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The Unexpurgated Beaton
Although in his lifetime Cecil Beaton - royal photographer and theatrical designer - published six short volumes of his diaries, he was shy of hurting the feelings of those he wrote about. Hugo Vickers has gone back to the originals to produce the Beaton diaries as they were written. Beaton records a vigorous social life among hostesses such as Emerald Cunard and Sybil Colefax, performers including Audrey Hepburn, Katharine Hepburn and Marlene Dietrich, as well as artists from Cocteau and Picasso to Bacon and the young Hockney. Running through the diaries are his friendships with the Queen Mother, with Diana Cooper and Greta Garbo. In the unexpurgated edition Vickers shows what Beaton really had to say about those with whom he worked. He could be waspish, even brutal. His diaries are frank and uninhibited.
448 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2002
About the author
Hugo Vickers
52 books64 followersHugo Vickers is a writer and broadcaster, who has written biographies of many twentieth century figures, including the Queen Mother, Gladys, Duchess of Marlborough, Cecil Beaton, Vivien Leigh, a study of Greta Garbo, Alice, Princess Andrew of Greece, and his book, The Private World of The Duke and Duchess of Windsor was illustrated with pictures from their own collection. Mr Vickers’s book, The Kiss: The Story of an Obsession won the 1996 Stern Silver Pen Award for Non-Fiction.
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Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
November 5, 2013
I was reminded of this book today when a reference was made to Cecil Beaton in Paul's review of Serious Pleasures: the Life of Stephen Tennant.
Pre-Goodreads I tended to read (I still do) biographies/letters and diaries and I was delighted to come across this particular work.
This book is rather incredible as it comprises the unexpurgated diaries of Beaton. He was so flamboyant and these diaries cover the 1970's through to his death in January 1980 and they are a joy to read. They are highly personal, even though he was known to "touch them up" from time to time. The saddest part is when his cat, Timothy, whom he had loved for seventeen years had to be put to sleep. Beaton died a week later.
The anecdotes are a joy to read. Here's just one example from the end of March 1973:
"The Queen Mother, so naturally affected, was mincing out of the dining room at a dinner at Lady Doris Vyner’s (second daughter of the eighth Duke of Richmond) when the hostess whispered it would be so marvellous if the Queen would say a few words to the woman who had been responsible for the repast they had all enjoyed. So the Queen with fingers of one hand touching her ample bosom said to the good woman, ‘How lovely to be a cook!’ ”
Somewhat trite I know but enjoyable to read.
Who didn't this "royal and society photographer, theatre and film designer" know? They came from all levels of society; royal members, aristocrats, actors, etc. The list is endless.
The photography is brilliant. The diaries are studded with such diverse individuals including Lady Diana Cooper, the Duchess of Windsor, Bianca Jagger, Elizabeth Taylor, Katherine Hepburn, etc.
I highly recommend this book and now I must put it down immediately as I’m starting to browse and I have work to do.
Pre-Goodreads I tended to read (I still do) biographies/letters and diaries and I was delighted to come across this particular work.
This book is rather incredible as it comprises the unexpurgated diaries of Beaton. He was so flamboyant and these diaries cover the 1970's through to his death in January 1980 and they are a joy to read. They are highly personal, even though he was known to "touch them up" from time to time. The saddest part is when his cat, Timothy, whom he had loved for seventeen years had to be put to sleep. Beaton died a week later.
The anecdotes are a joy to read. Here's just one example from the end of March 1973:
"The Queen Mother, so naturally affected, was mincing out of the dining room at a dinner at Lady Doris Vyner’s (second daughter of the eighth Duke of Richmond) when the hostess whispered it would be so marvellous if the Queen would say a few words to the woman who had been responsible for the repast they had all enjoyed. So the Queen with fingers of one hand touching her ample bosom said to the good woman, ‘How lovely to be a cook!’ ”
Somewhat trite I know but enjoyable to read.
Who didn't this "royal and society photographer, theatre and film designer" know? They came from all levels of society; royal members, aristocrats, actors, etc. The list is endless.
The photography is brilliant. The diaries are studded with such diverse individuals including Lady Diana Cooper, the Duchess of Windsor, Bianca Jagger, Elizabeth Taylor, Katherine Hepburn, etc.
I highly recommend this book and now I must put it down immediately as I’m starting to browse and I have work to do.
