The House of Givenchy
le grand goût français
“Like in great painting and architecture, in couture, to make clothes you must eliminate, eliminate, eliminate to obtain the true sense of a line. You see, the more you add, the more you load on, the more it's mad. You must try to have just the silhouette, which is an intelligence in clothes” — Hubert de Givenchy
A French-Venetian aristocrat and the youngest son of a marquis, Hubert James Marcel Taffin de Givenchy (1927-2018) was undoubtedly dealt a lucky hand in life. Standing 6ft 6in tall, and with an air of regality and grace, the designer was a giant of Parisian haute couture in every sense. Known affectionately amongst the fashion cognoscenti as Le Grand Hubert — he towered over his peers both physically and metaphorically, with many considering his designs to be ahead of the pack in terms of their extreme elegance and sophistication. A master of le grand goût français, Givenchy is remembered as much today for his extraordinary couture creations, as for his relationship or, as Maryvonne Pinault, wife of tycoon François, puts it — sa complicité unique — with close friend and constant muse Audrey Hepburn (1929-1993). A designer who believed “the classical never meant boring”, his clothes represented a golden age of elegance, with his understated sense of style defining the way in which a generation of women aspired to look and dress. “Givenchy’s clothes are the only ones in which I feel myself,” Hepburn opined. “He is more than a designer, he is a creator of personality.” Born in 1927 in Beauvais, north of Paris, to an old Protestant family (which, in France, can denote a certain asceticism), Givenchy’s father died when he was two. His maternal grandfather, Jules Badin, was an artist and director of the Gobelins and Beauvais factories, and instilled in his grandson a passion for textiles that would later influence his work in fashion. “Uncle Hubert used to say that if he did well in school, as a present, he was allowed into his grandfather’s studio, which was a kind of magical world,” Olivier de Givenchy remembers. “It had everything from armors from the Middle Ages to fourteenth-century Beauvais tapestries. He went and he touched fabrics — that was his reward. Through that, he began to create his own world, defining what beauty meant to him, and he then refined it over the years.” Family legend has it that after running away from home at the age of ten, in a failed attempt to track down his icon, Spanish couturier Cristóbal Balenciaga (1895-1972), so as to show him his designs, Givenchy persuaded his mother, Béatrice, to abandon her plans for him to become a lawyer, and to allow him instead to enrol at the prestigious École des Beaux-Arts. After graduating he set out to work for those he idolised and admired, and naturally, his first stop was Balenciaga’s salon; but having been rejected by the establishment’s sharp-tongued directrice, Mademoiselle Renée, he turned instead to Jacques Fath, which at the time was arguably the most “fashionable” house in Paris. Givenchy described Fath (1912-1954) as “a strikingly handsome man, quite different from anyone else … His fashion house was a haven of fun and fantasy … the atmosphere completely captivated me. Entering Jacques Fath’s fashion house was like stepping into a universe of danger and sensuality.” Between his time at Fath in 1945 and opening his namesake couture house in 1952, Givenchy worked with Robert Piguet (1898-1953), a fellow protestant, whose clothes were pared back, elegant and chic, and Lucien Lelong (1889-1958), whose previous protégés included Pierre Balmain (1914-1982) and Christian Dior (1905-1957), before spending four years with Elsa Schiaparelli (1890-1973); where he was allowed total creative freedom, meeting clients such as the Duchess of Windsor (1896-1986) who would remain faithful after he left to embark on a solo career, launching a collection of “separates”, he described as “luxury ready-to-wear”, and beginning what would become a four-decade-long journey.
