Mademoiselle Read online

  Chanel was reluctant. She was busy working, on her own collections and on Diaghilev’s The Blue Train. Besides, she was familiar with Bendor’s much-publicized infidelities and his string of mistresses, and felt no need to join the list. Still, to please Vera, she agreed. Perhaps to make a great show of her uninterest, though, Chanel brought a date along to her first meeting with the Duke of Westminster—Grand Duke Dmitri. Dmitri had wanted to see Bendor’s famous yacht, and so Chanel arranged to have him invited, too.

  That night, Bendor found himself captivated by Chanel. He had rarely met a woman of such fierce independence and charisma. Plus, she was what he called a “real person”—meaning a non-noble—a category he found most fascinating. After dinner, the party went ashore to go dancing at a nightclub in Monte Carlo. By evening’s end, the duke was completely smitten.

  The next morning Chanel’s hotel suite overflowed with flowers—courtesy of the duke. When she returned to Paris, still more flowers began arriving regularly at her home in the Faubourg Saint-Honoré, along with extravagant gifts of jewelry—including a huge, uncut emerald. Even the duke’s letters arrived with great drama: Rather than coming in the morning mail, they were personally delivered by couriers dispatched from England. The duke mistrusted the postal system and routinely used his considerable fortune to circumvent mailing any letters.

  This was to be an all-out campaign. Despite the obvious appeal of such a worldly and ardent aristocrat, Chanel kept her distance. She remained leery of this still-married man with the terrible reputation. Coco knew what it meant to be a kept woman and had no intention of reverting to that life, no matter how grand the scale. “The Duke frightened me,” she told Iya Abdy. The gifts continued. Bendor sent her fruit from his private orchards and rare orchids and lilies he’d picked himself in the hothouses of the Eaton Estate (where he employed hundreds of gardeners). He even sent fresh salmon, fished from his own streams in Scotland and shipped privately by plane to Paris.

  The more Chanel demurred, the more Westminster pursued her. His pied-à-terre in Paris—a suite at the Hôtel Lotti, at 7, rue de Castiglione—was just a block from Place Vendôme, and Bendor tried to see Coco every time he came to town. He even attended rehearsals of The Blue Train, where his presence sparked the first press reports of a possible romance between them. Finally, Coco invited him to a dinner with her artist friends, including the Serts, Serge Lifar, and Maurice Sachs. The evening proved disappointing. The duke had little knowledge of modern art or music and much of the conversation eluded him. Not one to admit ignorance and not given to intellectual curiosity, Bendor turned condescending—suggesting that Cocteau write the history of his (Bendor’s) dogs as a way of making extra money. Chanel’s friends bristled at this new arrogant suitor.

  Inevitably, though, Bendor’s allure wore down Coco’s defenses. When in the spring of 1924 he invited her again for dinner aboard Flying Cloud—this time moored near Biarritz—she accepted. There were one hundred guests in attendance that night but when the party ended, only ninety-nine went ashore. Bendor had his captain set off for a midnight cruise. Under the stars, he and Coco danced to the music of the private orchestra he’d paid to remain on the yacht through the night.

  If Coco still had qualms about seeing a married man, she put them aside. Soon she was hosting social functions with the duke, even though Violet was still legally Duchess of Westminster. (“Coco is here in place of Violet,” wrote Churchill to his wife after a salmon-fishing party with Chanel and the duke.) Within a year the awkward situation resolved itself, although not without some acrimony. In August 1924, The New York Times announced the impending divorce of the Duke and Duchess of Westminster, along with news that, pending a settlement, the duke had enjoined his wife Violet from even entering Eaton Hall. Violet lashed out at her adulterous husband in the press, declaring that he had rendered her “homeless.” But once more Bendor had extricated himself from a marriage. His relationship with Chanel quickly attracted more attention from the press. On October 13, 1924, an article in Britain’s Daily Express speculated that the next Duchess of Westminster could be a “clever and charming Frenchwoman who heads one of the big Parisian couture houses.”

  Although she did not speak of it, Chanel must have believed in the possibility of a marriage to Westminster. Why else would she have thrown herself into the life of a châtelaine? Being with Bendor meant accompanying him on his continual journeys on land and sea, from house to house, and honing the social and sporting skills of the British aristocracy. Just visiting his own properties took up much of the duke’s time.