January 14, 2009
I bought this book on a whim, because the cover was pink and covered with interesting celebrities (Capote! Warhol! Dali! Oh my!), and because it promised to be “scathing, scandalous and compulsively readable!” And it kind of was. It was certainly compulsively readable, in the sense that I kept thinking that I was sort of bored by large chunks of the book, and yet I read the whole thing through. Spend two hours yesterday finishing it.
The book consists of the transcribed, (barely) annotated diary of Cecil Beaton from 1970 – 1980. Beaton was a famous photographer, set and costume designer (he designed the sets for My Fair Lady), writer, artist, etc. He was born to a (relatively) modest family in England, but by end of his life he hob-knobbed with the crème of society, up to and including the Royal family. He knew everyone – society – artists – royalty – everyone. And he wrote it all down, and some of it was just compulsively readable. He wrote wicked things about people, and incredibly moving things. I love gossip. I like reading about famous people. Some sections, such as the description of his sister's death, his version of the Duke of Windsor’s funeral, his stories of his travels to South America were extremely written and fascinating. I loved the stuff about the famous people - I was not particularly interesting in the stories relating to all his society friends, but otherwise, I generally enjoyed the book.
My complaint was that Hugo Vickers dropped the ball in his annotation. The book was littered with absolute unilluminating footnotes. He would refer to people's full name, and he would drop some line about some interesting relationship, or even worse, a scandal, and would not explain a thing. To truly enjoy the book you would need to know every single boring rich person who ever lived. It wouldn’t have killed the editor to give a little more, is what I am saying. I actually read another book by Vickers, a biography of Princess Alice of Greece (what can I say, sometime I like to read books that are well written but inherently trashy in subject matter), and it was pretty good. He didn’t assume that I knew every single royal family member – why should he assume I know all these rich fools (who are inherently less famous?)?
The book consists of the transcribed, (barely) annotated diary of Cecil Beaton from 1970 – 1980. Beaton was a famous photographer, set and costume designer (he designed the sets for My Fair Lady), writer, artist, etc. He was born to a (relatively) modest family in England, but by end of his life he hob-knobbed with the crème of society, up to and including the Royal family. He knew everyone – society – artists – royalty – everyone. And he wrote it all down, and some of it was just compulsively readable. He wrote wicked things about people, and incredibly moving things. I love gossip. I like reading about famous people. Some sections, such as the description of his sister's death, his version of the Duke of Windsor’s funeral, his stories of his travels to South America were extremely written and fascinating. I loved the stuff about the famous people - I was not particularly interesting in the stories relating to all his society friends, but otherwise, I generally enjoyed the book.
My complaint was that Hugo Vickers dropped the ball in his annotation. The book was littered with absolute unilluminating footnotes. He would refer to people's full name, and he would drop some line about some interesting relationship, or even worse, a scandal, and would not explain a thing. To truly enjoy the book you would need to know every single boring rich person who ever lived. It wouldn’t have killed the editor to give a little more, is what I am saying. I actually read another book by Vickers, a biography of Princess Alice of Greece (what can I say, sometime I like to read books that are well written but inherently trashy in subject matter), and it was pretty good. He didn’t assume that I knew every single royal family member – why should he assume I know all these rich fools (who are inherently less famous?)?
September 27, 2017
Without meaning to, this collection made me so sad. On the back of the book, the blurb says teasingly, "The list of people Cecil Beaton photographed reads like a 'Who's Who' of the haute monde. But beneath the glamour and the social snobbery, what did he really think????" (extra punctuation my own addition) What I really gleaned from this was that Cecil Beaton was an incredibly lonely person who was afraid of aging and had no real confidantes. First of all, the "who's who" was really fun and fluffy--he accused Katharine Hepburn of having "rocking horse nostrils," Marlene Dietrich of being a tired has-been, Diana Vreeland of being old and ugly, badmouths the Mitford sisters, various members of the royal family and second rate earls, and describes his various feuds with Evelyn Waugh and Diana Cooper, among others. He rips into aging socialites about their "reddish complexions" and calls them "danish-pastry trophy wives." He was really the cattiest. And he did know everyone. The amount of name dropping he did in his own diary was astonishing. This is your diary, Cecil--who you trying to impress?