The elegant exterior of Hôtel d’Orrouer, on Rue de Grenelle, built in 1732 in the regence style, it perfectly reflected the tastes of its illustrious occupant © Christie’s images limited, François Halard
In the petit salon of the hotel d’Orrouer, Picasso’s “Faun With a Spear” (1947) is flanked by Antoni Tàpies’s “Sans Titre” (1977) and Picasso’s “Faunes et Tête de Femme” (1946) © Christie’s images limited, François Halard
Heavily influenced by the structured, architectural style of Balenciaga, much like his “master”, Givenchy believed less was more when it came to fashion design, preferring simple, stylish cuts to the overly decorated or ostentatious. He was part of a progressive generation of designers that — at a time when tightly fitted bodices were still widely used in Parisian haute couture — innovated fashion by making practicality and comfort key. His aim was to empower women, believing that “trying to make a woman more beautiful is to try and understand her well, for her to be well dressed and above all, comfortable in her clothes. If a woman moves well, her gestures will be natural and she will be happy”. Arguably, the key to the couturier’s success came in 1953 when, expecting the great Katharine Hepburn (1907-2003) to turn up at his atelier for a fitting, he was instead greeted by the gamine, and then relatively unknown actress Audrey Hepburn. He would go on to design the clothes that defined her character in such iconic films as Sabrina (1954), Funny Face (1957) and Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961). As film critic Alexander Walker (1930-2003) noted in his biography of Hepburn: “Givenchy helped to create her image quite as much as any of her directors.” Indeed despite his initial disappointment, the two would remain lifelong friends, and the “doe-eyed angel”, as he referred to her, came to epitomise the signature “Givenchy Style”, marked by a certain restrained elegance and femininity. “Hubert is like a tree. Tall, straight and handsome,” Hepburn wrote in a poem, to mark the fortieth year of the Givenchy house. “The roots of his friendship, always deep and powerful, the branches solid with his affection, sheltering those he loves.” Then out of the blue in 1968, and much to the shock of his long-term clients, Balenciaga closed his house, with his final words reputed to have been: “Underneath all this luxury and glamour, the truth is, it’s a dog’s life.” It was the Spanish couturier himself who walked longtime client Rachel Lambert “Bunny” Mellon (1910-2014), the American horticulturist, patron and art collector — whose design motto was “nothing should be noticed” (meaning that design, whether a dress or an interior, is about the indivisible whole, not merely the sum of its parts, or even, for that matter, its net worth) — across the street to Givenchy’s studio and said: “Now, Bunny, this is a place where you must be dressed because I cannot dress you anymore.” Mellon’s orders were so extensive, that an entire room was dedicated to the manufacture of her wardrobe, which, as well as cocktail and evening dresses, included lingerie, gardening clothes and even the uniforms worn by her staff. “When Balenciaga introduced Givenchy to Mellon it transformed the young couturier’s life,” enthuses Amjad Rauf, International Head of Masterpiece and Private Sales at Christie’s. “Not only did he gain a loyal client who became a lifelong friend and supporter, he also found in her a source of inspiration, a Leitmotif he relied on in many of his decisions regarding interior design. Her elegant understated style — rien de trop — was imbued with flavours of pure New England interiors but also Scandinavian castles, transformed by Givenchy into the noble simplicité he is known for and which is particularly evident at his county home, the Renaissance architectural jewel, Le Jonchet.” Three decades later in November 1998, Givenchy would also retire from fashion, handing over his label to luxury goods conglomerate LVMH, and focusing on his other great loves: art and design. He told Vogue’s Drusilla Beyfus (b. 1927), “The real haute couture as I knew it was over. What will replace it I do not know? But change is there. It’s obvious new designers will find a style for future change … I hope something exciting happens.”
The first-floor landing of the hôtel d’Orrouer © Christie’s images limited, François Halard
The drawing room at the hôtel d’Orrouer, overlooking the garden © Christie’s images limited, François Halard
An art lover, known for his enlightened mind, erudition and exquisite taste, Givenchy was also an outstanding decorator; as if a life dedicated only to couture would have been insufficient stimuli for his immense intellect and sharp eye. Over seventy years the famed French designer, along with his life partner Philippe Venet (1929-2021), created the most extraordinary collection which embraced all eras and disciplines. Favouring chiefly modern art, they also loved exquisite eighteenth-century furniture of the sort that had fallen out of favour (“Fashion changes, but the eighteenth-century style will endure, as it is of exceptional quality,” the couturier once remarked) and saw no reason for them to be displayed separately; creating rich, layered interiors, in which works of art from different eras and epochs were juxtaposed in happy harmony. Givenchy was perhaps unique in the way in which he was able to balance pomp and splendour with practicality and comfort, and with typical French insouciance, a sculpture by Jacques Lipchitz (1891-1973), or a writing desk made for Louis XIV might be displayed alongside a white sofa covered in dog hair. “He had the ability to make a room not feel decorated,” explains his nephew Olivier. “There was no feeling that everything had been planned. He began with a vision and over time he filled up his vision with the objects he found.” Givenchy had a fertile imagination, insatiable curiosity and a genuine passion for beauty; never growing tired or weary, he referred to himself as the “eternal apprentice”, forever seeking out new inspiration and ideas. Shortly before his retirement, at a 1995 retrospective, he told friends: “I’ve stopped making frocks, but not making discoveries. Life is like a book: one has to know when to turn the page.” Perhaps above all else, what marks out the greatest collectors is curiosity, and an almost visceral compulsion to understand in its entirety what it is they are acquiring; it can be seen in the collections of Gertrude Stein (1874-1946), Peggy Guggenheim (1898-1979) and Yves Saint Laurent (1936-2008) and Pierre Bergé (1930-2017), none of whom were interested in merely creating a showroom of status symbols, as sadly is the case with many of today’s “collectors”. Often something approaching an obsession, their homes and lives, inextricably intertwined, become a perpetual gesamtkunstwerk — which, in the case of Givenchy, encompassed his years as a couturier, which is entirely reflective of his attitude to decoration. From very early on in Givenchy’s career, as can be seen in his first apartment on rue Fabert, created in collaboration with art world darling and decorator Charles Sevigny (b. 1918), he had the courage to combine ancient regime and art moderne in a way that shocked the Parisian beau monde; Rothko (1903-1970), Miró (1893-1983), Picasso (1881-1973) and the Giacometti brothers, Alberto (1901-1966) and Diego (1902-1985), mingled with seventeenth-century Boulle cabinets and created a balanced mix of precious objects and works of art.
