Chapter Text
Author’s Note
Over the last three years, I have conducted individual interviews with friends, family, colleagues, and industry elites who have played a part in the life of American designer Christen Press.
The following is an oral history, compiled and edited from interviews, conversations, and transcripts.
While I have aimed for a comprehensive approach, I must acknowledge that this proved an impossible task. Some individuals were difficult to track down, some were more forthcoming than others, some refused to be interviewed and some have sadly passed on.
It should be noted that accounts of the same event can and do differ and the majority of opinions in this book aren’t mine, but of those who lived through the moments remembered in this publication.
Introduction
I was a young girl when I first heard the name Christen Press. I was twenty-four years old when I first met her.
I always sat on the carpet in the sunroom while my mother read through all of her favourite magazines. Back then I hated reading, so I’d just page through the old books she never threw away. Her collection stretched as far back as the seventies, which was a fascinating time in American fashion history.
As I was paging through one of my mother’s old Vogues and she was reading the latest Vanity Fair, she let out a little yelp and clasped her hand over the pink-tinted string of pearls she always wore.
I asked what was so exciting and she turned the book around and showed me. It was a greyscale portrait of a middle-aged woman wearing a black turtleneck sweater and beret over the fullest head of curly hair I had ever seen. She was beautiful, bright eyes and sharp features, but she was a stranger to me. I asked my mom who it was and it seemed as if though I had uttered something totally sacrilegious.
“Honey, this is Christen Press”, she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I had the absolute gall to not know Christen Press, and even though I was only seven years old, it didn’t stop my mother from giving me a dirty look.
“She was one of the biggest fashion designers back in the day and she’s still one of the biggest names in fashion”, she said. “She changed the way women in America dressed. She hardly ever does interviews, so this is a very special edition of Vanity”.
I have to admit, I wasn’t that impressed. But keep in mind, I was seven years old, and I didn’t know a thing about fashion. My mother, on the other hand, loved clothes and shoes and jewels and it was clear to me that she idolised this woman. And so naturally, because I was obsessed with my mom, I too became interested in learning more about Christen Press.
I read that Vanity Fair article probably three or four times, but it was only with age that I realized just how special that interview was. She kept out of the public eye for most of her life. Everything that had ever been written about her never came from her, so no one knew the real story.
That interview in the Vanity Fair was my introduction to the world and life of one of the most influential women this country had ever seen. My interest was piqued and today I can stand up and proudly say that I, Mallory Pugh, am the world’s foremost authority on Christen Press. From her early beginnings and her apprenticeship with Sarina Wiegman, to dressing some of Hollywood's most iconic stars and her heavily rumoured love affair with rival-turned-partner, Tobin Heath and every high and low in-between.
I have studied her fashion, I have retraced her steps and when I turned twenty-four I decided that I wanted to write a book about her. I spent hours looking up information, made over a hundred calls until I received a letter in the mail one day. In a cream-colored envelope with the address seemingly typed on with a typewriter. Christen Press had sent it and in it she wrote that she appreciated my endeavour in searching for her. She wrote that she was happy to have made such an impact on my life. And then, in the postscript she so nonchalantly invited me to her house in the village of Lisse out in Holland.
I wrote back, giving my thanks and relaying my excitement. Two weeks later another letter came from Lisse and this time there was also a plane ticket attached. I was finally going to meet the woman whose fashion and influence inspired me to become a fashion journalist and blogger.
Three days passed, and I found myself on a plane to Holland. And then a few hours and a pleasant cab ride later, I stood in front of the black door of a townhouse on a busy street. I rang the doorbell and was kept waiting a beat. But when it opened and Christen stood right there, I nearly fell faint. She was someone I had admired for so long and she was stood right in front of me, smiling at me. She was sixty-six years old, but there were hardly any lines on her face. She still had the high cheekbones, designer brows, full lips and electric green eyes from her youth.
“Good afternoon, I’m Christen Press”, she said and held out her hand.
“Hi hello”, I said nervously and shook her hand with my clammy one. “It is such an honour to meet you”.
“And it’s a pleasure to meet you”, she said in a tone of voice I can only describe as melodic. She was so soft spoken, the infliction barely noticeable but there. “You’re the girl who wants to write my memoir”, she noted candidly.
I shook my head. “Yes, I’ve been completely obsessed with you since I was a little girl”. I noticed that I was still holding onto her hand and I let it go abruptly. “You’ve influenced the way women dress all over the world and I want everyone to know your life story. It deserves to be told”.
She studied me carefully. And I mean really observed me. I was dressed in black jeans and a powder blue ribbed sweater and at that moment I really wished I was in something more glamourous. “If you want to write a book for the world, then I am afraid I can't help you”. She stepped to the side and gestured for me to enter her home. “But if you want to write a book for me, then come on in”.
And so began my week with Christen Press. I learned so much about her – so much more than I ever thought I would. Through it all I also learned about love, loss and the price of perfection. I hope this retelling does her story justice.