This also reminded me of the documentary about Bill Cunningham and the podcast interview with Tim Gunn (both fantastic pieces of media, go check em out.) All three men were gay, taste makers, and hobnobbers but they live these very solitary lives with not a lot of close personal friends. You could hardly call Cecil's social circle "friends." He talks too much shit about them. The best you can get out of this guy is begrudging respect. Yes Greta Garbo USED to be talented. He never dwells on his loneliness of course, but you can read it in between the laundry list of who else attended the theater that night. He mentions romantic relationships only a few times. He and Kin, who lived in San Francisco, could never really be together for a million reasons. He doesn't really dwell on that either though. Just kind of wistfully remembers his time with him.
Oh my god, also his politics! He was so conservative! It's always a shock to read about a conservative gay man. He got in trouble for an anti-semitic cartoon he drew in Vogue and was blackballed for a while (before letting him back in with almost no consequences.) He was super anti-union and thought that all of Billy Elliot's striking miner cousins were just rabble rousers who were disrespecting the crown.
In finishing this book* I was plunged into a deep sadness. He has a stroke in the last year of his life, continues the diary half-assedly and then shortly after putting down his beloved cat Timothy, dies himself. But not before getting in one last jab at an aristocratic friend.
*(which by the way should have been a little expurgated, editor. Did not need every single entry about every single society function at the umpteenth Earl of Grantham's estate)
This also reminded me of the documentary about Bill Cunningham and the podcast interview with Tim Gunn (both fantastic pieces of media, go check em out.) All three men were gay, taste makers, and hobnobbers but they live these very solitary lives with not a lot of close personal friends. You could hardly call Cecil's social circle "friends." He talks too much shit about them. The best you can get out of this guy is begrudging respect. Yes Greta Garbo USED to be talented. He never dwells on his loneliness of course, but you can read it in between the laundry list of who else attended the theater that night. He mentions romantic relationships only a few times. He and Kin, who lived in San Francisco, could never really be together for a million reasons. He doesn't really dwell on that either though. Just kind of wistfully remembers his time with him.
Oh my god, also his politics! He was so conservative! It's always a shock to read about a conservative gay man. He got in trouble for an anti-semitic cartoon he drew in Vogue and was blackballed for a while (before letting him back in with almost no consequences.) He was super anti-union and thought that all of Billy Elliot's striking miner cousins were just rabble rousers who were disrespecting the crown.
In finishing this book* I was plunged into a deep sadness. He has a stroke in the last year of his life, continues the diary half-assedly and then shortly after putting down his beloved cat Timothy, dies himself. But not before getting in one last jab at an aristocratic friend.
*(which by the way should have been a little expurgated, editor. Did not need every single entry about every single society function at the umpteenth Earl of Grantham's estate)
August 27, 2018
There isn’t much to add to what I wrote on the earlier diaries. The writing is still good, the interest is patchy in that the people he meets, his friends and acquaintances are sometimes interesting, sometimes tedious but most now forgotten unless you retain an interest in the seventies. The book is worth reading but it can only be dipped into.
August 22, 2014
Just what you'd imagine, only more so. A fashion and society photographer of extraordinary skill and reputation, Cecil Beaton during a substantial part of the 20th century was liable to pop up anywhere famous, important, and/or fabulously wealthy people gathered. Didn't he just talk about it,too!
As shown in these diaries, Beaton's cattiness exceeded the everyday by several orders of magnitude, and he frequently scratched the hand that fed him, at least in private. Those who were his targets were not merely skewered but charred to s crisp and slathered with barbecue sauce. Laurence Olivier was a talentless hack and Katherine Hepburn a monster with every possible thing wrong with her; various rich people had terrible taste and dressed horribly and were losing their looks and--even worse--were Americans. Luckily for the reader, many of the things Beaton says are absolutely hilarious. Some, though, are not, including several anti-Semitic comments, one of which--couched in a cartoon--got him fired from *Vogue*. His toadying up to royalty, too, particularly the Queen Mother, is rather sickening.
Speaking of sickening: what a hypochondriac! Readers get to learn everything they ever wanted to know--and much, more--about the mutable state of Beaton's bowels, his many headaches, the boil on the end of his nose,his ever-shrinking penis, etc. Ignobly, he also spilled the beans in *McCall's* (I think) about his affair with Greta Garbo--for him, a rare excursion to the other side of the sexual fence.
