Savoir Faire in the Salle a Manger

For a sheer sense of scale and luxe nothing could even beat or even come close to the 1st class salle a manger aboard the French line’s Normandie of the 1930’s. Mind you we will never see the likes of such a room again in the future either on land or at sea. This was a temple of gastronomy where the elite of the day took their meals, which by the amount of items offered on the menu, could have seen them dining for hours on end.

Normandie was a showcase of the very best that France had to offer, naturally done completely in fantastic Art Deco-style. Thanks to the split funnel uptakes, the Normandie’s interiors were matched by no other ship. The interiors of the liner with filled with grand perspectives, spectacular entryways, and long, wide staircases.

Entering through the embarkation hall prospective diners entered through 20-foot tall doors adorned with bronze medallions by artist Raymond Subes. I am sure that when one found one’s self at the top of the staircase leading into the First Class salle a manger for the first time your heart would have skipped a beat. After being announced by a bellboy attired in traditional French Line red livery you would have descended this grand staircase hoping that all were watching.

Ensconced by giant bas reliefs on each side of the entrance, you had to run the gauntlet under close scrutiny past the most sought after tables in the whole room into the main salle a manger.

Just on 200 tables and chairs were set in a shimmering, glittering temple of Savoir Faire. Illuminated by master glass craftsman Lalique, 12 tall pillars of Lalique glass were flanked by 38 matching columns along the walls of hammered glass panels. When illuminated from within the room took on an unparrelld glow. These with chandeliers hung at each end of the room gave the room a sparkling atmosphere which earned the Normandie the nickname "Ship of Light”.

Continually touted as being longer than the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles the room rose 28 feet above the diner’s heads to cumulate in a coffered ceiling covered in gold leaf. Presiding over the far end of the room was “La Paix” a gilded bronze statue by Dejean, of a toga clad woman.

Combined with lighting, the shimmer of the ceilings and walls and the dazzling jewelry and haute couture of the day, this must have been a sight, which makes dining on Cunard’s latest incarnation of the Queen Mary seem like MacDonald’s.

On Ruhlman inspired furniture diners then spent several hours dining on menus that were continually noted for being some of the finest examples of French cuisine on the Atlantic.

No matter what class you were travelling in whether it be first or third, Lalique, Christofle and Sevres was the dinnerware of choice by the French line.

Just because you were travelling in 2nd class or tourist didn’t mean that you were left out. 2nd class diners somehow had to manage in the below room, with meals austerely limited to 6 or seven courses.

Now the Holy Grail of ship buffs (my self included) the Normandie and especially the salle a manger was such stuff as dreams are made on. Tragically after several years of service while being fitted out as a troop transport in New York during World War II she caught fire and was a total wreck, only to be sold for scrap metal.

Whatever Happened to?

For someone who was one of the top models of the 1950’s and who had a high profile marriage and affair it is surprising that so little information seems to be available on Fiona Campbell-Walter before and even after she achieved her fame. Lots of photographs out there, but as to the lady herself; nothing. Invariably when doing research all I came up with the names of the famous, titled and wealthy men she was associated with.


Born Fiona Frances Elaine Campbell-Walter in New Zealand in 1932, she was at the top of her game in the 1950’s as one of the most popular models of her day. Some of the photos of her modelling are some of the most recognised for the era. Unlike Bronwen Pugh who modelled exclusively for Balmain she modelled for a plethora of designers such as Balenciaga, Schiaparelli and Fath.

In Schiaparelli

Royal photographer Cecil Beaton claimed her as his favourite model, and she regularly graced the cover of glossy magazines such as Vogue, earning 2000 Pounds a day, considered a fortune in the mid-50s.

In Balenciaga

One photographer said of her: "She was so young then the make-up wouldn't stay on her face. Her skin wouldn't support make-up; she was so fresh and beautiful, with that marvellous profile and great allure."

In 1957, after an engagement that lasted just 12 hours she married the Swiss billionaire Baron Hans Heinrich von Thyssen Bornemisza, who even at this stage was amassing one of the greatest private art collections the world has ever seen. He also being one of the world's richest and most sought-after playboys, it seemed a match made in heaven.

Theirs was a glamorous life as can be seen by the photos of the Baroness languishing underneath a fur blanket while in the Swiss Alps.

Life was hard for the ex-model who now “as a housewife she sees that the pictures on the wall hang straight as they should in a great collection of art”

Their daughter Francesca married Karl Habsburg-Lothringen heir to the headship of the House of Habsburg-Lorraine.

Fiona and her husband divorced 1965, and she went on to have a well-publicized relationship with Greek shipping heir Alexander Onassis, the only son of Aristotle Onassis, who died in 1973 aged 25 in a plane crash. She was 16 years his senior and of whom his father strongly disapproved. It is believed now that Onassis had intentions of marrying her despite his father's energetic attempts to break them up.

