Sonia Rykiel was a French fashion designer and writer. She created the Poor Boy Sweater, which was featured on the cover of French Elle magazine. Her knitwear designs and new fashion techniques led her to be dubbed
the "Queen of Knits". The Sonia Rykiel label was founded in 1968 upon
the opening of her first store, making clothing, accessories and
fragrances. Rykiel was also a writer and her first book was published in
1979. In 2012, Rykiel revealed that she was suffering from Parkinson's.
She died from complications of the disease on 25 August 2016. Sonia
Rykiel, the Paris fashion designer who planted her contrarian flag on
the Left Bank in the 1960s, flouted haute couture conventions and
created chic ready-to-wear clothes that caught on around the world with
generations of women on the go, died on Thursday at her home in Paris.
The
death was announced by the Élysée Palace, the office of the French
president, and by Ms. Rykiel’s daughter, Nathalie, the vice chairman and
former artistic director of the fashion house her mother began.
Often likened to Coco Chanel, the designer who liberated women from corsets in the flapper 1920s, the
free-spirited Ms. Rykiel (pronounced ree-KYEL) made fashions for women
who, like herself, were proud of their pregnancies, sophisticated about
sex and too busy to fuss over the latest designer fads — women who
wanted to look smart, but needed to get on with their lives.
She
was best known for raising old-fashioned knitwear to flattering new and
practical designs: figure-hugging skirts and sweaters, especially
ribbed pullovers with high armholes that made the shoulders seem
smaller, torsos narrower and legs longer.
The news media called them “poor boy” sweaters. They made the cover of Elle, and they were snapped up by Anouk Aimée, Audrey Hepburn, Catherine Deneuve and Lauren Bacall, among others.
Two
French presidents conferred the Legion of Honor, the nation’s highest
award, on Ms. Rykiel. She was as recognizable to many Parisians as were
the politicians in the Élysée Palace: a dramatic, sparrowlike woman,
always in black, with a pale powdered face engulfed in a mass of titian
hair and bangs that fell to heavily mascaraed green eyes. She looked a
bit like Édith Piaf, France’s national chanteuse.
“My color is black,” she once told an American fashion editor. “And black, if it’s worn right, is a scandal.”
In
a fashion world often seen as a fantasyland of beautiful people and
expensive, impractical clothing, she had always been a rebel. Her career
spanned nearly a half-century, and while she made clothes for a broad
clientele of working and professional women, singles and mothers,
including socialites and chief executives, she was after the woman who
wanted value and style.
Her typical patron? “She is fragile, but strong,” Ms. Rykiel said to the New York Times in 1987. “We are working women. Also, we have the problem of children,
of men, to take care of our houses, so many things. I try to explain
that in my clothes. They are clothes for everyday life.”
Unlike
many designers whose lives center on fashion, Ms. Rykiel was also a
writer, and her works included magazine columns, a novel, a children’s
book, an epistolary exchange with the writer Régine Deforges, and books
on fashion and her own life. Her Paris apartment, with black-lacquered
walls and piles of serious books, was a salon for writers, philosophers,
musicians, actors, politicians and academics.
Ms.
Rykiel began designing clothes when she was carrying her second child,
in 1961. At a time when maternity clothes were made primarily to conceal
bulging midriffs, she could find nothing she liked in stores. They all
seemed to convey shame, apologies or suggestions of embarrassment. So
she designed an outfit for herself, with a fitted bodice and flowing
skirts — one that celebrated her pregnancy.
“I
wanted to show the world how happy I was,” Ms. Rykiel told Newsweek in
1976. “My mother-in-law was scandalized, but my friends asked how they
could find one like it.”
She
eschewed traditions. Instead of making clothes for young women and
assuming older women trying to look young would buy them, too, she
designed dresses, trousers and jackets for no age group. Some critics
called it absurd, trying to squeeze young and old into similar clothes.
But others said they were becoming on matrons and 20-somethings, and
they were comfortable, durable and reasonably priced.
Unbound
by training or trends, she broke all the rules. She emphasized pants
when skirts were stylish, and hot colors when somber hues were in.
Rivals scoffed when she repeated themes, like red, white and blue
stripes, after short intervals. She was one of the first to splash
words, like “mode” or “amour,” on designs. She produced fanny-wrappers,
long tight sashes for the hips and derrière. It worked.
