Givenchy’s 60th Birthday Party. He Said Something That Made Audrey Hepburn Cry

May 12th, 1988. Paris, the ballroom of the hotel deon. Uber de Jivoni is celebrating his 60th birthday. 300 guests, fashions, elite, celebrities, royalty, everyone who matters in the world of Oat Couture. The party has been planned for months. Perfect in every detail. Elegant, sophisticated, everything you’d expect from the man who dressed Audrey Hepburn for 35 years.

Audrey is there, of course, 59 years old, still luminous, still the embodiment of everything Gioveni represents. She’s wearing one of his creations, a simple black dress that somehow manages to be both understated and spectacular. Classic Audrey. Classic Gioveni. The perfect collaboration that defined both their careers.

The evening is going beautifully. Champagne flows. Conversations sparkle. Everyone is celebrating Hubert, his career, his artistry, his contribution to fashion history. But as the night progresses, something shifts in the birthday boy. He’s had too much champagne. His usual reserve is cracking. His emotions, normally locked away behind French propriety, are dangerously close to the surface.

At midnight, Hubert stands to make a speech. Everyone expects the usual gracious remarks thanks to his guests, reflections on his career, modest acknowledgements of his success. Instead, Hubert looks directly at Audrey. standing near the front of the crowd. His eyes fill with tears and he says something that shocks everyone in the room.

Audrey, he says, his voice breaking. You were my muse, my love, my everything. For 40 years, I have dressed you. For 40 years, I have loved you. And I never told you. I never told anyone. But tonight on my 60th birthday, I need to say it. I need everyone to know you were not just my client.

 You were not just my friend. You were the love of my life. And I could never tell you because because what would have been the point? The ballroom goes silent. 300 people watching one of fashion’s most reserved men fall apart in front of them. Audrey’s face goes white. Her eyes fill with tears. Not tears of embarrassment, tears of understanding, of recognition, of pieces falling into place.

Because suddenly everything makes sense. Why Gioveni dressed her for free for 35 years. Why he was available whenever she called. Why he designed dresses specifically for her, not for any show or collection just because he wanted to see her wear them. Why he never married. Why no woman was ever good enough.

Why their friendship felt different from anything else in either of their lives. Hubert sits down heavily. The speech is over. The confession is complete. And 300 people sit in stunned silence trying to process what they’ve just witnessed. The revelation that would change how everyone understood one of fashion’s greatest partnerships.

The secret that explained 35 years of collaboration. The truth about why Giovon treated Audrey Heppern differently from every other woman in the world. She wasn’t just his muse. She was his impossible love. To understand what happened at that birthday party in 1988, you need to go back to 1953 when everything began when a 26-year-old Huber de Jivoni met a 24year-old Audrey Hepburn and fell completely, hopelessly, permanently in love.

 But first, you need to understand who Hubar was in 1953 and what being gay meant in the fashion world of the 1950s. Hubar de Jivoni was born into French aristocracy in 1927. K de Jivoni, old money, old family, old expectations. He was tall, 6’6, aristocratic, impeccably mannered, everything a French nobleman should be, except for one thing. He was gay.

 And in 1950s France, among the Catholic aristocracy, that was not just unacceptable, it was unthinkable. Hubert learned early to hide, to compartmentalize, to present a perfectly proper facade while keeping his true self locked away. He channeled everything, his passion, his sexuality, his need for beauty and love into fashion, into creating clothes that made women look like goddesses.

Into an aesthetic of perfection that matched the perfection he couldn’t allow himself to pursue in his personal life. By 1953, Hubert had his own fashion house. young, talented, rising fast in the competitive world of Parisian oat couture. But he was also lonely, isolated, living a careful, constrained life where authenticity was dangerous, where being himself could destroy everything he’d worked for.

Then Audrey Heppern walked into his life. Spring 1953. Paramount Pictures is preparing to film Sabrina. Audrey needs a wardrobe. The studio sends her to Paris to meet with several designers. Christian Dior, Pierre Balma, the established names. But somehow through connections, through fate, through the mysterious workings of the fashion world, she ends up in Uber Devoni’s salon.

 These forgotten stories deserve to be told. If you think so too, subscribe and like this video. Thank you for keeping these memories alive. Hubert is expecting Catherine Heepburn. That’s what his assistant told him. Catherine Hepburn is coming for a fitting.So when a young, thin, unusual looking woman walks in and introduces herself as Heepburn, Hubert is confused.

This isn’t the strong established actress he was expecting. This is a girl, a wife, someone he’s never heard of. His first instinct is to politely decline. He’s busy. He has established clients. He doesn’t have time for unknown actresses who might not even be able to afford his clothes. But then Audrey speaks.

