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It’s impossible to imagine a person’s absence when it seems, like Iris Apfel, that they were always here. Iris was a woman who understood the transformative and inspiring power of clothing, for herself and for those she encountered. If you knew her well, or observed her closely during quieter moments, the process behind her style was awe-inspiring yet deeply human. Maximalism wasn’t really part of Iris’s raison d’être. Her creative process was much more poetic and conceptual than simply piling on jewellery and bold garments for effect. Like her work as an interior decorator and textile designer, it was about connecting with people and showing them how to find joy in difference and curiosity. Iris loved young people, and they loved her in return. She didn’t preach; instead, she showed them how to creatively express themselves through the way they dressed, without losing their individuality. Much of her unpublicised work, particularly in the last 15 years of her life, involved mentoring and arranging internships for design students in high schools and colleges.
It occurred to me early on in our friendship, which began in 2005, that Iris was a woman who never said no to life. As a teenager, she would sneak off to Manhattan from her birthplace in Queens, New York. Her forays into Harlem, the Metropolitan Museum of Art and other parts of the city became an education for her in the appreciation of beauty, individuality and savoir-faire in the applied arts. It was also a great way for her to develop her eye, as well as her renowned bargaining skills, as demonstrated in Albert Maysles’s 2014 documentary Iris.
Iris worked throughout most of her life. From her career at Women’s Wear Daily to launching Old World Weavers, the textile firm she co-founded in 1950 with her husband Carl Apfel (the love of her life and partner-in-crime, who lived to the age of 100), Iris was a hard worker and a businesswoman with unrelenting drive. Even though she was very social, she always had a long list of creative deadlines and tasks. She continued working on a multitude of fashion, accessory and carpet-design collaborations and commissions until the end of her life. Turning the mundane into something coveted was her forte – privately and professionally. With her homes, her clothing and her personal style, nothing was ever a mishmash, nor based solely on value. Everything was an inspired, conscious juxtaposition of the fruits of almost a century of curiosity and interest in the world.
Over long transatlantic calls, or delicious home-cooked lunches or dinners when I was in New York (mostly just the two of us after Carl died in 2015), she would ask about what was going on in my life, tenderly inquire after my now-deceased father in Lagos (whom she referred to as “Daddy”) and, of course, update me on all her latest projects. The list was endless, and it meant a lot to me that she sought my opinion on many things. Worried about her health and unrelenting pace, I would often ask: “Iris, is it absolutely necessary to do this project?” She would reply, without hesitation: “Duro, I could use the dough.”
Iris was a visionary and a force of nature with a kind heart and boundless energy for everything creative. Museum visits with her were a treat, as were walks around Harlem, trawling through Golborne Road and Portobello Market in London, Vanves flea market in Paris, or hanging out in vintage shops such as Rellik in London and Marlene Wetherell in New York. We would often stop and smile at each other – a silent acknowledgment that although art and sublime handmade things are everywhere, it was up to us to leisurely and determinedly hunt them down. In the end, though, we don’t find them – they find us.
I am grateful that Iris found me. And glad for the inspiring place she had in the lives of so many others.