Fashion: The Vreeland Vogue

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Salt & Air. She was born and raised in Europe, where her father was a stockbroker, and her only training for her job was a schooling in the fashionable international life (she married Banker T. Reed Vreeland in 1924). "I had never THOUGHT of working," she explains, "and the only thing I knew was where to go to have my clothes made, so it seemed only NATURAL to go into fashion."

Vogue, she claims, has not changed since she took over. But the models look, to some, more noticeably feminine, the clothes distinctly more sexy, and the current issue's living-color portrait of a full-breasted, naked girl supine on a beach seems certainly new. To Dee-ann this is "simply an evocation of the FEELING of salt and air; MY GOD, you'd think people's lives would be so FULL they wouldn't even notice."

Still, Vogue and Vreeland are not about to endorse the bosom. Says Mrs. Vreeland: "Women should be thin. It's fit. It's the Middle Europeans who have always liked flesh. Probably in the Klondike it went rather big too. But think how much easier it is getting in and out of cabs without carting a big bust around, like a charwoman, in front of you." The look of the perfect woman? "First, she must be HEALTHY. Then there must be VANITY, do you know? In the best sense of the word. Next, physical, real physical vitality and stamina. After that, the selection of clothes comes rather naturally."

Perfume & Flowers. Dee-ann can tell in an instant, and does, loudly, what she thinks is fashion and what is not: "It's UTTERLY bad; it's COMPLETELY divine." Says Designer Stella Sloat: "She always picks the sleeper. She is the champion of the nothing look." She is credited with originating the craze for skinny pants, the sleeveless dress, turtlenecks, and the Italian haircut.

Her day begins at close to 8 o'clock, and for the next three hours, her office is at home. Small by Park Avenue standards (it has only two bedrooms, both Vreeland sons being married and away), it is as expansive as its owner, filled with a fastidious clutter of collections (sea shells, rare bits of glass and silver, tortoise-shell snuffboxes), stamped throughout with the special insignia of the impeccable Vreeland taste. Perfume is everywhere, and, for Deeann, flowers are the basic ingredient. They splash in 18 varieties, out of vases, off the wallpaper and sheets, all over her bedroom.

She has most of her dresses made ("I am NOT a shopper"). "Some little woman runs them up for her," says the very chic Mrs. William Paley, "and of course you wouldn't dream of asking her where the material came from." She has worn the same shoes for 30 years (specially designed T-strap sandals with round closed toes and square low heels), never wears any more of a hat than a snood. She rouges her ears, has a manicure, pedicure, massage and hairdo daily, drinks Mountain Valley Mineral Water with the gusto of an addict. When she stays in hotels, she takes along her own sheets and pillowcases (with bedjackets to match). "She must be happy," says the very elegant Mrs. Winston ("Ceezee") Guest, "because she's only been married once." Says Mrs. Vreeland: "I LOVE my life. It's DREAMY."