That voice, accented, musical, vulnerable, but intelligent. She explains about Sabrina, about playing a chauffeur’s daughter who goes to Paris and returns transformed, about needing clothes that tell the story of a woman becoming elegant, becoming sophisticated, becoming someone new. And Hubert looks at her, really looks at her, and sees something that changes everything.

Beauty, yes, but not conventional beauty, something deeper, an innate elegance that has nothing to do with expensive clothes or perfect features. A quality he’s been searching for his entire career without knowing it. the embodiment of everything he wants to create. “Take off your clothes,” Hubert says. “Not sexually, professionally.

I want to see what I’m working with.” Audrey hesitates, then complies, stands in her slip in Hubert’s salon while he circles her, studies her, sees the small breasts, the tiny waist, the long limbs, features that other designers might see as problems that Hubert sees as possibilities. “You’re perfect,” he says finally.

“Absolutely perfect for what I want to do.” And that’s when it happens. The moment that defines both their lives. Looking at Audrey in her slip, vulnerable and trusting and impossibly elegant, Hubert falls in love, not just with her appearance, with her essence, with everything she represents, with the idea of creating beauty for someone who embodies beauty so completely.

He doesn’t recognize it as love. Not at first. He tells himself it’s artistic passion, professional inspiration, the excitement of finding the perfect canvas for his vision. But his reaction is too strong, too immediate, too consuming. This isn’t just professional. This is personal. Deeply, dangerously personal.

Hubert spends the next three days designing Audrey’s Sabrina wardrobe. He doesn’t sleep, barely eats, works obsessively creating dress after dress. Each one perfect for her. Each one highlighting her unique beauty. Each one an act of love disguised as fashion. When Audrey tries on the finished pieces, Hubert knows he’s created something special.

 Not just clothes, article, poetry and fabric. Each dress transforms her, makes her more herself, more elegant, more luminous, more perfect. These are beautiful, Audrey says, looking at herself in the mirror. How much do I owe you? Nothing, Hubert says without thinking. These are gifts. Gifts? But I can pay. No payment necessary, Hubert insists.

 It was my pleasure to dress you. And it was pure pleasure. The most satisfying work of his career. Because he wasn’t just making clothes. He was creating beauty for someone he loved. Someone who didn’t even know she was loved. Someone who could never know. Audrey returns to Hollywood films. Sabrina. The reviews are incredible.

 Everyone notices the clothes, the elegance, the transformation from waif to sophisticate. Hubert’s designs become part of cinematic history. His career takes off. Orders pour in. He becomes one of the most sought after designers in the world. But all he can think about is Audrey. For months after Sabrina, Hubert replays their three days together.

The fittings, the conversations, the way she looked in his clothes, the way she trusted him, the way she seemed to understand his vision, the way she made everything he created look better than he ever imagined it could. He knows he’ll never see her again. She’s Hollywood royalty now. He’s a Parisian designer.

 Different worlds, different lives. The brief intersection of their careers is over. Then in early 1954, the phone rings. Hubert. It’s Audrey. Audrey Hepburn. I’m coming to Paris. Would you have time to see me? Hubert’s heart stops. Of course. When? Next week. I’m preparing for a new film and I wondered if you might design something for me again.

 He says yes immediately. Drops everything. Clears his schedule because Audrey is coming back. The woman he can’t stop thinking about is coming back. This is how it begins. The 35-year collaboration that will define both their careers. But for Hubert, it’s more than collaboration. It’s love. Secret, impossible, unrequited love sustained for four decades.

The pattern establishes itself quickly. Audrey calls when she needs clothes, for films, for premieres, for personal appearances. Hubert says yes always immediately. No matter how busy he is, no matter what other projects he has to postpone, other clients notice. Complain. Why does Audrey Hepburn get priority? Why does she jump the queue? Why are her fittings scheduled around her convenience instead of Hubert’s? Hubert’s excuses are professional. She’sgood publicity for the house.

 Her films showcase my work internationally. The collaboration is mutually beneficial. All true but incomplete. The real reason is simpler. He can’t say no to her. Doesn’t want to say no to her. Lives for her phone calls, for the excuse to see her, to dress her, to create beauty for the woman he loves. And he never charges her.

 Not once, not for anything. 35 years of couture, hundreds of pieces worth millions of dollars, all given freely, gladly, lovingly. The fashion world is baffled. Uber de Javanchi is a businessman, a pragmatist. He charges everyone else full price, sometimes more than full price, but Audrey gets everything for free. When journalists ask why, Hubert deflects.

She’s a friend. She’s special. Some relationships transcend money. True, but incomplete. As the years pass, Hubert’s love for Audrey deepens rather than fades. He sees her through marriages, divorces, children, career highs and lows, personal struggles, and with each interaction, he falls more in love. Not just with how she looks in his clothes, but with who she is, her kindness, her vulnerability, her strength, her grace under pressure.

