
Back when I worked for Louis Vuitton, I often heard the story about the famous French opera star, Lily Pons. While the name was unfamiliar to me, apparently Lily Pons was one of the biggest stars in France between the World Wars, singing in operas throughout Europe and the World. Pons was also an excellent Vuitton customer during her heyday, and one of her most famous creations was her custom shoe trunk.
Coming in at just 5 feet tall, Pons had incredibly tiny, slender feet. Therefore, in a trunk that would usually hold 30 pairs of standard-sized shoes, the expert craftsmen at Vuitton were easily able to fit 36 pairs of Lily Pons' shoes.
While the Louis Vuitton book by Paul-Gerard Pasols from 2005 omitted this legend of the Vuitton lexicon, the latest tome, Louis Vuitton: 100 Legendary Trunks, remedies this with a few spreads devoted to Pons and her trunk. I came back to it this week after finally seeing Lily Pons in one of her few Hollywood films that played on Turner Classic Movies this week.
That Girl from Paris was one of only three star vehicles given to Pons in the 1930s, when she was at her peak of talent, beauty, and style. (Pons was frequently interviewed by fashion and ladies' magazines to provide her take on Parisian chic, home decor, clothing, and beauty regimens. In fact, it is said that Pons was so media-savvy that she even served as the celebrity face for a number of consumer products, including Knox Gelatine, Libby tomato juice, and Lockheed Aircraft.) It isn't an amazing film, but it is rather funny. Pons plays an opera star (surprise surprise), who stows away on a ship to New York City in order to get away from her controlling impresario. Even though she's the one in trouble, she's plucky, charming, and even maintains her diva status in order to come out ahead.

Original French poster for "Adieu Paris, Bonjour New York" or That Girl from Paris. From Intemporel-Paris.
The leading man is the handsome Gene Raymond, who plays Windy McLean - the head of a hot jazz quartet which also features the dancing talents of one Clair Williams, played by Lucille Ball. Clair and Windy had a thing until that girl from Paris came along...but I'm sure you saw that coming.

Lucille Ball, Gene Raymond (left) and Lily Pons (far right), flank Jack Oakie, Herman Bing, & Mischa Auer in That Girl from Paris, RKO Pictures, 1936.
At any rate, I was so happy to finally get to see Pons in action. Her vocal talent (Pons was one of the finest coloratura sopranos of her era) was a great mix against the jazz theme, but it did feel a bit like Irene Dunne singing those oddly-placed big arias in Roberta. But I was entertained.
Going back to the history of the shoe trunk, I found the following particularly interesting:
"In her private life she was a delightful person with a reputation for having very sure taste in matters of elegance. Hats, jewels, furs, clothes, accessories, makeup: her whole wardrobe was closely examined in women's magazines as well as movie magazines. Lily Pons was a star on a grand footing. Yet nature had endowed her with some of the tiniest feet in Paris. In 1949 Gaston-Louis Vuitton recalled: "Lily Pons ordered a desk trunk for shoes in 1925..." It has thirty-six drawers, padded and lebeled just like the original model for thirty pairs. There were also two compartments for silk stockings... Each drawer was like a regular shoebox, with trees and silky bags intended to safely carry pumps with straps, mules, plain pumps, flat shoes, or sandals... Every fashion and luxury magazine from Vogue to Harper's Bazaar, from Fémina to Town & Country, feature the shoe trunk as the absolute symbol of Parisian chic and the requisite travel accessory of every Parisian woman."


Pages from Louis Vuitton: 100 Legendary Trunks. The bottom features an advertisement from Vogue in 1923, saying "Even when traveling, Parisian women like to stay chic."
And Lily Pons? Although she continued to tour the world, she became a naturalized American citizen in 1940. She drew over 300,000 fans to Chicago's Grant Park for a performance in 1939, and during World War II she toured with the USO to entertain troops. She continued to guest-star at New York's Metropolitan Opera until 1960. In 1962, she gave her final opera performance in Ft. Worth, Texas in her quintessential role: Lucia from Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor. Her co-star? A 21-year old Pacido Domingo. She continued to sing until 1973, and died in Dallas, Texas in 1976.