I ‘m a sucker for articles about interesting, creative, pleasing, usually beautiful, sometimes dangerous women who become somebodies in the highest circles of culture, society, and/or politics. Jennie Churchill, Winston Churchill’s mother is one. Eleanor of Aquitaine is another. So is Pamela Digby Churchill Hayward Harriman, who ended up becoming the doyenne of the Democartic Party. Vanity Fair recently hooked me with their profile of the dashing Countess Jacqueline de Ribes, whose life intersected with Yves Saint Laurent and all that was intellectural or artistic in France in the last half of the 20th century. Is it the gowns, the jewels, the powerful circles in which they move, the fatal beauty or something like beauty and all it can accomplish, that attracts me? Is it that they play outside the rules nearly always? There’s a certain gumption, a certain rashness, a certain boldness, a certain luck that propels them forward and upward with great, great style. I can’t resist that style and must read about it like a dreamy teen.
What can’t you resist?