Socialites

A chronicle of the privileged and the sybaritic drifting beautifully into a state of exquisite obsolescence

I was drifting through The Strand when I bumped into Thierry Coubert's "Cafe Society", graced by this very haughty portrait of Barbara Hutton on the cover. You might want to despise Ms Hutton's evocation of perfect arrogance in this image. The serious jewels, the angular plane of those cheekbones , that tight mouth, the bouffant coiled to look like a frozen froth, the careless hand gesture with the cigarette held at a distance from the body. The dog,…the fur shrug…the floral dress. Look at how it creates a visual melange of absolute self-indulgence. It is like the best Vogue Italia cover that never was.

A legendary tastemaker in the legendary photograph

TI got a tip today that a certain atelier in Paris has the above portrait of the Vicomtesse de Noailles,

Lydia Hearst in Self Service. Because she can! PH:Terry Richardson

The Memoirs Of The Baron de Rede is old school shade in its highest form

On those dreary nights when I'm being yelled at for being such an unrepentant hissmonger, I brew a cup of tea and settle down with a chapter from Baron de Rede's tasteful memoirs. An aristocratic aesthete who had the good luck of being "taken care of" by South American scion Arturo Lopez-Wilshaw , the good baron was known for his incredible luncheons and dinners at his impeccably restored residence, Hotel Lambert. But the hiss he releases in the memoirs is comic genius at its driest. Tales about the likes of Barbara Hutton, The Duke and Duchess of Windsor and Nancy Mitford proves they don't make them like they used to. There is no shade like old school shade, no?