This was a period when Givenchy was at the height of his creative powers, and during which he was rapidly expanding his collection, acquiring certain works, such as Miró’s Le Passage de l’oiseau-migrateur (1968), which hint at the couturier’s spiritual side. The painting, which hung in Givenchy’s bedroom — and was, therefore, the last work of art he saw at night and the first in the morning — conveys the quest for infinity and forms a pictorial echo to the meditative process described by French surrealist writer Michel Leiris (1901-1990) in his work on the great Catalan artist. Subsequently, Givenchy acquired several magnificent residences, including the hôtel d’Orrouer on rue de Grenelle, Paris, the Manoir du Jonchet, Clos Fiorentina in St Jean Cap Ferrat (which Givenchy had always admired), a chalet in Megève (technically he found the chalet in Switzerland and the view in Megève, buying several hectares of land, and rebuilding the chalet with a view of Mont Blanc) and an apartment at the Carlyle Hotel in New York. Although grandiose, these interiors were always welcoming, comfortable and imbued with a gentle tranquillity. “Every inch the innovative fashion designer, Givenchy had boundless energy and vision which enabled him to constantly evolve for his maison de couture,” explains Rauf. “Never without a project and always on the move, he transformed his interiors with new ideas and works of art, treasures but also charming objects found at auction or his favourite antique dealers. Louis XIV masterpieces by André-Charles Boulle and an encyclopaedic range of exquisite eighteenth-century chairs were combined with ormolu ‘objets d art’, silver bibelots and bronze sculptures. His move from rue Fabert to rue des Saint-Peres and then to rue de Grenelle were perhaps his most ambitious steps but equal attention was given to creating his other homes. Together with Christie’s, he curated the auction of a number of his great masterpieces in 1993, and in 2012 and 2014 the private sale exhibitions Girardon and Empire, each time his full attention, direction and support ensuring these were resounding successes.” The first iteration of the couturier’s famous Salon Vert was not at the hôtel d’Orrouer, but at his second home, the eighteenth-century hôtel de Cavoye on rue des Saints-Pères, which was inspired both by his friend and mentor Balenciaga and French decorator Georges Geffroy (1903-1971), who had used the idea for the apartment of Loel (1906-1988) and Gloria Guinness (1912-1980). Givenchy met Geffroy in the early nineteen-fifties and the two became close friends, the couturier later describing him as a “purist” and “An eighteenth-century gentleman, a figure from another era, one of a breed of decorators that is extinct today,” and the elegant rooms he created for his clients would leave a lasting impression. Geffroy worked for many of those whose taste Givenchy greatly admired, including the Guinnesses, Daisy Fellowes (1890-1962), Dale de Bonchamps, Nicole de Montesquiou, André and Gisèle Rueff, the duc and duchesse d’Harcourt, the marquis and marquise de Pomereu and last but not least Chilean millionaire Arturo López-Willshaw (1900-1962), whose breathtaking interiors must have made a dazzling impression on a young Givenchy.