But he can never tell her, can never even hint at his feelings. Because what would be the point? She’s not gay. She’s not available. And even if she were, the social implications would destroy both their careers. Gay men in the 1950s,60s,7s don’t confess love to straight women. They don’t risk exposure. They don’t jeopardize carefully constructed lives for impossible dreams.

So Hubert loves in silence, expresses his feelings through fabric and thread, through designs created specifically for her. Through clothes that make her look like the goddess he sees when he looks at her. Through 35 years of devotion disguised as professional collaboration. 1961 breakfast at Tiffany’s. Shivoni’s designs become iconic.

 The black dress, the oversized sunglasses, the look that defines Audrey forever. Hubert watches the film and sees his love immortalized. His vision of her perfection captured on celluloid, available for the world to see forever. But the world doesn’t know the real story. doesn’t know that every stitch was sewn with love, that every fitting was a stolen moment with the woman he could never have, that every compliment Audrey gave him, Hubert, this is beautiful.

 You’re so talented. I feel like myself in your clothes was treasured, replayed, savored. 1964, My Fair Lady. More iconic designs, more collaboration, more time together, and more torture for Hubert. Because by now Audrey trusts him completely, considers him one of her closest friends, confides in him about her problems, her marriages, her insecurities, her dreams.

I don’t know what I’d do without you, she tells him during a fitting. You understand me. You see me. You make me feel beautiful. She means it as friendship, as gratitude, as professional appreciation. Yubert hears it as love, as confirmation that she feels the connection too, even if she doesn’t understand its true nature.

1969 Audrey’s second marriage ends. She calls Hubert crying. I don’t think I meant to be married, she says. I don’t think I’m meant to be happy. You deserve happiness. Hubert tells her more than anyone I know. Do I? Sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me. If I’m incapable of making relationships work, “There’s nothing wrong with you.

” Hubert says fiercely. “You’re perfect. Anyone who doesn’t see that is blind. You always know what to say.” Audrey says, “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” “Friend?” The word cuts like a knife. Because Hubert doesn’t want to be Audrey’s friend. He wants to be her everything. Her partner, her lover, her life. But friend is all he can ever be.

 All he’s allowed to be. 1980. Audrey meets Robert Walders. Finally finds real love. Hubert is happy for her. Genuinely happy because he loves her enough to want her happiness, even if it’s not with him. But he’s also devastated because now she has someone. Someone who can give her what Hubert never could. Romantic love, physical love, companionship, a life partner.

Hubert continues designing for her, but the dynamic changes. Now there’s Robert in the picture. Now Audrey’s calls are less frequent. Her visits shorter. She’s building a life with someone else. someone who can love her openly, publicly, completely. And Hubert realizes this is what heartbreak feels like. Not the dramatic oporadic heartbreak of novels and films, but the quiet, persistent heartbreak of loving someone who can never love you back, of being essential to someone who considers you a friend, of having

everything and nothing at the same time. If you want more untold stories like this, don’t forget to subscribe and leave a like. Your support means everything to us. 1988, Hubert’s 60th birthday. He’s never married, never had a serious relationship, devoted his life to work, to creating beauty, to loving Audrey from a distance, and suddenly at 60,he’s tired.

 Tired of pretending, tired of hiding, tired of carrying this secret alone. The party is beautiful, everything perfect. But as the evening progresses, as the champagne flows, as he sees Audrey laughing with Robert, as he’s surrounded by 300 people who think they know him but don’t know him at all, something breaks. The careful control he’s maintained for 60 years finally cracks.

When he stands to make his speech, he doesn’t plan to confess, doesn’t plan to reveal the truth. But looking at Audrey, beautiful, elegant, untouchable Audrey, he can’t hold it in anymore. You were my muse, my love, my everything, he hears himself saying. For 40 years, I have dressed you. For 40 years, I have loved you, and I never told you.

The words hang in the air. Audrey’s face shows shock. recognition, understanding the pieces falling into place, why he never charged her, why he was always available, why their friendship felt different from any other relationship in her life. Around them, 300 guests sit in stunned silence because they’re witnessing something unprecedented.

A confession 40 years in the making. The revelation that explains one of fashion’s greatest collaborations. The truth about why Hubert de Javanchi treated Audrey Hepburn like she was made of starlight. After the speech, after the party wends down, after the guests leave whispering about what they’ve witnessed, Audrey approaches Hubert.

They’re alone in the ballroom, just the two of them. And for the first time in 40 years, the truth is between them. Hubert. Audrey says gently. I had no idea. I know. Hubert says that was the point. You could never have known. All these years, the clothes, the friendship, the kindness. It was because you loved me. Yes.

