HALSTON, 1932-1990

In Memoriam

In a city where memorial services, unfortunately, are evolving into an art form, the "Memorial Celebration for Halston" had a style all its own, just as he did. Organized by Liza Minnelli, it was held in Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center, instead of in a church, and in lieu of an altar there was a maroon lacquer table from Halston's Olympic Tower office bearing his signature orchids and votive candles. President Bush sent a long letter, Mayor Dinkins graced the event with his presence, and New York's police commissioner and District Attorney Robert Morgenthau presented Halston's family with a plaque for police uniforms he designed in the seventies. "He was a strange, gentle, fierce man—fierce for the best," said Martha Graham, and the crowd rose in an ovation. They also applauded the superbly edited videos of Halston's life and work.

Indeed, it was all as glamorous—and as American—as his cashmere sweater sets, Ultrasuede slacks, and sequined sheaths. His onetime competitor Calvin Klein told the TV cameras, "Halston was the greatest American designer who ever lived." The owner of The Washington Post, Katharine Graham, said that Halston always advised her "to wear a soothing pink, if I thought a meeting might erupt in tension." She called him "one of the first victims of corporate takeovers." The man who engineered Halston's takeover, former Norton Simon chairman David Mahoney, explained why the designer had agreed to a deal with J. C. Penney: "He wanted to dress Middle America." When Roy Halston Frowick was eight, his brother Robert recalled, he won a gold medal for being "the healthiest boy in Iowa." He also recalled Halston's last outings, in San Francisco, sitting in his new Rolls-Royce, driving through the redwoods. What could be more American— and more glamorous—than that?

BOB COLACELLO