At one point eight three metres tall with lanky body, white-blond hair and gaunt features, Betty Catroux casts a striking figure. The fact that she has stuck to the same uniform for over fifty years – ‘le smoking’ black suit, black leather, and denim – and still manages to look chic is stylishly transgressive.

Loulou de la Falaise, Yves Saint Laurent, Betty Catroux by Guy Marineau, 1978

Born in 1945 in Rio, Brazil, her family moved to Paris when she was four. At sixteen Catroux went to work as a model for Chanel. In conversation with Sofia Tchkonia she explaines – “I didn’t like that catwalk thing you know. And we had to carry a number like the cows in the agriculture saloon. I hated it! I felt like a thing. A thing, not a person. So I stopped after two years. Then I did photos, just like that. I was not very fascinated but I wanted to earn money, to be independent and to go out all night, and then I was picked up by Saint Laurent in a nightclub and my life changed completely.”

Though she refused to model for Saint Laurent, she bacame one of his coterie of muses, travelling the world together, doing “crazy things,” not sleeping for days at a time. “He’s a genius,” she tells Tchkonia. “He understood his epoch so well, his times. He’s not a couture, he’s much more than that, he’s a great artist.” To the writer Marie-Dominique Lelièvre, Catroux said of Yves, the man, “Yves Saint Laurent didn’t have friends. He loved nobody. He was intimate with nobody.”

“In her way of being, of moving, of dressing, Betty invented modernity,”
Yves Saint Laurent

Catroux’s sartorial choices, built around classic easy to wear elegance, distinctly androgynous, wearable at any age, are interesting not because they must be compellingly copied. What’s interesting is her self-possession, how she has confidently and stylishly donned her chosen uniform over the decades, blissfully immune to the vagaries of changing fashion.