There was another, more appealing side to Beaton, though, and this too is on display in his diaries. He adored his house and garden and was childishly excited by the quotidian activities of trout and ducks on a pond he'd created. Surprisingly, he is shown to be something of a romantic, and his quest for love and connection--perhaps an old man's folly--is touching. He was also capable of loyalty to those he considered his friends, and even to some he didn't, like the Duke of Windsor, who, he claimed, never liked *him*.
A rather complicated man, Cecil Beaton. His diaries amply reward attention, and you may be able to steal some really good lines from him, too.
As shown in these diaries, Beaton's cattiness exceeded the everyday by several orders of magnitude, and he frequently scratched the hand that fed him, at least in private. Those who were his targets were not merely skewered but charred to s crisp and slathered with barbecue sauce. Laurence Olivier was a talentless hack and Katherine Hepburn a monster with every possible thing wrong with her; various rich people had terrible taste and dressed horribly and were losing their looks and--even worse--were Americans. Luckily for the reader, many of the things Beaton says are absolutely hilarious. Some, though, are not, including several anti-Semitic comments, one of which--couched in a cartoon--got him fired from *Vogue*. His toadying up to royalty, too, particularly the Queen Mother, is rather sickening.
Speaking of sickening: what a hypochondriac! Readers get to learn everything they ever wanted to know--and much, more--about the mutable state of Beaton's bowels, his many headaches, the boil on the end of his nose,his ever-shrinking penis, etc. Ignobly, he also spilled the beans in *McCall's* (I think) about his affair with Greta Garbo--for him, a rare excursion to the other side of the sexual fence.
There was another, more appealing side to Beaton, though, and this too is on display in his diaries. He adored his house and garden and was childishly excited by the quotidian activities of trout and ducks on a pond he'd created. Surprisingly, he is shown to be something of a romantic, and his quest for love and connection--perhaps an old man's folly--is touching. He was also capable of loyalty to those he considered his friends, and even to some he didn't, like the Duke of Windsor, who, he claimed, never liked *him*.
A rather complicated man, Cecil Beaton. His diaries amply reward attention, and you may be able to steal some really good lines from him, too.
August 19, 2023
Can never spend too much time looking at his life.
A twentieth-century photographer, artist, writer and designer for more than fifty years, Cecil Beaton was at the center of the worlds of fashion, society, theater and film. This book brings together for the first time the never-before-published diaries from 1970 to 1980 and, unlike the six slim volumes of diaries published during his lifetime, these have been left uniquely unedited. Hugo Vickers, the executor of Beaton’s estate and the author of his acclaimed biography, has added extensive notes that are as lively as the diary entries themselves.
Here is the photographer for British and American Vogue, designer of the sets and costumes for the play and film My Fair Lady and the film Gigi, with a cast of characters from many worlds, at shooting parties in the English countryside, on yachts, at garden parties at Buckingham Palace, at costume balls in Venice, Paris or London.
Beaton began as an outsider and “developed the power to observe, first with his nose pressed up against the glass,” and later from within inner circles. Vickers has said, “His eagle eye missed nothing.” The Unexpurgated Beaton is not only a great read and wicked fun, but also a timeless chronicle of our age.
Although in his lifetime Cecil Beaton - royal photographer and theatrical designer - published six short volumes of his diaries, he was shy of hurting the feelings of those he wrote about. Hugo Vickers has gone back to the originals to produce the Beaton diaries as they were written. Beaton records a vigorous social life among hostesses such as Emerald Cunard and Sybil Colefax, performers including Audrey Hepburn, Katharine Hepburn and Marlene Dietrich, as well as artists from Cocteau and Picasso to Bacon and the young Hockney. Running through the diaries are his friendships with the Queen Mother, with Diana Cooper and Greta Garbo. In the unexpurgated edition Vickers shows what Beaton really had to say about those with whom he worked. He could be waspish, even brutal. His diaries are frank and uninhibited.
A twentieth-century photographer, artist, writer and designer for more than fifty years, Cecil Beaton was at the center of the worlds of fashion, society, theater and film. This book brings together for the first time the never-before-published diaries from 1970 to 1980 and, unlike the six slim volumes of diaries published during his lifetime, these have been left uniquely unedited. Hugo Vickers, the executor of Beaton’s estate and the author of his acclaimed biography, has added extensive notes that are as lively as the diary entries themselves.
