
Because it’s Christmas. You’re going to forget, for once all the dreary practicalities of life. You’ll have no connection with the girl in the bus queue, wet winter mornings, tiresome clients, ceaseless telephone battles, budgets & diets, mortages and shopping. You’re going to experience the womanly spelndour of long, sumptuous gowns, shaped from luxurious stuffs – rich brocades, painstaking tapestries, beautiful braids; the whole piled into pattern on pattern so that the woman we know we could become emerges from grubby little Cinderella with a nonchalant elegance – relaxed, seemingly pampered and so obviously desreving a custom-made Prince Charming.
And because it’s Vanity Fair, it’s quite a long and endearingly meandering editorial on a loose theme which I will divide into a few different parts. Today, the glorious work of Bill Gibb for Baccarat, photographed so exquisitely I want to live in these images.
Photographed by Frank Horvat.
Scanned from Vanity Fair, December 1970.


























