Halston Remembered

When Fashion was King and New York was Hot

Jun. 01, 2012

12:15 p.m.

Maybe it's a measure of how constipated our culture has become that the '70s have begun to resemble a lost golden age of fashion and fun. At least back then, people didn't amuse themselves by tapping out short messages on their phones. Hey, most people still dialed from landlines! Fun meant dressing up and going outor at least looking at pictures of those who lived in the right places and could afford to party in high style. And at the center of that action was a debonair fellow known simply as Halston, a prince among fashion designers and the toast of Studio 54. The documentary Ultrasuede: In Search of Halston (out on DVD) is a fascinating look back at New York in the '70sa time when the city sizzled with creative energy and Manhattan served as a long runway for Halston and his entourage. Despite his mid-Atlantic accent and manners, Halston was the latest Jay Gatsby to emerge from the Midwest in the bright lights of the big city. By the time Halston arrived, the center of visual art had already shifted from Paris to NYC. In his hands, couture would follow suit. Halston knew fabric and knew how to wield a scissors; he also had the imagination to pare fashion down to an elegant essence in classic lines that avoid the scourge of looking ridiculously dated. Liza Minnelli, interviewed by director Whitney Sudler-Smith, is still wearing her black Halston blouse and velvet pants. With his charming air and handsome good looks, the designer was photogenic and was often photographed with such friends and associates as Andy Warhol, Lauren Bacall, Truman Capote and Mick and Bianca Jagger. Even the Fords and Carters flitted at the edge of his light. But the '70s became the '80s and the candles that once burned on both ends were snuffed out. Halston's low-end fashion line for J.C. Penny bombed, tarnishing his star. He made the mistake of selling the rights to his own name and with the rise of corporate takeovers, the house of Halston eventually fell into the hands of Beatrice foods, whose died-in-wool executives essentially fired him. Sex and drugs and disco charged a heavy toll. Halston died of AIDS in 1990. He was 57. If there is a cautionary tale in the story, Ultrasuede's director missed it in favor of reveling in the memories of those who survived the big party in the Big Apple. The documentary's main flaw is Suder-Smith, who insists on inserting himself into the film. Try his best, he's not the star of Ultrasuede.