Her trademark owlish glasses notwithstanding, the incomparable Iris Apfel has long had remarkable vision, shaping fashion and interior design in dramatic, unexpected ways over the better part of a century. She’s overseen projects inside the White House for nine presidents (from Truman to Clinton), inspired a wildly successful exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and served as the subject of a new documentary, simply called Iris. Her bold designs, remarkable wit, and gusto for life are just a few of the reasons she was honored at the Saint Louis Fashion Fund’s second annual gala, November 4 at Union Station.
St. Louis Magazine sat down with the 94-year-old icon on the night before the gala for an exclusive interview.
Welcome to St. Louis.
Thank you. It’s a pleasure to be here. I didn’t know what to expect, but I’m overwhelmed. This place is groovy.
Is there anything you're looking forward to seeing while you're here?
I want to see the town, but I’m more interested in the people. I think it’s wonderful what [the Fashion Fund] is doing, and I look forward to tomorrow evening.
One of the Fashion Fund's missions is to mentor young designers, which you do with students from the University of Texas at Austin.
It’s important because these kids go to school and come out not too much the wiser. I don’t think they’re taught fashion history... You’d ask questions to the kids, and they seemed to think the fashion world began with Tom Ford. They don’t know anything about wonderful people like Jimmy Galanos—all of the greats of the twentieth century. I decided that when the kids came to New York and couldn’t find a job as a designer or merchandise person, they’d cry or go home with their tail between their legs. I said, "We have to do something and show them that fashion is a big umbrella, and it covers so many areas they don't even know about." So I decided to do this program, and it’s been widely successful. They come every year, and their lives are changed. They write me the most wonderful letters.
Did you have a mentor as a young person?
Never. I’ve never had a mentor. And I never had anybody that I really drooled over, which was unfortunate. There were two women, as I was growing up, who I thought were pretty great: Pauline de Rothschild and Millicent Rogers. I thought they were two very outstanding and unusual women. Of the two, [Rogers] was more original because she did a lot of things herself. She really lived the part.
When you were younger, you attended college, then embarked on a successful career—an unusual decision for a woman at the time. Why did you choose that path?
I don’t know why I choose anything. I’ve never had a plan. There’s no business plan. I just feel like doing something, and I do it. Originally, I wanted to do editorial fashion, and I never got terribly far with that. I did take a job with Women’s Wear Daily. It was a century ago, and Women's Wear had their offices down on Fifth Avenue and 13th or 12th Street. It was a big ramshackle building full of editors sitting at desks, and there was a creature called the copy girl because there was no technology. They had some pneumatic tubes, but my job was to take notes and papers up and down the stairs and run around like a mad woman. That was my entry-level job. I thought sooner or later I’d get a break, but I stayed for maybe six or eight months and, being very bright, I realized I’d never get any place because all of the editors—I would say 98 percent of them at that time—were female, and they were too old to get pregnant and too young to die. So I thought I’d never get a shot, and I left. The only thing that was good about that job was that I didn't have to go to a gym, because I was up and down and pulling and dragging. It was fun! And I made a magnificent sum of $15 a week—that shows you how far back it was!
Early on, what spoke to you aesthetically?
Oh, I hear a lot of different voices! I don’t go on one path. I like big and bold and dramatic, but I like many different kinds of things—and I like many things that don’t suit me. That doesn’t mean I don’t like them, but for myself, I like offbeat things. I don’t like to look like everybody else. When I was growing up, I always thought it would be better that if I had to look like everybody else and I couldn’t look better, I’d rather look worse. I think this homogeneous society we have, particularly in fashion today, is dreadful. I don’t know why people can’t take a chance and be a little bit daring. You don’t even have to be daring, but try! Young people have such a marvelous opportunity these days, because you have all of this fast fashion and all the new stuff; you don’t have to make investments like we did. They really should look a little more sparkling and individual. I was saying the other day—it was a bit chilly and I was walking in the street—it’s the same uniform I’ve noticed over the last four years. Every young woman, every young woman has a black leather bomber jacket, black tights, high black boots, and from the back they all look alike. I guess from the front they look almost all alike. I don’t know why, but that’s what they do. I guess maybe they feel comfortable.
You've recently bloomed into a fashion celebrity. What was it like to have a documentary and museum exhibition made about you?
I’m a very simple soul, really. I guess I take it all in my stride. I think it’s very nice that it doesn’t go to my head. I’m not doing anything that I didn’t do 70 or 80 years ago. I am 94, and I don’t know whether people have caught up with me or what the heck it is or if they just had a change in attitude. Now I’m cool. I’m hot. I’m whatever it is you’re supposed to be, and it's a lot of fun. It brings me to wonderful places like this, and I get to meet you and my very charming hostess and enjoy myself.
Is there any downside?
The downside is people pounce on me a lot and take my picture all the time. It’s very flattering—don’t misunderstand, I’m not complaining—but it is draining. I’m really a very private person. There are lots of things about me people want to know, but it’s really none of their business. So that’s kind of a difficult balance. I’m really so grateful to the good Lord for giving me this whole new career. I’ve always been extremely busy and worked very hard, but I like to do different things all of the time. Since 2005, when the Met did the show, I have a whole new life. It’s very tiring, but I love it. Do you know there’s no free lunch? You get nothing for nothing. When you learn that, you grow up. So you just have to weigh it and see if it is worth it to you. I’m so thankful every night that I have more to do than I could possibly handle, and it’s all very exciting. It makes life interesting and makes you want to get up in the morning.
You've been photographed by some of the world's best photographers. Do any stand out?