  Among the properties they frequented most was the neo-Dutch style Château de Woolsack at Mimizan, perched on a lake in the Landes district of France, between Bordeaux and Biarritz. The woods were rich with wild game—especially boar—and Coco perfected her hunting skills, often alongside such illustrious guests as Salvador Dalí, Charlie Chaplin, Sir Anthony Eden, and David Lloyd George. It was here that Coco first met Winston Churchill, who’d befriended Bendor during the Boer War, and who remained close to him throughout their lives, despite their political differences.

  Churchill was particularly fond of visiting the house at Mimizan. An amateur painter, he found the light there inspiring. Churchill found Chanel impressive, too, writing to his wife after a weekend, “The famous Coco turned up and I took a great fancy to her. A most capable and agreeable woman with the strongest personality Benny has yet been up against. She hunted vigorously all day, motored to Paris after dinner and is today engaged in passing and improving dresses on endless streams of mannequins.” Chanel later said that with Westminster, she had “calmed down,” but Churchill’s letter gives us a good idea of the frenetic pace she had to keep up simply to maintain what amounted to a double life as Paris couturière and duchess in training.

  Sometimes, though, her professional life merged with her country estate living. Along with Churchill and the other luminaries, Mimizan hosted visitors of more modest means: Chanel’s workers. During his many visits to Chanel’s studio, the duke had taken an interest in the seamstresses or petites mains (little hands) as they were called and, in the spirit of noblesse oblige, offered to let them use his house as a vacation retreat. Although she had rarely expressed especial interest in workers’ rights, Chanel acceded, becoming one of the first couturiers to offer paid holidays. Throughout the years of her relationship with Bendor, Coco’s senior seamstresses enjoyed two-week stints in the hunting lodge at Mimizan, marveling at the splendor of their surroundings and partaking even of the château’s excellent cuisine, which showcased the region’s wild game.

  For northerly shore vacations, the duke would repair to his residence in Saint-Saëns, in Normandy, near Deauville, Chanel’s old stomping ground. When he wished to travel there from Great Britain, he would have his private railway car attached to the fabled Orient Express after crossing the English Channel at Southampton on his boat train. To take in the Mediterranean sun he frequently rented villas on the Côte d’Azur and would yacht down to Cannes and Monte Carlo.

  A sailor from childhood, Bendor had a special passion for the sea and tended to assess the mettle of his paramours by their reactions to boats. More than one lady friend had found herself banished permanently to shore for showing fear of squalls or succumbing to seasickness. Chanel had never learned to swim and she found sailing monotonous. But she found her sea legs quickly, apt as ever at grasping the requirements of a new social situation. Aboard Cutty Sark and Flying Cloud, Coco never faltered once, not even during severe storms. Impressed, the duke dubbed her his “favorite cabin boy.”

  Back in Britain, Coco would accompany Bendor as he traveled among his many residences. In London, they lodged at his palatial home, Bourdon House, on Davies Street, just off Grosvenor Square. In the Scottish Highlands, they enjoyed grouse hunting and salmon fishing in the River Cassley while staying at Rosehall House, a twenty-room mansion in the Sutherland region, fifty miles north of Inverness. The duke had bought this retreat soon after
meeting Coco, and in a show of generosity and admiration for her talents, granted her carte blanche to redo its décor according to her taste. Soon the old rural estate bore the stamp of her distinctively modern sensibilities.

  Chanel in fishing gear, c. 1930

  She removed all the ornate antique fireplaces in the house and replaced them with simple wooden ones; she recovered all the public reception rooms with wallpaper in neutral tones of cream, beige, and green; and she brought in hand-painted French floral wallpaper for the bedroom she shared with the duke. Coco brought another kind of French sophistication to the Highlands, too, installing what was reputed to be Scotland’s first bidet, in the master bath of the second floor. How could she not have imagined herself as the future lady of this (and every other) manor?

