powerfulanne 's review for:

D.V. by Diana Vreeland

Sometimes you're stuck inside during a pandemic, relegated to an existence that revolves around changing out of your night pajamas into your day pajamas and then back to your night pajamas, and you just really want to escape your reality by reading gossipy hyperbole about the Duke of Windsor, Josephine Baker, and Balenciaga (DV describes feeling like she was about to "blow up and die" from excitement when she saw his clothes; same, DV!!).

This book was a goddamned trip, and I enjoyed nearly every minute of it (the only minute I didn't love was the strange chapter that showcased some weird, blithe, old-school racism mixed with an earnest belief that white western-centric civilization is on the decline in favor of a better, more diverse future; just because you believe the latter, Diana, does not justify your wearing of Cartier "blackamoor" pins. No! Thanks!). The prose is a bit breathless and grandiloquent, but you quickly get used to it, and it eventually becomes part of the charmingly mad scenery. I recommend accompanying these clearly hyperbolic reminiscences with a perusal of DV's Wikipedia page or Amy Fine Collins' profile for Vanity Fair to get a better understanding of the extraordinarily hard-working and troubled iconoclast lurking beneath the kooky society dame exterior presented in this memoir.