And
to depose outdated customs, like changes of clothing during the day,
Ms. Rykiel made reversible dresses and jackets, and she created flexible
designs in culottes, which offered the silhouette of a skirt and
freedom of movement. She made garments that could be worn inside-out by
breaking more rules: eliminating darts, exposing raw edges of seams and
doing away with finished hems.
She
reversed things at fashion shows, too. “While most designers presented
their collections on sullen, haughty goddesses who posed in a spotlight
at the end of the catwalk, Rykiel sent her models down the runway in
groups, chatting and laughing, like friends having fun,” Holly Brubach wroted in the WWD in 1987.
Ms.
Rykiel, who sold her maternity wear and poor-boy knits at her husband’s
store in the ’60s, soon had an avid following. She opened her own
boutique in St.-Germain-des-Prés in May 1968 but closed it for a time as
Sorbonne students rioted, touching off strikes and protests that
paralyzed France for weeks. During the ’70s, sales of her ready-to-wear
designs grew enormously.
“The
Rykiel mystique has reached such a pass that steel-eyed women were said
to cry at the showing of the spring collection for store buyers this
week,” Bernadine Morris said in the New York Times in 1974. “She was told head-turning things: that the collection was the
best she had ever done, that it was the best in Paris at this time,
that it was the best ever. Much of it is true. Rykiel clothes have just
passed from being the delight of connoisseurs to having an impact on
mass fashion.”
In
the 1980s, the Rykiel product lines grew to include clothing for men
and children, household items, cosmetics, lingerie, perfumes and
accessories. Some Rykiel clothing was criticized as too casual or too
revealing, with models occasionally flashing their breasts. But
reviewers generally praised her work as reflecting a new attitude and
freedom.
“I think creativity is inside you,” Ms. Rykiel mentioned in the New York Times in 1982. “If you have something to tell, you expose it. I never went to
any design school. I was so strong in my thinking and my way of seeing
fashion, I knew exactly what I wanted. I said to myself, ‘I have no
limits.’
She
was born Sonia Flis in Paris on May 25, 1930, the oldest of five
daughters of a Romanian father and a Russian mother. Her father was a
watchmaker and her mother a housewife interested in fashion. She grew up
in Neuilly-sur-Seine, northwest of Paris, in a home where politics, art
and literature were discussed at the dinner table.
At
17, she got a job as a window dresser in a Paris dry goods store, and
she drew the attention of the artist Henri Matisse with a display of
colorful scarves. He bought them all. It was her first hint of
creativity in fabrics.
In
1953, she married Sam Rykiel, who owned a Paris boutique. They had two
children, Nathalie and Jean-Philippe, who survive her. The couple
divorced in 1968.
By
1990, when Ms. Rykiel opened her flagship store on the Boulevard
St.-Germain, a business that had begun with a single boutique had grown
into a global enterprise with sales in 200 retail outlets in Europe,
Asia and the United States. The number of outlets later grew to more
than 1,000.
In
1985, President François Mitterrand named Ms. Rykiel a chevalier of the
Legion of Honor. In 2008, President Nicolas Sarkozy named her a grand
commander of the legion for lifetime service to fashion, a major
national industry.
“Sonia Rykiel was a free woman, a pioneer who was able to forge her own path,” the Élysée Palace mentioned on Thursday. “Having created her own company, she opened her first
store in St.-Germain-des-Prés in May 1968. She invented not only a
style, but also an attitude, a way of living and of being, and gave
women a freedom of movement.
Passionate about culture, she did not
conceive of fashion without the arts, which were always present in her
creations. Her style is known across the world. It will remain a symbol
of the remarkable alliance of color and the natural, of fluidity and
light.”
Ms.
Rykiel retired in 2009. Her daughter became the company’s artistic
director in 1995 and its president in 2007. In 2012, Fung Brands, an
investment firm backed by two Hong Kong billionaires.
Ms.
Rykiel continued to attend fashion shows and to travel and write. In
her last book, “N’Oubliez Pas Que Je Joue,” or “Don’t Forget That I’m
Acting” (2012, with Judith Perrignon), she disclosed that she had had
Parkinson’s disease, a progressive neurological disorder, for 15 years
and had kept it secret, even from her family, until she could no longer
hide the symptoms.
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