Reading up on CBK 25 years too late

My melancholic feelings after finishing the biography by Elizabeth Beller, 'Once Upon A Time'.

After finishing my latest low-brow Kindle Unlimited romcom last week (more rom than com), I decided I needed something of sustenance.

I headed to McNally Jackson in SoHo with intentions of finding something that fell into my usual reading preferences: almost exclusively by female writers, a story where something terrible happens to the female protagonist, the protagonist usually goes through some sort of male-induced revelation, and in the end, I’m left feeling slightly unsettled. Some of my favorite books that fall into this category are My Year of Rest and Relaxation, Three Women, New Animal, and Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine.

I feel comfortable admitting that I judge books by their covers. My books double as decor, and I like to have ones that look nice. If one has an ugly cover, I’ll download it on my Kindle. My eye was immediately caught by a black and white photograph of Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, propped up against a tiny easel on the new arrivals table. I went home with Elizabeth Beller’s new biography about CBK titled Once Upon A Time: The Captivating Life of Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, released in May of this year.

Reading a biography makes me feel like an intellectual. The font is very small and there are always so many pages. My favorite part when I was younger was always the chunk of glossy photos typically found in the middle, depicting a timeline of the subject’s life and visual references from stories told throughout the book. Sometimes they contain spoilers (even though I’m extremely against calling anything that happened historically a spoiler. Like if you’re watching a Netflix documentary and someone accidentally tells you what happened in the end, grow up. It’s on Google), so I try to restrain myself from immediately jumping there before even starting the first page. Even while reading Andy Cohen’s latest memoir, I felt extremely smart and better than. Same with Julia Fox’s.

I did not know the week after I bought the book was coincidentally the 25th year anniversary of the deaths of JFK Jr. and his wife, Carolyn. I was actually in the middle of reading it—I hadn’t even gotten to the photo gallery yet—when the commemorative articles and Instagram features started rolling in. It was very eerie. I’m not sure what drew me into purchasing it, but the timing was simultaneously sad and serendipitous. I was able to reflect in my own way about the characters that had consumed my nights, subway trips, and lunch breaks.

This story is Carolyn’s and Carolyn’s only, with Beller setting the intention from the first pages of righting any wrongs that the press told about her. She was not this drug-addicted, cheating, temperamental vixen they painted her to be every single day from 1996 until her untimely death in 1999. She was a compassionate friend, sister, and daughter, a close confidant of Calvin Klein and one of the main pieces of the puzzle that allowed them to dominate the 90s—smart, focused, and driven. She was more than just the inventor of modern day street style and sickening Yohji Yamamoto looks (we can definitely remember her for that, though).

I’ve, of course, always known about the Kennedy’s. My sister and I were U.S. History-obsessed growing up, but we were more focused on the lore of Jackie and John than anyone who came after that. I don’t think I even knew about the fate of JFK Jr. and CBK until recent years, and only then did I chalk them up to the ‘Kennedy Curse’.

Some of my favorite CBK looks.

Since learning so much about her, I often find myself thinking about Carolyn even when I’m not reading. Sorry to make some of you reading this feel old, but her and I were never alive at the same time. She passed just short of a year before I was born. My first real introduction to her besides the aesthetic outfit inspiration posts on my Instagram feed was from Carole Radziwill on RHONY. 

She was a character I loved learning about immensely. I was a little worried that I would lose steam considering the length and the fact that the books I have been reading recently are mind-numbingly easy, but from the beginning chapters of her childhood, college years, and entrance into New York City, I was hooked. After gaining insight to the woman that had associated with her infamous husband, I was entranced with who she was before him. One of my favorite things I learned was that she was also an East Village resident, and a lover of the neighborhood nonetheless. I felt a connection knowing that we were two Connecticut girls living out our early twenties within the same fifteen-block radius. I also loved hearing about her and her coworkers, what her and her friends were up to on a night in the 90s, and her dedication to making Calvin Klein one of the coolest brands of the times.

Carolyn’s chokehold on our generation is so fascinating to me. She’s obviously one of the—if not the, in my eyes—chicest woman to ever live, and a true tastemaker as seen in her work at Calvin. But she was so, painfully private. We don’t have any videos of her speaking formally or in an interview setting like some of our favorite celebrities from the 90s, she never did formal photoshoots, or any photoshoot at all for that matter, and all of the photos we have of her are from her paparazzi tormentors, often capturing her seeking shelter from them all across Lower Manhattan. For someone so recluse, she made such an immense impact.

This is the point that Beller made throughout her book all along. The less Carolyn gave during her too-short lifetime, the more people wanted. Rare glimpses into the life of an American prince and his bride were coveted. The reason why finishing this book was so sad for me was that I had nothing left to learn. Their story ended far too soon. She’s America’s Princess Diana, a parallel Beller also made.

Upon reflection, I wonder how Carolyn would react to being such a phenomenon to young Gen-Z fashion girlies. From what I learned about her, she would probably find it ridiculous. Her essence was all about not caring in the coolest way possible (something I’m incapable of achieving). I also wonder what she would think about her dear friend Carole being on RHONY.