Betty Bijoux

We all know a Betty Bijoux. A tall, thin, stylish, blonde with an outrageous streak. She is there, somewhere in our lives, hiding or flaunting, slinking or striking, simmering or steaming. Betty, the jewel. Betty, the fashionista. Betty. Betty. Betty.

Yves Staint Laurent had a jewel of a betty. Betty Catroux was his muse, his friend, his confidant for more years than you can spell "perfume." Tom Ford has a betty. Betty Catroux. Deep background icon of Chanel. The real Nicole. Betty of a Certain Age.

If you want to red a dishy book about Paris fashion, get a copy of "The Beautiful Fall," by Alicia Drake. Karl Lagerfeld, Yves Saint Laurent, and a fight to the death, or the death of couture, to be precise. There you will find the Paris Betty. Liaisons. Drugs. Marrakesh. Fabric. Detox. Gossip. Film at eleven.

You can still see Betty today as you walk around Paris. Look in the store windows. There she is. Outrageous clothes. Things you love but could never wear to work. Things, frankly, that would never fit. Shoes to die for, pointy toes and all. And the jewelry. The jewelry. The bijoux. And the scarves. What is it with the scarves? Betty is there. Your Betty is there. You'll look in those store windows and say, "That would look great on....[Betty}, wouldn't it?" And your friend will say, "I believe it would." And you'll walk on, past the girls in jeans and the older women in storm coats and wonder where the fashionable ladies are these days. For they are surely not on the streets of Paris anymore.

Of course, for the immortal story of Parisiene style, there is "The Essence of Style: How the French Invented HIgh Fashion, Fine Food, Chic Cafes, Style, Sophistication, and Glamour," by Joan DeJean. Think Louis XIV. Think the Sun King. Think diamonds for buttons. Not buttons covered with diamonds, but diamonds that were big enough to become buttons. Now THAT was style.

And don't despair about the Betty in your life. We all have one. Some of us have more than one, but that's just too sad to think about too much. Just think about this the next time she goes off on you about some silly thing. Think about Betty Catroux. All those years with all that style. And look what happened to her.



Oscar Wilde was right. It's better to have the picture in the closet. And here's the lesson for today: ugly just isn't pretty, no matter how you dress it up.