 But not just because I loved you. Because you deserved it. because you were worthy of it. Because loving you, even secretly, even impossibly, was the greatest privilege of my life.” Audrey’s eyes fill with tears. “I’m so sorry that you carried this alone for so long, that you couldn’t tell me, that you couldn’t, that we couldn’t apologize,” Hubert says firmly. Loving you wasn’t a burden.

 It was a gift. Even unrequited, even impossible. It gave my life meaning, purpose, joy. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But it must have been so lonely, sometimes, but also beautiful. I got to dress you for 40 years. I got to be part of your life. I got to create beauty for the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.

That’s more than most people get in a lifetime. They hug then long tight friends as they always have been, as they always will be. But now the truth is between them. The secret is shared. The love is acknowledged. Even if it can never be returned. Will this change things? Audrey asks between us? No.

 Hubert says nothing changes except now you know. And maybe that’s enough. It is enough for the remaining 5 years of Audrey’s life. Their friendship continues as before. Hubert continues designing for her, continues loving her, continues being the constant, devoted presence he’s been for 40 years. But now Audrey understands, appreciates, treasures his love for what it is.

 Pure, selfless, transformative. When Audrey dies in 1993, Hubert is devastated. Not just because he’s lost a friend, but because he’s lost the love of his life. The woman who gave meaning to 40 years of work. The muse who inspired his greatest creations. The impossible love who made his life beautiful. At her funeral, Hubert speaks about their collaboration, their friendship, their shared aesthetic.

He doesn’t mention love. Doesn’t need to. Everyone who heard his 1988 confession understands this isn’t just grief for a friend. This is grief for the great love of his life. After Audrey’s death, Hubert continues working. But something fundamental has changed. The passion is gone. The inspiration has died with her.

 He goes through the motions of creating fashion, but his heart isn’t in it. How can it be? His heart was buried with Audrey. 2018. Uber de Jivoni dies. Age 91. He never married, never had another love. Spent 25 years after Audrey’s death creating beautiful clothes for other women, but never finding another muse. Never finding another love.

In his personal effects, his family finds boxes of photographs all of Audrey wearing his designs, smiling at fittings, looking perfect in his creations. 40 years of documentation, a love story told in fabric and thread. They also find letters, dozens of them written to Audrey but never sent. Love letters spanning four decades.

Confessions of devotion, expressions of longing, declarations of a love that could never be spoken. One letter dated 1975 reads. You wore the blue dress today, the one I made for your birthday. You said you felt beautiful in it. That’s all I ever wanted, to make you feel as beautiful as you are. If that’s the only gift I can give you, it’s enough.

Another from 1989, one year after his confession. Thank you for not running away when I told you the truth.Thank you for understanding. Thank you for letting me continue to love you even though you can’t love me back. Your friendship is worth more than anyone else’s love. The final letter written shortly before Audrey’s death.

I’ve loved you for 40 years. I’ll love you for whatever years I have left. You were my muse, my inspiration, my reason for creating beauty. You were the love of my life, even though you could never be my life. Thank you for letting me love you. Thank you for being worthy of that love. Thank you for being you.

These letters revealed the true depth of Hubert’s devotion. The 40-year love affair between a gay man and a straight woman who could never be together, but who created something beautiful anyway. A collaboration that transcended romance. A love that expressed itself through art. This is why Uber de Jivashi dressed Audrey Heppern for free for 40 years.

Not because she was famous, not because she was good publicity. Not because their collaboration was professionally beneficial, but because he loved her completely, hopelessly, eternally loved her. And that love, impossible, unrequited, transformative, created some of the most beautiful designs in fashion history.

Clothes that made Audrey look like a goddess. Designs that defined an era. A aesthetic that still influences fashion today. The 1988 birthday party confession wasn’t just a drunken revelation. It was 40 years of love finally finding its voice. 40 years of devotion finally being acknowledged.

 40 years of secret passion finally being shared. Huber de Jivoni loved Audrey Heppern the way artists love their masterpieces completely selflessly without expectation of return. And that love created something eternal something that will outlive both of them. something that transformed impossible desire into timeless beauty. When you see Audrey in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, in My Fair Lady, in any of her iconic films, you’re seeing Hubert’s love made visible.

Every dress is a love letter. Every design is a declaration. Every perfect silhouette is proof that love, even impossible love, can create miracles. That’s the real story of Gioveni and Hepburn. Not just the greatest designer muse collaboration in fashion history, but the greatest love story never told until 1988 when a 60-year-old man couldn’t keep his secret anymore.

When 40 years of silence finally found its voice. When the truth about fashion’s most beautiful partnership was finally revealed. This is Audrey Hepburn. The hidden truth. From wartime horrors to Hollywood secrets, we uncover what they’ve been hiding for decades. Subscribe to discover the dark truth behind the elegant image.