  Mainly, though, Coco and Bendor lived at Eaton Hall, his sprawling castle and accompanying grounds in Cheshire, England. There, Chanel completed an intensive apprenticeship in royal living. Eaton was “not a house, it’s a town,” remarked Loelia Ponsonby, who would later become the third Duchess of Westminster:

  My general impression was of a conglomeration of buildings spreading in all directions, with a vast central block in the style of a French chateau and, towering over all, a campanile which seemed nearly as tall as Big Ben. In the middle of the courtyard was a colossal bronze horseman, falcon on wrist, mirrored in an ornamental pool, and the far side was enclosed by an ornate gilded screen and gates. Beyond the gates a double avenue of trees stretched into the distance, practically reaching to the town of Chester.… To my beglamoured eyes it all seemed like a story palace, complete with a Prince Charming living in it.

  Perhaps because she, too, came from an aristocratic background, Ponsonby can admit here her own wonderment at Eaton Hall. Chanel, always more guarded, would not have likened the estate to a “fairy story palace,” but she did describe it as evoking a “gothic style out of Sir Walter Scott.” While Coco was well accustomed by this time to great privilege, life with Westminster existed on another scale altogether: “I knew with him a luxury the world will never see again,” she said.

  Entertaining at Eaton routinely involved sixty or more guests for dinner, followed by performances by comedians or ventriloquists, and then an orchestra for dancing. In this highly theatrical setting, Coco’s recent work for the Ballets Russes came in handy. She had acquired a refined appreciation for the power of costuming. For her new role as hostess at Eaton, she made herself a series of evening dresses designed for dancing—with multiple layers of silk fringes that floated in the air when she moved, giving her the air of a bird in flight. She had her petites mains sew versions of these dresses in solid black, white, red, and deep blue.

  Eaton Hall

  Among its hundreds of vast, stone corridors, Eaton featured a gallery of Roman busts, a gallery of horse portraits, and a library containing ten thousand books. The exquisitely manicured grounds included lakes, gardens, and wooded areas, along with the duke’s prize hothouses filled with rare plants. Ever a diligent student, Coco would study the map of the estate but often found herself lost nevertheless. She didn’t mind, however, since despite its splendor, Coco found a simple, rustic charm at Eaton. She loved taking long walks over the quiet grounds, rowing out onto the lake with the duke, or stopping to gather wildflowers. This kind of contemplative country living felt oddly familiar and comforting to her—it reminded her of her childhood at Aubazine.

  Eaton Hall and the austere convent did, in fact, resemble each other. Both featured high stone walls, long, echoing marble corridors, and imposing medieval staircases, all set on acres of rolling green hills. To the shock of the armies of gardeners, Coco dared enter the hothouses and cut some of the flowers, arranging them in vases throughout the château—no one had ever thought to bring any of the flowers inside. She found a hothouse growing strawberry plants and brought the duke to join her in picking and eating them on the spot, outside in the sunshine. He’d had no idea that berries grew on his property. With the duke as proof of how very far she’d come, Chanel could indulge now in these humble pleasures. Often, she invited her nephew André Palasse—who was living in Mayfair and managing Coco’s London-based business—and his toddler daughter, Gabrielle, to the château. Coco was the child’s godmother, and the duke had agreed to be her godfather. Little Gabrielle, the peddler’s great-granddaughter, gamboled over the green lawns at Eaton Hall, holding hands with her “Auntie Coco” and “Uncle Benny,” as she called them in her fluent, upper-class English. The trio formed a charming and convincing family tableau. Bendor seemed entirely enchanted.

  Chanel took pleasure in the easy, unregimented style of life enjoyed at Eaton Hall. This was a welcome contrast to her early experience of château living, at Balsan’s Royallieu, where she had been something of an on-call concubine. It also differed sharply from the schedule kept at many of the country homes of other titled friends, where mealtimes were set in advance, along with tee times, tennis court appointments, and the like. At Westminster’s estate, Coco enjoyed unstructured time.

