Word: laurentic
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...peak of his profession, a confident and gracious man. He is pale, despite the Sahara sun, but seemingly healthy. His life with Pierre Berge, his business partner and intimate of 15 years, has probably been as harmonious as most marriages. Yet beneath the patina of assurance, Yves Saint Laurent is a tortured soul, a self-avowed neurotic who is still recovering from an unhappy childhood and the trauma of his brief service in the French army (he spent two months in a solitary psychiatric cell). "Yves," says Berge, "was born with a nervous breakdown." Says Yves himself: "I am ridden...
Though he says his designs come out of a "crucible of pain," Saint Laurent has an extraordinarily fertile and precise imagination. Working in Marrakech, seldom spending more than 15 minutes on a single drawing, he designed his latest collection so perfectly that not a bead or button had to be changed when he arrived at his Paris headquarters to inspect the finished array of 106 styles...
...egotistical collection," says Saint Laurent. "I thought like a painter or a writer. I put in it all I had in me, all my favorite painters-Vermeer, Delacroix, Ingres, La Tour, Rembrandt. It's the collection of a painter. Then there is the theatrical side-I love the opera and the music hall, and there was some of that. Then I put in my favorite heroines, like Madame Bovary and Catherine of Russia...
...does the man who put well over a million women into pants explain his abrupt flight into a world of rustling taffeta? Over the past ten years, says Saint Laurent, he had refined his line to the limit and finally felt bored with its simplicity. "I had arrived at a certain purity. This had forced me to repress my fantasy, and I needed a big burst." Besides, Yves considers himself the last truly creative designer around. "A collection is always a reaction to something," he observes. "I was fed up with opening magazines and seeing clothes that I thought were...
...Paris, where Saint Laurent and Berge occupy a splendiferous two-story garden apartment on the Left Bank, the elegantly tailored Yves drives himself to work each morning in a dark blue Volkswagen Beetle convertible. (Berge, as the business manager, goes to the office in a chauffeured Rolls.) Settled in at Y.S.L. headquarters, a huge, four-story town-house on Avenue Marceau that must rank as one of the world's most elegant office buildings, Yves hunkers over a small (3 ft. by 4 ft.) folding worktable that is as meticulously arranged...