Lilly herself seemed to handle her great entrepreneurial success like someone enjoying a beautiful day by the pool. Many of the women who worked for her in her shops were friends or daughters of friends. Everything was run like a mom-and-pop shop and Lilly was the Number One mom or pop. The designs and fabrics she used were, I was told more than once, the creations of two guys Lilly had met in Miami. She just liked their work.
That first winter visit to Palm Beach, our hostess Kathy who was working part time in one of the shops, wanted us to see Lilly’s new house which she said was “so divine.” So one day we went off to whatever lane or via to see the house.
I don’t have a clear memory of the exterior on arriving at the new Pulitzer villa, although was probably classic ivory, cream or pastel and white Palm Beach Regency or Georgian. It was smart and elegant. You entered the entrance gallery which let on to a larger room over looking Lake Worth. It was light and spacious gallery, with tall ceilings and a beautiful, immaculate, deep pile lime green rug on a dark, highly polished wood floor. The rug was untrammeled and spotless -- except for a nice, medium sized well-formed, solid dog dump -- evidently fairly fresh (I’m assuming) right square in the middle.
![]() | ![]() | | Lilly at home with her signature fabrics and designs, and in her Palm Beach shop. | ![]() | ![]() |
Lilly wasn’t home at the time, so how could she know – and with the exception of Fido’s natural body functions, the house was impeccable. Nevertheless, as inconvenient as it sounds, I’ve always had the feeling ever since that the matter wouldn’t have fazed the dog’s owner for a minute.
Kathy gave us a tour of the “divine” kitchen which was large, with a family room quality (this was a new idea back then) with a big, comfy, slip-covered sofa where Lilly’s guests and kids and friends could sit and talk to her while she worked in the kitchen.
Everything about this welcoming and elegant house was en famille and intime. You liked the owner the same way you liked the designer whose clothes you wore. There was a bright, cheerful quality that had more than a wisp of wisdom to it.
My third memory about the visit to Lilly (and Peter) Pulitzer’s new house was when we were being shown the bedrooms on the second floor. As we were walking into the master, a bronze, rattan and tortoiseshell-ish room with a large queen-sized canopied bed on which a completely nude woman with blonde hair was napping deeply. She was out. Coming upon this horizontally statuesque figure was such a surprise -- the door had been left wide open, so there was no hint of someone being inside -- that we all just looked at her for a moment, and then left the room. Good idea, no?
I’m laughing now when I think of that strangely awkward moment, which the lady probably never knew about. Laid out flat, arms at her side, entirely naked. She may have just come from the pool and a shower. She was a houseguest. Her name was Peggy Bedford Bancroft d’Arenberg D’Uzes, a well known international heiress and socialite, and contemporary of Lilly and Peter Pulitzer. It also never occurred to us that we were not expected, strange as that may seem. |
|
