A Slim Aarons photograph is unmistakable. His images depicting the privileged lifestyles of the 20th century gilded age have endured far beyond the magazine stories for which they were originally commissioned—a shorthand for the good life. From November 15 through January 26, the Ann Norton Sculpture Gardens will show dozens of the photographer’s celebrated images, as well as some never before seen from his archive, in Slim Aarons: Gold Coast. Ahead of the opening, Aarons’s daughter and former assistant, Mary, and the exhibition’s curator Shawn Waldron discuss the photographer’s vision of Palm Beach, his friendship with Lilly Pulitzer, and his enduring legacy.
Slim Aarons took a lot of photos in Palm Beach over the years—how did you choose what would be in this exhibition?
SHAWN WALDRON: I counted up 16 magazine stories that he did that I saw that were published, starting in 1954, and the last one was in 1991. It was a long stretch that he [would return to Palm Beach] pretty often. I wanted to have a real snapshot of the time. It does tend to skew more towards the earlier 1950s and ‘60s material, but I really wanted to represent the classic Palm Beach. There’s some sports and polo, there’s obviously great pool shots and the beach, but there’s also Worth Avenue, there’s society and galas and things like that. It encapsulates all the different areas that Slim would routinely cover while he was on assignment.
Is there anything that particularly stands out about his Palm Beach images?
SW: I think he made some of his most iconic pictures there. The C.Z. Guest [photo at Villa Artemis] in particular. It was about relationships—you see the consistency as he [returned]. Sometimes he would shoot the same people over and over, and you can see the relationships build. Maybe it starts out on the street, but then a few years later, he is actually in their homes.
MARY AARONS: I think he would also see those same people someplace else. Be it New York, Newport, Palm Springs, Europe. Their relationships weren’t confined to the times he was there for a story.
How do you think the Palm Beach of that time might compare with that of today?
SW: Every place is constantly reinventing itself. There’s a great photo from I think 1964 [taken while Slim was on assignment for Town & Country], and it’s [a photo of Mrs. A. Atwater Kent] crossing the street wearing her Lilly Pulitzer, and she’s barefoot. The text of the story says—they’re all up in arms—that, This new generation, they walk around barefoot! That was the height of rebellion then, but it was also greeted by locals as: Oh, it’s a nice fresh perspective and it gives some youthful energy that the place is lacking. I think that you’re having similar things happening now. The pandemic drove a lot of people out of New York, who relocated [to Palm Beach]. You’re seeing families staying year-round and settling there now. I think it’s definitely undergoing a little bit of a renaissance or rebirth.
Do you have any favorite images from this exhibition?
SW: Earlier this year, I went over to London, where the archive is, and did a lot of digging. There’s still so much material that hasn’t been seen in the archives—we pulled out some really good ones.
MA: There’s also the Petite Marmite pictures—that was a favorite place of his [in Palm Beach]. They had a mustard sauce that was his favorite thing. We would bring back bottles of it. Obviously, some of my favorite pictures are the Lilly [Pulitzer] pictures because they spoke to me personally, as a Lilly fan and Lilly wearer.
SW: There’s a whole section of Lilly in the show because there’s a strong connection there. We do a whole special gallery.
How did Slim and Lilly meet, and what was their relationship like?
MA: Lilly’s ex-husband Peter Pulitzer’s sister, Patsy Pulitzer Preston, was one of our very good family friends in Bedford, New York. When we were in Palm Beach, I was just a tag-along kid, if I was included at all. My mom—I know they were all of the same age—I don’t think they were close friends, but social friends who would eat together. They knew each other socially, they knew each other professionally. Their careers were on the same trajectory at the same time. The picture of the women in the circle in the [Lilly Pulitzer] shifts is an iconic picture—it was certainly an important picture for my dad, and I think helped the visibility of Lilly’s dresses. I know I loved wearing mommy-and-me versions of the Lilly Pulitzer shifts. My mother did not like mommy-and-me, but we had many matching ones; she didn’t like us to wear them at the same time, but I did. I can remember vividly what each one of them looked like.
SW: In the archive, I found a picture that hadn’t been seen before, where Lilly’s actually in the circle. She joined the group. It looks like he must have convinced her to join for one shot, and then she quickly exited. [Laughs.]
MA: I know my dad loved the history of Lilly, the founding of her company, the inspiration for her line. She was self-made. There weren’t a lot of women off of 7th Avenue who were doing that kind of thing, and she was doing it in a totally different venue. I know my mother was really impressed, and I’m sure my dad was, too. She was just fun to be around.
Why do you think Slim’s photos continue to resonate all these years later?
MA: I look at them and I can’t believe that they’re not contemporary. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Is contemporary fashion modeled after him, or is it just a matter of fact that the fashion and the looks in his photos look contemporary? The color still looks vivid. The people don’t look dated. I think he was trying not to ever photograph or promote fads. Everything was classic. Jumping on a trend is going to date you later on. You’re going to look back and go, My God, what did they wear in the ’70s? If you’re dressing in the classics and acting in a classic way, it endures.
SW: It’s an incredibly appealing lifestyle. It looks just so relaxed and unfiltered and fun, and people are just being themselves. It feels like an authentic moment. It’s not heavily stylized. It’s people wearing what they were wearing in their own homes, or at a hotel or resort where they were staying. They’re not flying people in. None of it is staged.
MA: There’s nothing flashy or artificial. It’s people in the wild. It’s all in situ, in their element.
SW: I think that feeling comes through. You can see that people are very visual now. People can smell when something has been staged; they’re quite cynical. There’s nothing cynical about these pictures. I think that that’s what makes them still seem refreshing.
MA: My dad would be 108 years old this October. If one believes that our loved ones are still watching over us and are aware of what’s going on, he would be absolutely gobsmacked. He would be amazed that his legacy, the body of work, endures. He’d say, How do those young people know about me? How do those people from all over the world know about me? Who’s buying this stuff? Then he’d be really proud that the children of the people who were photographed show up [to the exhibitions], and that some of the people in the photographs are still alive and bringing their daughter or their niece. He’s a hashtag, he’s an adjective, and all that would amaze him and make him incredibly proud of what he did.
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