Here is the photographer for British and American Vogue, designer of the sets and costumes for the play and film My Fair Lady and the film Gigi, with a cast of characters from many worlds, at shooting parties in the English countryside, on yachts, at garden parties at Buckingham Palace, at costume balls in Venice, Paris or London.
Beaton began as an outsider and “developed the power to observe, first with his nose pressed up against the glass,” and later from within inner circles. Vickers has said, “His eagle eye missed nothing.” The Unexpurgated Beaton is not only a great read and wicked fun, but also a timeless chronicle of our age.
Although in his lifetime Cecil Beaton - royal photographer and theatrical designer - published six short volumes of his diaries, he was shy of hurting the feelings of those he wrote about. Hugo Vickers has gone back to the originals to produce the Beaton diaries as they were written. Beaton records a vigorous social life among hostesses such as Emerald Cunard and Sybil Colefax, performers including Audrey Hepburn, Katharine Hepburn and Marlene Dietrich, as well as artists from Cocteau and Picasso to Bacon and the young Hockney. Running through the diaries are his friendships with the Queen Mother, with Diana Cooper and Greta Garbo. In the unexpurgated edition Vickers shows what Beaton really had to say about those with whom he worked. He could be waspish, even brutal. His diaries are frank and uninhibited.
November 14, 2021
Only skimmed. A bitchy narrator but I don't know many of the people he writes about and don't entirely grasp the pleasure of reading someone's diary.
To give a sense of the gist, here is a portion of his portrait of Katherine Hepburn: " She is ugly. Her skin is revolting and since she does not apply enough makeup she appears pockmarked. In life her appearance is appalling, a raddled, rash-ridden, freckled, burnt, mottled, bleached and wizened piece of decaying matter. It is unbelievable, incredible that she can still be exhibited in public. She is suspicious [of me] and untrustworthy. She knows fundamentally that she has no great talent as an actress."
Here he is on the (seemingly eternal) Queen Mother Elizabeth: "I found her affectations a bit tiresome. She rather overworked the facial gestures as she showed surprise, wistful longing. She looked really rather plain too, in a colour that did nothing for her, and her face is fatter than ever, but yet wrinkled."
How would you like to have that observer in the room judging you?
To give a sense of the gist, here is a portion of his portrait of Katherine Hepburn: " She is ugly. Her skin is revolting and since she does not apply enough makeup she appears pockmarked. In life her appearance is appalling, a raddled, rash-ridden, freckled, burnt, mottled, bleached and wizened piece of decaying matter. It is unbelievable, incredible that she can still be exhibited in public. She is suspicious [of me] and untrustworthy. She knows fundamentally that she has no great talent as an actress."
Here he is on the (seemingly eternal) Queen Mother Elizabeth: "I found her affectations a bit tiresome. She rather overworked the facial gestures as she showed surprise, wistful longing. She looked really rather plain too, in a colour that did nothing for her, and her face is fatter than ever, but yet wrinkled."
How would you like to have that observer in the room judging you?
November 19, 2023
Really interesting diaries. A bit of a sad, snobby and lonely run up to the end of his life but so glad I picked this book up. Some brutally honest opinions on the royal family and some great name dropping 🤣
December 31, 2021
I did enjoy reading this though it is peopled with the sorting snobbish folk I dislike the most. Is it a bygone era or, as I suspect, still somewhere lurking.
April 5, 2025
I enjoyed this book very much
shelved
September 16, 2025Too pretentious…..shelvinggg
September 11, 2012
Sorry about this. He was talented --- the photographs and the costume designs for MY FAIR LADY alone demonstrate this beyond question. But the diaries are dreary to read, and poorly edited--- I think Hugo Vickers thought that he was being all sorts of smartypants in the cutting asides he frequently made in the notes identifying whoever Beaton is traducing --- but the end result is unrelieved tedium.
February 21, 2008
The worst book ever. It had its moments when he spoke of old school celebs I knew....but for the most part I couldn't muster up enough energy to even finish it.
August 24, 2010
As engaging and quick-witted as ever, slightly dampened by old age and decline of his friends, enemies and all those in between.
June 29, 2012
Not what I expected. Interesting cast of characters, but rather too discursive - not quite as advertised.
March 21, 2012
Wonderfully bitchy. CB's diaries are my guilty pleasure.
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November 27, 2018So much fun.
Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews