hen President John Fitzgerald Kennedy and his beautiful, young wife moved into the White House, it was the beginning of a new era in American style. Handsome and photogenic, with adorable little children in tow, they provided a considerable contrast to the plain, aging Eisenhowers of the preceding administration. The newly refurbished Executive Mansion became the setting for glittering dinner parties featuring a stunning guest list of notables from the world of music, art and literature and feasting on fine cuisine prepared by French chefs. Princess Diana may have captured the hearts of her countrymen in the 1980’s, but in the ’60’s, Jackie was our queen.
We all know how the story unfolded. Majesty turned to tragedy by way of an assassin’s bullet. The magical era – named “Camelot” after the fact – was gone in an instant, even while the nation was still trying to realize the promise of that “one brief shining moment.”
Jackie Kennedy’s unique style comprised much of the Camelot mystique. Born into wealth and privilege – and as intelligent as she was beautiful – she was named “Deb of the Year,” won Vogue magazine’s coveted “Prix de Paris” writing award in 1951, and her marriage to dashing young Senator John F. Kennedy was the “Wedding of the Year.”
The Kennedys lived in many houses in their favorite neighborhood, Georgetown. They may have started out at 3321 Dent Place NW, but their most well-known home was 3307 N St. NW, which Jack bought for Jackie when daughter Caroline was born.

When Jackie became first lady, every fashionconscious American woman probably owned at least one sleeveless sheath dress and pillbox hat. Years later, in 2001, the Corcoran Gallery’s exhibition of her clothes would be one of the best attended shows in the museum’s history. During the Kennedys’ highly publicized tour of Europe, Jackie occupied the rightful place of a style icon: the forefront. In France, she was such a hit that the President wryly conceded that he was simply “the man who accompanied Jacqueline Kennedy to Paris.” Newspapers featured photos of Jackie with Charles De Gaulle, Pope John XXIII and Nikita Khrushchev.
In the nightmarish hours and days after her husband’s death, Jackie refused to take sleeping pills. She wanted to ensure that this last homage would be perfect. And it was: the beautiful, wide avenues of Washington provided a backdrop for the drama, while the echoes of another slain hero-president – Abraham Lincoln – lent historic reference.
The entire spectacle was breathtaking and unforgettable, from the riderless horse next to the caisson carrying the flag-draped casket to the little son of the dead president saluting as the horsedrawn wagon passed by. Jackie stood quietly behind her black veil for three long days until the final scene in Arlington Cemetery,