  “I had been living … with too much intensity.… With Westminster, there was nothing to do.… I lived life in the fresh air,” she told Marcel Haedrich. And although she was not officially duchess, Coco was treated as absolute mistress of the manor by the hundreds of employees and servants. She grew comfortable with life at the estate and her new role there. She developed a particular fondness for an antique suit of armor that stood at the foot of one of the château’s grand staircases—a relic, perhaps, from a long-ago battle fought by a Westminster ancestor. That empty metal suit came to life for Chanel, like a welcoming totem. “When I was certain no one could see me, I would approach and shake his hand,” she told Charles-Roux. “He had become for me a sort of friend. I imagined him young and handsome.” Projecting its living wearer back into the armor, Chanel was also projecting herself into this new, yet ancient, world. It was a romantic exercise. Rich, famous, independent, and well into her forties, Coco still craved a knight in shining armor.

  Coco recognized a kindred spirit in Westminster. Having so thoroughly reinvented herself, she had little sense of belonging anywhere and was, at heart, very solitary. She found a similar quality in Bendor. “He doesn’t like people very much,” she told Morand, “and much prefers animals and plants.” It was true. Westminster collected exotic animals, which he kept as pets at his various homes. A Brazilian guinea pig resided at Saint-Saëns, in Normandy, and Himalayan monkeys lived at his estate in Scotland. (All her life, Chanel would keep a white porcelain figurine of a monkey in her apartment, which she often picked up to hold and insisted be placed upon the table whenever she ate a meal. No one knew the monkey’s significance, but it’s possible it reminded her of Bendor’s unusual pets, although Balsan had owned a monkey as well.)

  Beneath her lover’s eccentricities, Coco espied his loneliness. Bendor, she said, “[was] isolated by his wealth.” Bored and impatient with the pretensions of his class, the duke was also not above inventing pranks to skewer his friends’ hypocrisies. According to Loelia Ponsonby, Bendor would on occasion empty his bottles of fine, rare brandies and refill them with utter swill—leaving the original labels intact. He then amused himself watching his unsuspecting guests swoon over the “exquisite vintages” they were sure they were drinking. In this, the duke demonstrated yet another point in common with Chanel: They both understood how the right labels can govern desire. His aristocratic ennui meshed perfectly with her class resentment.

  Bendor’s politics would have appealed to Coco as well. Drawn to any philosophy that would balance the social scales by granting her some form of innate or “natural” superiority, Chanel would never have balked at the duke’s adherence to Lord Alfred Milner’s race-based patriotism. And her recent exposure to Grand Duke Dmitri’s protofascism had familiarized her with the kind of casual, aristocratic anti-Semitism to which Bendor was also heavily inclined.

  In 1927, for example, the duke sent one of his typical gifts of fresh Scotti
sh salmon to his good friend Churchill and attached a brief letter noting that the fishes’ “facial expression resembles some of our Hebrew friends.” As often, though, such drawing room anti-Semitism shaded into a more disturbing kind. Ponsonby reported that Bendor kept a copy of a book called The Jews’ Who’s Who, which “purported to tell the exact quantity of Jewish blood coursing through the veins of the aristocratic families of England.” According to Loelia, Bendor kept the book carefully hidden in a locked case: “I could never make out whether he thought that the Jews would send some burglar to steal it or whether, knowing that I did not share his anti-Semitic phobia, he suspected that I had designs on it.”

  Given the duke’s interest in Jewishness as a blood-borne condition, it is not surprising that in the years leading up to the Second World War (he and Chanel had parted by then but remained on good terms), Bendor became closely involved with two pro-Nazi, virulently anti-Semitic British organizations, the Right Club and the Link. Both organizations were dedicated to promoting the notion that Jews were leading a financial conspiracy to drag Britain into war with Germany.

  Bendor’s pro-Nazi activities escalated throughout the 1930s, and by 1939 he had made common cause with a group of prominent Britons engaged in back-channel communications with the Third Reich, trying to ensure what they called “peace at any price,” which included appeasing any and all German demands. Lady Diana Cooper, an old friend of Westminster’s (and wife of “Duff” Cooper), recounts in her memoirs a scene in which Bendor shocked a group of his friends with his political and racial views: “He started by abusing the Jewish race, adding his praise for the Germans and rejoicing that we were not yet at war.… And when he added that Hitler knew after all that we were his best friends, he set off the powder-magazine.… The next day Bendor telephoning to a friend said that if there were a war it would be entirely due to the Jews.”