Designer Hubert de Givenchy & Audrey Hepburn’s 42-year friendship began with “Sabrina” (1953). A professional relationship that could have stayed professional. A designer and an actress working together on a film. But it became something deeper. Something that lasted forty-two years. Something that transcended work and became family.
He created the “little black dress” for “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” The iconic dress. The one that defined a generation’s understanding of elegance. The collaboration that made both of them legends. Hubert’s design genius and Audrey’s grace combining into something that outlasted both of them.
As Audrey was dying of cancer (1993), she gifted him a coat: “If you ever feel sad… put it on… I, Audrey, am hugging you.” Not a casual gift. Not something grabbed last minute. But a deliberate, profound gesture from someone who knew she was dying and wanted to leave something behind that would provide comfort when she couldn’t.
If you ever feel sad… put it on… I, Audrey, am hugging you. Read that again. Feel the weight of it. A woman dying of cancer, thinking not about herself but about the grief her friend would carry. Thinking about how to comfort him when she was gone. Finding a way to leave her presence behind in fabric form.
He retired in 1995, unable to work without her. Two years after her death. Two years of trying to continue. Two years of designing without his muse, without his friend, without the person who’d understood his work and embodied it for forty-two years. And he couldn’t. The work was too connected to her. The loss too profound. So he retired.
Unable to work without her. That’s not about professional partnership. That’s about losing the person who made the work meaningful. Forty-two years of creating for someone, with someone, inspired by someone. And when she died, the purpose died with her.
Designer Hubert de Givenchy & Audrey Hepburn’s 42-year friendship began with “Sabrina.” But it became something that transcended professional boundaries. They were family. Soulmates in the creative sense. Two people who understood each other’s artistry and elevated it through collaboration.
He created the “little black dress” for “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” That dress is still iconic. Still referenced. Still the standard for elegance. It was his design, but it was her wearing it that made it immortal. The collaboration. The way her grace embodied his vision. The way his design showcased her beauty.
As Audrey was dying of cancer, she thought about him. About how he would grieve. About what comfort she could offer from beyond death. And she chose a coat. Something he could physically put on. Something that would surround him. Something that would feel like her arms around him when her actual arms couldn’t be.
“If you ever feel sad… put it on… I, Audrey, am hugging you.” The coat as proxy. As continued presence. As the physical manifestation of love that survives death. Every time he felt sad—and he must have felt sad constantly after losing her—he could put on that coat and feel her hug him.
He retired in 1995, unable to work without her. The fashion world lost one of its greatest designers because he couldn’t continue creating without the woman who’d been his muse and friend for forty-two years. The work was too intertwined with her. The process too connected to their collaboration. He couldn’t design without thinking of her. And thinking of her was too painful. So he stopped.
The photograph shows them together—Hubert in white, Audrey in black, his hand on her shoulder, both of them comfortable in each other’s presence. The ease of a forty-two-year friendship. The familiarity of people who know each other’s rhythms. The love that transcends romance and becomes something equally profound.
Forty-two years. That’s most of a lifetime. From 1953 to her death in 1993. Forty-two years of friendship, collaboration, mutual respect, and love. Forty-two years of him designing for her and her bringing his designs to life. Forty-two years of creating magic together.
And when she knew she was dying, she thought about his grief. About how empty the world would feel without her. About how he would need comfort when she couldn’t provide it anymore. So she gave him a coat and told him: put it on when you’re sad. I’ll be hugging you.
He retired unable to work without her. Because how do you design when your muse is gone? How do you create when the person who understood your vision, who embodied it perfectly, who made your work meaningful, is dead? You can’t. Or Hubert couldn’t. So he stopped. Retired. Stepped away from the work that had defined him because continuing without Audrey was impossible.
If you ever feel sad… put it on… I, Audrey, am hugging you. That’s love. That’s understanding. That’s a dying woman using her last strength to provide comfort for the grief she knows is coming. The coat wasn’t just fabric. It was her arms. Her presence. Her love continuing beyond death.