXPECTED

to be called a fashion icon.

Photo Credit: Dmitry Kostyukov

I NEVER EXPECTED

museums to exhibit my clothing and accessories.

Photo Credit: Peabody Essex Museum

I NEVER EXPECTED

Photo Credit: Frederik Leiberath/Courtesy M∙A∙C

to be a cover girl or the face of a cosmetics company in my nineties.

Photo Credit: Art Department: Jeremy Liebman; Jalou Media Group, L’Officiel, 2016

I NEVER EXPECTED

to have a One of a Kind Barbie doll made in my image.

Photo Credit: Courtesy of Mattel

I NEVER EXPECTED

to draw a crowd . . .

Photo Credit: Macy’s Merchandising Group Marketing & Creative Services

Photo Credit: Kevin Mazur/Getty Images for Macy’s

LET ALONE A MOB.

Photo Credit: Kevin Mazur/Getty Images for Macy’s

And I never expected to receive so many flattering awards or honors—by New York City at a ceremony at City Hall and another in Harlem, and still another by the city of St. Louis, where they issued an Iris Apfel Day.

I NEVER EXPECTED

that anyone would want to make a documentary about my life, much less have it be nominated for an Emmy Award.

Photo Credit: Bruce Weber: Courtesy Magnolia Pictures

Photo Credit: Luis Montiero. Styling by Damian Foxe and makeup by Marco Antonio.

I NEVER EXPECTED TO WRITE THIS BOOK.

I never expect

ANYTHING.

I just feel things in my gut and I do them.

If something sounds exciting and interesting,

I do it—and then I worry about it later.

Doing new things takes a lot of energy and strength.

It’s very tiring to make things happen, to learn how to master a skill, to push fears aside.

Most people would rather just go with the flow; it’s much easier. But it’s not very interesting.

And as I always say,

"You have to be INTERESTED to be interesting."

Photo Credit: © Walt Disney Co./Courtesy Everett Collection

Photo Credit: Emma Summerton/Trunk Archive

Photo Credit: Shane Drummond/BFA

BELIEVE IT.

WHEN YOU GET OLDER, as I often paraphrase an old family friend, if you have two of anything, chances are one of them is going to hurt when you get up in the morning. But you have to get up and move beyond the pain. If you want to stay young, you have to think young.

Having a sense of wonder, a sense of humor, and a sense of curiosity—these are my tonic. They keep you young, childlike, open to new people and things, ready for another adventure.

I never want to be an old fuddy-duddy; I hold the self-proclaimed record for being the World’s Oldest Living Teenager and I intend to keep it that way.

Musings

Photo Credit: Donald Robertson

A Fairy-Tale Beginning . . . of Sorts

Photo Credit: Eric Boman

WITH A RING-A-DING-DING-DING from the Metropolitan Museum of Art in early spring 2005, a new chapter in my life began. Harold Koda, then the curator-in-charge at the Costume Institute, was on the line, making me an offer I couldn’t refuse. He wanted to do a small show of my fashion accessories and jewelry. The hitch was that it had to be completed within five months, or a nanosecond in the museum exhibition world, where shows are planned years in advance.

I agreed because I thought all I had to do was place my things in beautiful cases.

When Harold and the curatorial team visited me one morning to plan the show, he told me he had rethought the concept. To show accessories out of context didn’t make sense, said he, for the public would like to see what accessories could do for an outfit. Then he asked whether I would be willing to supply at least five outfits to use as a canvas. To be curatorially correct, he wanted to choose the outfits. My job would be to accessorize the mannequins as I would have accessorized myself sixty years ago or as I might wear them today with a new selection or a combination of the two.

What do you have to show me? he asked.

What do you want to see?

Let me look, let me look.

Little did they know they had just opened Pandora’s box. One closet led to another, and in the ensuing hours, we had peeked, pried, and pulled open every closet, every armoire, every drawer, every box, and every storage bin I owned. At one point, I even saw someone looking under the bed. Clothing seemed to gush from every direction. Things got so chaotic we finally had to buy ten pipe racks, push all the furniture aside in the apartment, and hang up all the possible candidates. By the end of the day, the surface had barely been scratched.

We’ll be back tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow! said Harold.

For several consecutive days after the selections were made, a truck arrived to pick up clothes. The final haul: about three hundred pieces plus hundreds of accessories. I’m sure if they’d had to pay for