Posted on May 13, 2014 by Clara G

There are very few pictures of Marilyn where she looks real, a real woman. But some months before her dead in August, 1962, she began to be more natural, to reveal herself a little bit beyond her fabulous hairdressing, all the make up and even the clothes. Don’t know if it was a sign of maturity and self-acceptance, or simply because of publicity reasons, knowing her as I do, I don’t think it was casual. That last Marilyn, with her fading beauty, her white hair a little damaged, very thin, wearing Pucci dresses and Ferragamo stilettos, is the one I adore.

It was June, 1962, at the sunset, It was cold on Santa Monica beach, Marilyn was 36, she was wearing a wool jacket with an orange bikini underneath, her hair was a mess, her make up too, she was tired after a long photo shooting, drinking too much champagne. Empty eyes, childish laughing, spots in her nose. It was January, 2009, at night, it was cold in Madrid. I was 35, my kid was a little baby, my husband gave me a present: a big Balenciaga white box, inside there was a wool jacket.

There is no apparently connection between the architectural clothes designed by Nicolas Ghesquière for Balenciaga that year and the wool jacket bought 47 years before in Sacks, but whenever I wear it, and I do it very often, it reminds me that iconic photo shot: for me Marilyn is always there, wearing that jacket that I know she loved. She was just laughing and dreaming at the sea side.