A young André
Surrounded by black models.
The great Diana Vreeland.
American designer Halston.
The legendary Karl Lagerfeld.
Vogue Editor Anna Wintour.
Iconic Yves Saint Laurent.
Super Model Naomi Campbell.
André Leon Talley
Fashion as Church, Style as Salvation
One of the memoir’s most touching elements is the sacred weight Talley gives to fashion. For him, it is not mere vanity—it is divinity. Raised in the Black church, Talley learned early the power of presentation. He draws a direct line from the Sunday bests of his Southern upbringing to the glories of haute couture, and it's this reverence that gives the book its soulful weight.
His descriptions of garments are rhapsodic. A Galliano cape is not just a coat—it is “a moment of epiphany.” A Chanel suit is “cathedral architecture rendered in boucle.” Talley doesn’t just write about clothes; he worships them. And for readers who see fashion as art, not commerce, this is pure gospel.
But he also addresses how that church of fashion can become a cold place for those deemed ‘other’. Talley is keenly aware of how his body, race, and sexuality have been used to other him—even as he stood centre stage. His commentary on fatphobia, ageism, and the erasure of Black voices in fashion is searing. He may love the chiffon trenches, but he’s not afraid to call out the rot beneath the ruching.
Icons, Intimacy, and the Price of Proximity
One of the memoir’s strengths lies in its access. Talley didn’t just know the legends—he styled them, comforted them, ate with them, travelled with them. He gives us unfiltered glimpses into Karl Lagerfeld’s wit and whims, Oscar de la Renta’s generosity, and Lee Radziwill’s elusive glamour. But it’s not all sparkle.
The price of proximity, Talley reminds us, is often silence. He reflects with raw honesty on how often he stayed quiet to stay included, how often he bent over backwards for approval that never quite came. There’s a heartbreaking thread running through the narrative—a loneliness masked in kaftans, a hunger for love amid a diet of validation.
And yet, Talley never loses his grandiosity, his unrelenting belief in his own worth. That duality—vulnerability and grandeur—is what makes this memoir unforgettable.
A Queer, Black Fashion History Lesson We All Needed
For those of us in the LGBTQ+ community, Talley’s voice is a beacon. He is unapologetically queer without ever needing to perform queerness for the reader. His queerness is innate, elegant, and woven into every page, much like a silk lining you only glimpse if you care to look. He speaks with tenderness of his chaste loves, his desire for intimacy, and his complicated relationship with desire itself.
In a fashion landscape still reckoning with its diversity deficit, The Chiffon Trenches is a corrective—a reminder that Black queer men have always been central to style, even if the spotlight rarely lingers long enough to show it. Talley doesn’t just belong in fashion history; he is fashion history.
Conclusion: Why You Need This Book on Your Shelf, Stat
Reading The Chiffon Trenches is like sitting front row at the couture shows with a seasoned editor whispering insider gossip in your ear. It’s educational, emotional, and deliciously entertaining. But more than that, it’s vital.
André Leon Talley invites us not just into his life, but into his soul—a soul stitched in taffeta, trimmed in truth, and utterly unforgettable. His story isn’t always pretty, but it’s always beautiful.
So yes, dear reader, buy the book. Read it with your best reading glasses, draped in your fiercest kimono, and prepare to be moved not just by the glamour, but by the grit.
Because in the end, The Chiffon Trenches isn’t just about fashion. It’s about fighting to be seen, to be valued, to be heard. And that, my loves, is always in style. Please read the book and then let's start a conversation on my Instagram.
I often get the audio copy of the books when available; they are perfect for my daily walks—link to the audiobook.
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