Ref: Gala, February 2022
Without even knowing it, many have set foot in the places designed by this decorating genius from the 60s to the 80s.
Journey of a visionary.
Do you know Slavik? Probably not. And yet… He is now considered the pope of decoration for public spaces from the 1960s to the 1980s. Often overlooked because he did not sign any major private interiors and, above all, did not publish any furniture, this creator nevertheless left his mark on Paris. A book, Slavik, the Drugstore Years, immerses us (again) in the design of that era.
When, in 1954, Marcel Bleustein-Blanchet, founder of the Publicis advertising agency, entrusted him with the interior design of his drugstore project, he knew what he was doing. Wiatscheslav Vassiliev, a Russian exile born in 1920 who chose the diminutive Slavik, was already a pioneer in the staging of consumerism.
Having attended the École des Arts décoratifs and Idhec (Institut des Hautes Études Cinématographiques, now La Fémis), in the film set design section, the dandy who sported cleverly unconventional looks – such as a sand-colored safari jacket paired with white patent leather loafers worn without socks – knew a great deal about his era.
Then head of industrial aesthetics and artistic advisor at Publicis, he had long integrated the principles of Raymond Loewy’s book, published in 1953, entitled Ugliness Sells Poorly. After a period spent on screen ornamentation and then theater set design, he distinguished himself as a ‘director’ of window displays at Galeries Lafayette.
During his time at the institution on Boulevard Haussmann, Slavik knew how to turn each of his compositions into a happening aimed at celebrating the product. He learned to blend art and desire, beauty and functionality, presentation and encouragement of the urge to buy. For example, when he installed a sand beach for summer items that wouldn’t get dirty, he eliminated sound effects, the cries of seagulls, which he considered anxiety-inducing. His mantra: to imagine luxurious and addictive visions that captivate passersby, drawing them in. And encouraging them to cross the swinging doors of the department store, forging a connection with their time.
Both obsessive and meticulously precise, the man never abstracted himself from the realities of commerce. He knew that a shoe should not be presented in profile to sell, but should expose its insole so that the potential buyer could imagine themselves putting it on. In an era that celebrated synthetic fabrics, materials such as stainless steel, Formica, Plexiglas, resin, inflatables, or disposables, Slavik, for his part, created cocoons adorned with noble materials. He swore only by wood, marble, leather, plush carpets, and Murano glass.
He dreamed in Paris in front of Maxim’s and Le Train Bleu, in Venice in front of Café Florian. Enough to seduce the ambitious Marcel Bleustein-Blanchet, who explained his idea imported from the United States: the drugstore, which would adjoin the Publicis agency on the Champs-Élysées, would be a place open day and night (until 2 AM), and would have a promise: that of a living space provided with a pharmacy, a newsagent and tobacco shop, magazines, and even restaurants.
Very quickly, Slavik had the right intuition. He drew inspiration from an English club and worked with wood. Marcel Bleustein-Blanchet was skeptical: cigars do not mix with white cigarettes. At the opening of the drugstore in 1958, it was a marvel for those who entered. One felt as if in a private and privileged space. In a way, it was an experience of exclusivity. Fashion and decor intertwined.
In 1959, a model dressed in Pierre Cardin posed on the cover of Elle in front of the establishment where young people flocked, captivated by this unusual temple. Filmmaker Benoît Jacquot remembers entering through one side and exiting through another, without the hope of encountering all of Paris. Hipsters mingled with families and tourists. Couples formed within these settings.
In 1965, the opening of a second drugstore, in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, confirmed the concept’s success. Juliette Gréco found herself shoulder to shoulder with Catherine Deneuve, Françoise Sagan mingled with the politicians of the time, regardless of their affiliations. Slavik fully demonstrated his talent by imagining bas-relief ornaments formed by cameos in the shape of eyes or mouths of celebrities such as Jeanne Moreau, Brigitte Bardot, Marlene Dietrich, Albert Camus, Duke Ellington, Jean-Paul Belmondo, or Picasso. He also played with lighting effects, materials, mirrors, and space, in a resolutely theatrical spirit.
Slavik was not just a decorator; he was a creator of worlds. He knew how to energize the sometimes rigid bourgeois character of public spaces to transform them into vibrant, sensual, almost cinematic environments. He turned the visitor into a pinball and claimed it.
Like any great creator, Slavik traveled extensively. Today, his decorations from that era have disappeared, except for those of the brasserie L’Européen, near Gare de Lyon, and the Bistrot de Paris, on Rue de Lille. He also designed the restaurant Jules Verne, on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower, for which he designed chairs whose structure echoed that of the Tower, in steel.
Curious, educated, intrepid in the worlds of art, press, and fashion, the decorator passed away in 2014 at the age of 94, taking with him a dynamic that many decorators still draw inspiration from today: that of anti-functionalism. Or the art of knowing how to create connection in places primarily intended for consumption and in cities where, contrary to what Sartre believed, hell can sometimes ultimately consist of not meeting others….
