June 2016

There’s a magical garden in the heart of Marrakesh.  The Majorelle Gardens.

This is the spot in Marrakesh where Jacques Majorelle, a French painter, moved to in 1919 and created the gardens for himself as an ideal painting place.  For years after the painter’s death, this 12-acre botanical retreat remained open for the public to enjoy the many varieties of cacti, tropical plants, handmade pottery, and koi-filled lily ponds.

However, in 1980, Yves Saint Laurent and his partner, Pierre Berge, purchased the gardens for the purpose of restoring them to their original glory. The largest building, formerly Majorelle’s workshop, now houses Saint Laurent’s and Berge’s personal collection of Islamic art and artifacts.  There is a also a small cafe open for breakfast.

I remember wandering in the gardens before they were closed for renovation.  And even in its faded beauty, Majorelle held a special charm.

The quietude and spell of nature surrounded by the hubbub of street hawkers, cars and donkey carts, and hordes of tourists was very unique indeed.

As it turns out, of all the colors in the garden, the boldest one became famous.  The largest studio, many of the shallow pools, and decorative mosaics all boast “bleu Majorelle” – named after the artist who made it so popular.

To my mind, the color is a deep drink of the Mediterranean…the wild-child version of periwinkle with an added electric shock!

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The New York Times style Magazine recently ran a fascinating article on Renzo Mongiardino.  If you don’t know this name, he was an Italian who became the decorating idol of the rich and famous in the 1970s and 80s.

I really resonate with his work because he is outrageous and fearless and, as the article describes him, “Employing lush romanticism and arcane classical references pulled from a magic bag of artificial effects, he enabled a certain sector of the very rich to make their own mark on the 20th century.”

Most of Mongiardino’s work lived in the grand houses of Europe and England, although he did design the occasional movie set, such as the one for Zeffirelli’s 1968 production of Romeo & Juliet and several opera sets for Minotti.  Lee Radziwill is the only American I can think of who had a Mongiardino-inspired home – and that was at Turville Grange outside of London.

This article, by Nancy Hass (photos by Simon Upton) is long and lush.  There are so many quotes that perfectly capture the Mongiardino mood – indulge me here again.  For him (Renzo) the past was fluid; historical periods and literary allusions were meant to flow together as gracefully as the Tiber.  His glamourous rooms, weeping with emotion, were always, as his friend Umberto Pasti wrote, dusted with ‘the corrosive breath of melancholy.’ “

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