(Her “Why Don’t You?” column in Harper’s Bazaar, where she was an editor from 1936 until 1962, was collected as a book that came out in 2001, and is also well worth a look.) What one loves in Vreeland’s language is its drama. She spoke like an “action” painter paints: with great verve and focus before moving on.) From the time she became Vogue’s editor-in-chief, in 1962, until the magazine went in another direction, with Grace Mirabella, in 1971, Vreeland spent most mornings at home, dictating memos and letters to friends, employees, and contributors, ranging from Cecil Beaton to Truman Capote to Richard Avedon. (Of course, “D.V.” was about Vreeland’s language as well, but chronological narration, let alone memory, was not her strong point. “Memos” is a perfect companion volume to “Allure” because it’s about Vreeland’s eye and ear, as translated through her extraordinary language. The book feels like the autobiography that Vreeland left out of her completely entertaining but in no sense reliable 1984 memoir, “D.V.” I have always considered Vreeland’s 1980 book, “Allure”-a compilation of photographs and text about that very subject, all wrapped up in Vreeland’s own-as highly representative of what made Vreeland an editor like no one else. “Diana Vreeland Memos: The Vogue Years” has been sensitively edited by the iconic fashion editor’s grandson, Alexander Vreeland, with help from her great-grandson, Reed, and published by Rizzoli with its usual panache.

Diana vreeland memoir