The Master

Super gazar, guipure, shantung, ottoman, cloqué, taffeta, georgette crepe, chenille- velvet, cigalina, lurex, lacquered craknyl, “sculpted lamé”, “lizard satin”…playful names to describe equally playful fabrics and textures. All the same I don’t think that Cristóbal Balenciaga would describe his métier as playful. His extreme devotion to his art was very serious.

CRISTOBAL BALENCIAGA, the couturier who did it all. According to his friend Coco Chanel he was the only one of his cadre that was able to devise, cut, assemble and sew a garment. Born in Guetaria, in the Basque Country, in 1895, he first learned from his mother, and then from the selective clientele that gave him a chance to further develop his skills. After years of working hard for others, he opened his first atelier in San Sebastián. After a few other successful entrepreneurial initiatives he relocated to Paris, a move coinciding with the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War. The 50s and 60s were the years of exuberant experimentation that brought him international acclaim. He invented the tunique suit, the sack shape and the baby doll line. His evolving esthetic pushed the boundaries of minimalism until, according to Metropolitan Museum curator Harold Koda, “there was no more to cut”. He experimented with fabrics and style as would a sculptor, to the point that he lost sight of his garments’ intentions  -his museum in Guetaria displays a fantastic cloak with no slits for the arms- but he was an artist after all, wasn’t he?

One can find endless praises of The Master from colleagues, friends and employees. His name is mentioned in countless fashion sources and student dissertations.  Strangely enough, his personal life, and personality for that matter, are a near-complete mystery.  Balenciaga’s only press interview was given to The Times, in August of 1971, to the fashion editor Prudence Glynn, and only after he had closed his atelier (he died one year later). For me that mystery is the most intriguing part of his story. Was he too engrossed in his job to bother with a little PR? Maybe too much of a perfectionist, easily irritated by the fallacies of his fellow human beings?  Was his distance a product of snobbery, of feeling part of an unreachable elite? How did he live, did his aristocratic clientele make him rich? Who was the “close person”, who’s death made him almost close down his business in 1948? He has been described as very religious. Was he homosexual? Did he find in Paris the freedom that eluded him in provincial Spain? Why did he break his business partnership with the Lizaso sisters with whom he had opened up his first atelier in San Sebastián? Did his zeal to keep away the press at the presentation of his collections seem eccentric at the time? What role did Wladio d’Attainville, his long time collaborator, play in his life? What did he like to do when he wasn’t working? Was he soaking in the Mediterranean sun as any old tourist might when death surprised him in Jávea, Alicante?

I probably need to start thinking of a part II for this post, there are just too many questions for such a formidable personality.

Why is his museum so hard to find, and why did they choose the smallest sign available to christen it. Why Guetaria, has not become a don’t-miss destination for pilgrims seeking to commune with The Master and another historic figure, the great explorer Juan Sebastián Elcano, is material for another post entitled “Spaniards and their hopeless marketing mentality”. Just imagine the boom in hotel occupancy if both of those personalities had been French or British…no wonder we’re economically doomed!