Oh, there are a lot of them. There are a lot of awfully good, unsung photographers. There were some young ones who were terrific. I’m on the cover of the Swiss Annabelle—I’m probably the most antiquated cover girl in history. And everybody seemed to love the MAC photograph; that was Steven Klein. They did a promotion with paper handbags, but huge—one of them from the floor is about this high, with that picture on them. It was just wonderful. When they showed them for the first time, I almost fainted. But as I say, there are many, and some of the big ones are duds. I just have to be lucky.
You are often photographed in your homes, and quite a bit of the documentary Iris was shot at your houses in Florida and New York. What does a home say about you?
A home is an expression of you as your clothes are an expression of you. It either tells who you are or who you want to be. That’s why I think it’s so awful sometimes when people just go to an interior designer and say, “Do me a house," and they buy a finished picture. They’re very beautiful, but they all look alike. When you walk in, you don’t know who lives there.
You decorated some of the greatest homes in America, including the White House...
I didn’t decorate the White House—nobody decorates the White House. That’s such a misconception. Starting with Jackie [Kennedy Onassis], she never did the house. A historic restoration is a very specialized project. To do it properly, it has to be as close as humanly possible to the way it was originally, whether it’s good, bad, or indifferent. You can’t come in and say, “It would’ve been much prettier if they used powder blue instead of olive green. If it was olive green, it’s got to be olive green. I have to say, unhappily, they’re not as careful these days as they used to be. We had to research everything; with a place like the White House, there were very carefully executed inventories. So you have to follow them, and you have to find the original fabrics or get them woven as closely as possible to the way they were. That’s what I enjoy doing because it was a lot of historical research. We worked in the house through at least nine administrations.
Upstairs, if the president or Mrs. President wants to use your services, you can work for them. I don’t know how it is now, but years ago [each president] got X amount of dollars, and they could do anything they wanted upstairs. They could paint it sky-blue, pink—nobody cared. But downstairs, it’s the people’s house, and it had to be pristine and perfect. You couldn’t have, maybe Eisenhower or Hilary Clinton sticking their nose in, who know nothing about [the design]—and half of them don’t care. There were a few first ladies who cared. Pat Nixon was the most caring of all; she was very concerned.
Most of them, years ago, it was a matter of protocol that they would have to sign the order. I don’t know if that still exists, but there’s a fine arts commission that you work with. During a good part of my working experience there, we worked with a fabulous gentleman from Georgia, an interior architect who specialized in that period.
Travel has always been a big part of your life.
I love traveling! Unfortunately, the last [several] years I was limited because my husband couldn’t travel, and we always went together. I did travel for business. I had a great trip to Brazil for Swarovski; I introduced their new collections a few years ago. I’ve gone to London to promote the film. I was in Barcelona as a guest star of the Catalonian government. I’ve been a lot of places, but never just purely because I wanted to go.
What's your favorite item from your travels?
Oh, I don’t have one. That would be so boring. I have millions. I really don’t even know how to begin. Almost everything that I have, I fell madly in love with and had to have. I like all kinds of things. I discovered Mongolian lamb in Paris in the early '70s. I'm just crazy about it, and I love it in all colors—coats, hats, anything. Now they’re using it for home furnishings. I’ve done some wonderful handbag collections made of the fur... Now, I don’t shop that much anymore, but it’s a wonderful feeling. All of a sudden, boom!
You feel it when you see it.
Yes, I feel things very strongly. I’m not a traditional, conventional shopper. I don’t like to go to a store and sit down and have a lovely vendor say to me, “Oh, this is you darling, and you have to have it," or, “Every chic woman in New York is wearing it.” And I say, “Then I don’t want it. Take it away.” I like to dig and hunt. I don’t want to just buy something. It’s the process that I love so much. I think I was a hunter-gatherer in a former creation.
I have to ask about the necklaces and bracelets you're wearing.
These necklaces are my design. I work for a home-shopping network; in September, I celebrated my fourth year. One of the things we started from day one was a link necklace. We do a new collection every time I’m on. This is from Scandinavia. It’s wood. These are a kind of resin. These are some vintage beads that I’ve had for a century. Some of these bracelets are my design, and other ones I picked up on my travels. I’m wearing an Indian reversible jacket; it’s completely different on this side than it is on the other. This one has several colorations, and many of them completely change, so they’re a really good bargain. Two for one! [Laughs.]
Who makes your eyeglasses?
Nobody makes them. I’ve had a collection since I was a kid. I was always fascinated by spectacle frames, and I used to buy them and put them in a box. Sometimes, I would take them out and try them on and think, “What a groovy accessory.” Sometimes, I would wear them without any lenses. Now I have to have lenses, so I took some of them out and then bought some from time to time. I did a couple of collections for eyebobs. But my favorite are the big round ones.
You’re leaving a considerable amount of your clothing and accessories to the Peabody Essex Museum in Massachusetts. What else would you like your legacy to be?
I don’t think about a legacy. I don’t want to think about it. It’s too spooky.
Do you have any regrets?
I suppose a few normal regrets, but I don’t like to harp on them or think about them. If I did something wrong or stupid, it’s gone, finished, and I hope I’ve learned from it.
You still have a lot of energy at 94.
I wish I had more. You’ve got to push yourself. Otherwise, you don’t have any energy, especially when you get older. My mother had a wonderful friend, and every time I talked to her, I would say, “How are you doing today?” She always said, “To tell you the truth, when I get up in the morning, I look around and everything I have two of, one hurts.” That’s the way it is. You don’t operate on all fours, so if you have nothing to do, you can go either go back to bed or sit around, which is terrible and then you feel worse. But unless it’s something terrible—like a broken hip, which I’ve suffered, or pneumonia or something like that—you just have to push yourself. You go out and meet the world and forget about your minor complaints, and everything’s hunky dory.
Return to stlmag.com for a video with excerpts from the interview, along with highlights of Apfel's life and career.
