Vicky Tiel started as an “it” girl of the 1960s and has had a four decade career designing clothes that make real women look fabulous.  Her sexy, fresh hot pants and miniskirts were used by Woody Allen in his first movie, What’s New, Pussycat?, her classic design inspired the red dress that transformed Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, and her creations are worn today by stars such as Halle Berry and Kim Kardashian.  Tiel’s own life has been dance-the-night-away fun, from her earliest days flunking out of Parsons to design on her own, to starting a chic boutique with best friend Mia Fonssagrives in Paris, from marrying MGM’s top make-up man to becoming Elizabeth Taylor’s dear friend and part of her longtime entourage.  Tiel forged her own path, and picked up some distinctive and hard-earned lessons from the rich, famous and celebrated along the way.

In IT’S ALL ABOUT THE DRESS, you’ll get a glimpse of what it’s like to be Hollywood royalty (think yachts, tiny dogs, giant pearls and peanut butter sandwiches washed down with Chateau Margaux), discover the seduction secrets of the greats (from Kim Novak to Goldie Hawn to Warren Beatty), take in a little husband-hunting advice, and even learn legendary model Dorian Leigh’s recipe for gigot d’agneau sept heures.

Vicky Tiel will teach you to dress like a sex symbol , cook like the owner of a French country inn, and seize what you want from the world like an American ingénue.

VICKY TIEL began designing clothes forty years ago in Paris and still owns a boutique there. Her custom couture dresses are sold in Bergdorf Goodman and Neiman Marcus.  Her line of cocktail dresses and special occasion wear is sold through department stores nationwide. She lives in northern Florida near Alabama, and in Paris, France.

Vicky Tiel? Isn’t she dead yet?” The beautiful, slim young woman pointed to the sign in Bergdorf Goodman’s couture salon. She and her friend stopped briefly to inspect a Vicky Tiel gown on display. They didn’t seem to notice me, the designer, sitting nearby. In my white lace peasant dress and gold platform sandals, I probably looked like another customer. Some designers might have been embarrassed or angry, but not me. I knew that being “undercover” could be instructive.

“I wore her pleated lavender lamé dress to my junior high prom,” said the woman in the pale pink suit.

Her friend chimed in, “I wanted to wear her strapless lace empire gown for my wedding but my mom vetoed it. She reminded me that Grandma was buried in a Vicky Tiel ‘Pretty Woman’ Goddess dress.”

I had to smile. The old lady probably wanted to go out looking her best, I thought, but kept quiet. It wasn’t the first time someone was ready to write me off. After forty years in this business, I’ve developed a fairly thick skin.

I thought back to the early sixties, when I was a student at Parsons and the head of the school told me that I had no future in the commercial fashion world of Seventh Avenue.

In my time, I’ve been thrown off movie sets by Mike Nichols and John Frankenheimer, snubbed (and then approved) by Coco Chanel, and arrested in the Middle East and then again in Pigalle. I’ve been kicked off an airplane for being “inappropriately” dressed, sucked out a helicopter door and pulled back in by Elizabeth Taylor, had my nude body printed on matchbook covers, then been banned by the French government. I’ve had some wild ups and some spectacular downs, and I’ve managed to survive through it all.

Surviving is what I do best. More than thirty years ago, my own survival—my very life—was literally at risk.

It was back in 1974, off the coast of Palermo, Sicily. I Read Less