Carine Remembers Azzedine Alaïa

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When she was a little girl, my daughter Julia asked Azzedine Alaïa to design dresses for her Barbies and My Little Ponies. Such was the closeness of our friendship over 35 years, which of course makes me deeply sad to be thinking and writing about what he meant to me and my family and to the fashion world over the last four decades.

Azzedine never cared much for hierarchies. When I was a young stylist, he was incredibly generous with gifts—more generous that he ever needed to be. But he was equally as generous with the assistants as he was with the editors-in-chief. This generosity extended beyond just clothes, like the support he gave to a young John Galliano, allowing him to work and show in his private space.

For Alaïa, fashion was about family—and he was the grand-père, famously cooking dinner each night for his dear friends in the kitchen of his atelier. He never took a seat at the table, he would just circle it, checking that everyone’s plates and glasses were not empty. He was an amazing storyteller with a deep memory and a fantastic sense of humor, but he would never speak of himself. Azzedine was modest beyond belief—a feat for such a legend. (I always think it’s the greatest talents who are the most modest.)

A couture fitting with Azzedine was an experience. He made you feel like a star because he did all of the work himself, pinning each fold carefully along your curves. He’s one of the few designers I know who could realize an entire dress or jacket himself. He did it because he loved women, and he loved listening to them—learning their loves and likes and dislikes. This is what made him so good at what he did. He understood women so keenly and loved them so sincerely. You felt that love in every single piece. This was the magic of Azzedine.

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