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2001-07-12
Diana Vreeland
B. 1903 (?) Paris, France / D. 8.22.1989 New York City
Heart Attack
For all who wince when approaching footsteps sound out like rifle shots�women�s heels on sidewalks, on the floors of office corridors�for all to whom such footsteps have become familiar, heralding a bitter face and fussy, harshly-phrased incompetence�for myself, remembering a certain semi-literate assistant dean and her assistant, too�for others whose ears are being more presently afflicted�I offer words of wisdom and power. D.V., say on:
And footsteps! I can�t stand the vulgarity of a woman who makes a noise when she walks. It�s all right for soldiers, but when I was growing up the quintessence of breeding in a lady was a quiet footstep. Well, it is to me still. Do you know that I let a brilliant worker go at Vogue because of the way she walked�the clank of those heels! She went to live in Paris after I talked to her. I said, �I can�t stand your footsteps. I can�t!� But, of course, what it was with her was anger; it is a form of anger if you can�t control the foot. I promise you, the heavy tread is a form of anger. You ought to pull up your instep, tense the leg, perhaps wear a little lower heel. Or else just take the trouble to walk a little more carefully. And if you can�t do that, you have to go to Paris! As Napoleon said, �Go to Paris and become a woman.