The pared back sitting room at the Château du Jonchet © Christie’s images limited, François Halard
The couturier had an exceptionally refined sensibility, not only in the furniture and objects d’art he acquired, but also in his many homes, as his nephew puts it: “His message was: ‘Extend yourself if you have to, but buy the best. It will be worth it in the long run.’” The imposing, neoclassical architecture of the hôtel d’Orrouer (also known as the hôtel de Bauffremont), at 87 rue de Grenelle, Paris, was no exception; built in 1732 in the regence style, with its immaculate front door, lacquered dark green, it perfectly reflected the tastes of its illustrious occupant — in the sense of his favouring something of a pared-back, refined grandeur, rigorous and restrained. One of the most spectacular private homes in Paris, Givenchy had long had his eye on the building, and when in 1986 his close friend and fellow collector Susan Gutfreund (who according to a somewhat uncharitable article in Vanity Fair in 1991, spent money like it was flowing from a faucet), offered to sell him the second floor, he snapped at the opportunity, meticulously restoring its interiors over a period of seven years, before acquiring the ground floor when it later became available. Upon entering the building one first encountered the petit salon, one of two magnificent rooms described by art historian and advisor Ted Dell (1939-2020) as “one of the greatest decorative ensembles produced in Paris in the twentieth century”. Understated and simple, it is in itself a master class in Givenchy’s approach to interiors, with its off-white boiseries, no gilding, and curtains in cream silk taffeta, all of which acted as an elegant backdrop to a dazzling collection of Post-War works on paper by Picasso, Kurt Schwitters (1887-1948) and Miró, as well as a stunning set of six rare Louis XV chairs by Jean-Baptiste-Claude Sené I (1748-1803) — their unique upholstery in suede and leather with applied acanthus-leaf motif, inspired by the mobilier Crozat, and commissioned by the Couturier from his very own glove-makers — a Régence console that had once belonged to couturier Coco Chanel (1883-1971), and almost as if to play the work down, tucked away, to the right of the fireplace, Giacometti’s masterpiece La Femme qui Marche (“Woman Walking”) her sinuous profile inspired by Cycladic sculpture.
Such studied understatement and subtlety acted as something of a palate cleanser, before one entered the legendary Salon Vert, with its elaborate white and gold decoration by Nicolas Pineau (1684–1754); this was very much a centre of operations, with direct access to the immense garden for their much-loved labradors, doors open in the summer, a fire in the winter, and Givenchy on the sofa with a telephone beside it. Far more formal in character, yet with comfort, as always, a key consideration, carved fauteuil by Georges Jacob (1739-1814) were upholstered in Givenchy’s favourite green silk velvet — “Toujours le vert” — which is something of a leitmotif throughout the collection. Such a remarkable atmosphere can in part be attributed to the couturier’s instinctive understanding of how to use furniture and objets d’art within an interior, and specifically, how to place them, to mettre en valeur a work of art, in the sense of showing it to its very best advantage. This was with the purpose of using such pieces in a way that they didn’t shout and scream wealth and status, but instead, gave an overall impression of quality and refinement; there was a sense of discipline and restraint, which had the effect that visitors were able to appreciate such artistry without feeling humbled. Indeed Pineau’s elaborate decor was deliberately softened by white linen loose covers for the sofas from Decour, and with a break from tradition, a formal dining room was eschewed in favour of placing a Leleu model dining table in a bow window overlooking the garden; in the spring and summer months Givenchy even went so far as to replace the Aubusson carpets with lirette in raffia from the Tapis de Cogolin, and to slip-cover eighteenth-century giltwood chairs so as to soften the atmosphere, ensuring guests felt relaxed and at ease. “When I asked Givenchy ‘why green’, he replied ‘is there another colour?’ His fondness for the colour green stayed with him throughout his life,” explains Rauf. “The Salon Vert at hôtel d’Orrouer became his most iconic interior, where his Boulle masterpieces formed a powerful ensemble, off-set against dark green silk velvet-lined walls and combined with famille noir, black-glazed Chinese porcelain vases. When designing this dramatic room he will have thought of his friend, Geffroy, whose signature style he admired and emulated, but also Coco Chanel, who mastered subtle and precious juxtapositions like nobody else.”
Yet despite the effort Givenchy put into the decoration of the hôtel d’Orrouer, it was his beloved Manoir du Jonchet, acquired in 1975, in the woods of the Touraine countryside, surrounded by a moat and looking onto gardens and the Aigre River, that was the project closest to his heart. Givenchy would never grow tired of what he called the noble simplicité of this exceptional building. His sense of scale was masterly, creating two enormous ateliers, with strong, simple furniture, Louis XIII and early Louis XIV (but again, with loose linen slipcovers, so as to soften their inherent formality), feather-filled white sofas — which were incredibly comfortable and light flooding in through floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides. “I like to describe [Givenchy’s taste] as a reaction like a camera lens,” explains Charles Cator, Deputy Chairman of Christie’s International, who became a long-time friend and colleague of the couturier. “His ability to zoom in on that one detail, and place it in a larger space. It was a knack he had.” In creating such spaces Givenchy was driven not only by harmony and an inherent sense of balance that came from his work in fashion, but also by creating places in which he and Venet, along with their extensive network of friends and family, could spend time together and relax; his intent was quite different to fellow couturier and collector Saint Laurent for example, who rarely invited guests back to his nineteenth-century Château Garbriel, in Benerville-sur-Mer, and had his “bachelor studio” on Avenue de Breteuil designed by Jacques Grange (b. 1944) so as to serve purely as a private escape, where even Bergé wasn’t welcome.
