Yves Saint Laurent Page #2

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Mr Dior's instructions were...

I am not Mr Dior!

Sorry to insist, but...

So don't. I can't!

Very well, sir.

Good Conduct.

Canada.

Who's next to Edmonde Charles-Roux?

Carmel Snow, Harper's Bazaar.

On her right, Hlne Lazareff, Elle.

Nice hat.

Zouzou.

She's overdoing it, but it's pretty.

Thank you very much.

Victoire, turn around.

It's fine. Thank you, Victoire.

You don't like it?

It's nice. Very classical.

It's Dior.

Valentine.

So wonderfully simple and supple.

Almost neglectful.

And in Dior's temple of rigidity.

What's the dory served with?

Homemade ratatouille.

Can I have the dory

with pommes dauphines?

No.

I'll have

the Chateaubriand with the ratatouille.

No.

- A salad.

- I'll let you choose.

People who don't know what they want.

I can understand them.

Besides work, I can't do anything.

I'm lost.

Thank you, Yves.

Really?

If only you knew. A true cripple.

I can barely write out a cheque.

Right, Yvonne?

- You have other talents, sir.

- How kind of you.

So you're a spoiled child.

Exactly.

Aren't you?

My mother is a teacher.

Stricter with me than others,

so I did nothing.

He ran away.

Very young.

Where was this?

La Rochelle.

I'm from Oran.

When you took your bow,

you looked like a seminarian.

Yes, I went to Catholic school.

When are you heading south?

Next week.

And you, Yves?

I have to go see my family in Algeria.

Algeria...

This war...

Enough of it. It's France's dirty laundry.

You're hurting me.

So I apologise.

I shouldn't have brought it up.

It's nothing.

Actually, I'd rather not go this summer.

I feel like a change.

Join us.

Pretty countryside,

excellent cook, crickets.

And you, too, I imagine.

No, thank you. I don't drink.

I've finished your portrait, Yves.

Thank you.

How many for dinner tonight?

Eight.

Cancel.

I thought I belonged to

the cult of fidelity,

but with you...

Remember?

It all happened so fast.

It's gorgeous.

We had the living room redone.

- Hello, Zizi.

- Hello, Victoire.

- Are you well?

- Excellent, thanks.

- My husband, Roger.

- A great admirer.

Come see the study.

- Nice?

- Very.

Pierre's is over there.

And the bedrooms?

There's only one.

So you really do live together?

Why didn't you tell me?

You're married to Paris Match, aren't you?

Come. I'll show you the terrace.

Pierre, Pierre.

You know my friend, Victoire?

Your face from the magazines.

The woman I wanted to marry.

Enough with that.

I prefer to see Karl.

She's jealous?

And it amuses you.

You know, I'm not that nice.

But maybe you should leave, Mother.

And go where?

It's our home. It's our country.

What does Dad say?

What's there to say? He agrees with me.

I can't imagine...

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