The magnificent and lamentable family of the nervous is the salt of the earth. It's they and no one else who founded religions and created masterpieces." The above quote, from Proust, rested on a wall in the atelier of the late fashion couturier, Yves Saint Laurent, who died in his apartment last week in Paris at the age of 71. After reading several obituaries on his death, I learned, (mainly from the extensive Women's Wear Daily story, " Au Revoir, Yves, that he was a nervous wreck and riddled with anxiety. Dubbed a maverick and revolutionary, he is known for questioning the institution of dress, sexuality and beauty, and bringing Parisian beatnik style to couture runways. He was a voracious reader, stated the WWD column, and cherished his artistic influences, such as Christian Berard, Jean Cocteau, Louis Jouvet, and above all, Marcel Proust, calling them his "aesthetic phantoms." He said he never wanted to finish reading "Remembrance of Things Past" because he couldn't bear to part with it.
At Chateau Gabriel, a 19th-century castle in Normandy that he owned jointly with his partner, Pierre Bergé, all the guest rooms were named after Proustian characters.
Sadly, his nervous condition worsened with time, and Saint Laurent became reliant on drugs, especially when it came to presenting a season with a new collection. At the announcement of his retirement in 2002, Mr. Saint Laurent said, “I have known fear and the terrors of solitude. I have known those fair-weather friends we call tranquilizers and drugs. I have known the prison of depression and the confinement of hospital. But one day, I was able to come through all of that, dazzled yet sober.”