After this highly publicized affair she is now completely off the radar, as it seemed that after her divorce from the Baron it was the beginning of this raven-haired beauty’s fall from grace. With the Baron’s death there was a scrabble by family, numerous ex wives and governments for the art collection, but as to Fiona, well …………

Work Wear Monday

I have been finding lately that people really when they are going to work just throw on anything and kind of hope for the best. When I first started my working life a suit and tie were always de rigueur for men and women hardly ever wore trousers let alone jeans to work no matter what position you occupied in your relative company. (Showing my age here).

I had always heard the maxim “That you should always dress for the job you would like to have” and I still subscribe to this, to a certain degree. However these days I am not sure whether this is apt in a lot of work places. There are all sorts of things to take into place. I work in a pretty casual environment due to the nature of the organisation (Social Service organisation dealing with People with Developmental Disabilities). I am an Executive Assistant to three Vice Presidents and they all have their own particular style from jeans to smart casual. I try and set an example befitting of my position to find a common ground amongst these different styles.

Currently I am drawing inspiration from below (all from Smalto), minus the scarf for my work wear, even though I do like the pop of colour that the scarf brings. What do you think?

She Took to her Bed

Countess Mona Von Bismarck perhaps one of the most beautiful women in the world and one of the wealthiest for her time had her fair share of savoir fair. Collecting husbands like they were stamps and continuously on the world’s best dressed list she was a style icon to be reckoned with, becoming a Countess when she married one of Bismarck’s grandsons.

When Cristobal Balenciaga closed his atelier in 1968, Diana Vreeland quipped that Mona didn't leave her bedroom in the villa at Capri for three days.

When she was 74 she married Umberto de Martini who was 14 years her junior much to the worry of her friends . Through her old friend, Italy’s exiled King Umberto II, Mona purchased a title for him and he was created Count Umberto de Martini on 10 January 1973. 1979, Mona’s last husband was killed when the sports car he was driving careened off a bridge Inevitably Mona’s friends referred to the accident as “Martini on the rocks.” His will made it evident that he had planned to outlive her and inherit her fortune. Having told her that he was opening a clinic, he had already pocketed $3 million in a Swiss bank account and made bequests to an embarrassing number of relatives of whom Mona was unaware. She quickly dropped his name and resumed calling herself “Countess Bismarck.”

Mona’s old friend Cecil Beaton visited her at Capri later in life and was shocked to find that all traces of her famous beauty had left her. “She is now suddenly a wreck. Her hair, once white and crisp and a foil to her aquamarine eyes, is now a little dried frizz, and she has painted a grotesque mask on the remains of what was once such a noble-hewn face, the lips enlarged like a clown, the eyebrows penciled with thick black grease paint, the flesh down to the pale lashes coated with turquoise… Oh, my heart broke for her.”

Mona spent her last years putting her affairs in order and making arrangements for various paintings to be disbursed to institutions of her choosing. On 10 July 1983, she died at her house in Paris. She was buried in a Givenchy gown with her third and fourth husbands, Harrison Williams and Count Eddie von Bismarck, at Glen Cove on Long Island.

What a way to go!

In the Swim with Savoir Faire

Savoir Faire is enchanted with the below pictures courtesy of Michael Muller. We are all so used to seeing underwater fashion editorial pictures of women, so it is nice to see a fashion shoot with men submerged in the ocean.

I am loving the colour range in these photos, with the cool blueness of the water being mirrored in the clothes chosen for the shoot. In this case white and yellow are chosen to create that “pop” of colour (so to speak).

The models themselves take on an ethereal look which is something that is usually reserved for women, creating a beguiling soft hue, which tempts one to look closer. The shaft of sunlight penetrating the liquid coolness highlights this.

So get in the swim with some savoir faire hoping we look as good as these young men.

Lest we Forget

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

"In Flanders Fields" is one of the most notable poems written during World War I.

The poppies referred to in the poem grew in profusion in Flanders in the disturbed earth of the battlefields and cemeteries where war casualties were buried and thus became a symbol of Remembrance Day.

Modern public readings of the poem, stress the debt to the dead and the necessity to honor their memory in ceremonies often focusing on the sacrifice and sorrow of war.

As a symbol of remembrance the humble Flanders poppy is one of the most beautiful and recognised. With a simple little gesture of wearing a poppy we give a sign that they are not forgotten. This little poppy has been the source of design inspiration for many as seen below. While being essentially graphic in nature I cannot help but look at any of these and think of Flanders and all those that sacrificed themselves in war and will do so in the future.

Let us remember them everyday and not just on November 11th.