The dining room at Château du Jonchet, just outside Versailles © Christie’s images limited, François Halard
In the almost austere, monastic setting of the Manoir du Jonchet, with its palette of noble materials, the furniture created by Giacometti, — which included s series of bronze tables stools, photophores, chenets, as well as pool-house door fittings and most poignantly, models of his dogs for their graves — took on another dimension. Givenchy’s working relationship with Giacommeti lasted for many years and he even went so far as to commission Giacometti to make a door knocker in patinated bronze for the hôtel d’Orrouer, so that it would be the first work of art his visitors encountered; modelled with expressive roughness, but tied with a stylised bow at the top, the knocker is, in essence, a beguiling visual joke, reflecting their shared love of the absurd. Paradoxically, despite the scale and ambition of Givenchy’s homes, there was a certain modesty to his aesthetic, a beguiling mix of strength, simplicity and grandeur — and much like his work in fashion, his interiors defined what beauty meant to him. In his essay for the 1993 sale catalogue the eminent furniture scholar Theodore Dell (1939-2020) wrote: “As with the creation of beautiful clothes, architecture and decoration have to do with the enhancement of the human figure, in that they involve the creation of beautiful settings against which that figure is seen. Such settings affect our spirits and affect how others regard us. And as with fashion, decoration involves fantasy, but with the rules of discipline and propriety more tightly reined. True understanding can only be mastered after years of observation. Hubert de Givenchy has mastered these rules and coupled them with his own great creativity.”
To each and every one of these projects, Givenchy brought a unique aesthetic vision, and in particular, an innate sense of scale and proportion, something shared by all the great decorators. In every interior, he considered carefully how to use pieces to their best advantage, how to balance the grand with the more mundane, the simple and everyday; this is what gave his interiors such timeless modernity, and why they remain a source of inspiration for decorators and collectors up until this day. Madame Figaro magazine described Givenchy’s clothes as being made with an almost “surgical precision … not too much, not too little”, and this attention to detail can be seen both in his choices as a collector and in his work as a decorator. To present-day eyes, his interiors might not appear radical, but we live in an age where everything from restaurants to hotels, boutiques and even delicatessens are “curated”, but Givenchy was combining different styles and periods at a time when it was far from the norm. “Givenchy had great admiration and reverence for craftsmanship and skill, both old and new, and he enjoyed time spent with artists and artisans. At his maison de couture he was obviously surrounded by talented dressmakers, embroiderers, lace-makers and leather workers, but for his interior design projects he was in constant touch with tapissiers, primarily at Maison Decour, and the ateliers of decorative bronzes, Maison Toulouse and Maison Meilleur,” says Rauf. “Together with these craftsmen, he discussed existing and new types of furniture and objects, always relying on the great techniques of the past (upholstery, curtain making, sewing, stitching as well as casting, chasing, gilding) but often with a fresh design and modern twist. These pieces of furniture, including the low chairs, iconic liseuses lamps and tripod gueridons, gave his interiors a fresh look, where the best of eighteenth and twentieth-century designs lived happily and harmoniously side-by-side.” Uninterested in “bargains” and unafraid to pay the right price, Givenchy was fearless in his pursuit of order, and had a seemingly unquenchable thirst for visual stimulation; eschewing trends and investments he instead preferred to buy what he loved, to put things together and to live with them. With Hubert de Givenchy, great French taste had truly found one of its greatest interpreters, and the quiet subtlety and understatement of his interiors was truly breathtaking. “Today, I find there’s a kind of anything goes,” he said after his retirement, seemingly disenchanted with modern haute couture. “It seems to me that fashion has become something else and I cannot say I’m enthusiastic. There’s fashion and there are fashions.” This seems equally applicable to today’s world of decorating, where, whilst everything is possible, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a good idea. Indeed a level of restraint and refinement a la Givenchy is sorely missing, and perhaps were the industry en masse to channel the great couturier’s mastery of refined elegance, we might start to see a far greater level of design, and in which comfort and elegance are not mutually exclusive.