What Happens at YSL HQ? Discover the Secrets of the Yves Saint Laurent Headquarters

by Afra Jennings

You know that YSL HQ, they call it? That big fancy place where they make all them pretty things. Well, let me tell you something about that. It ain’t always been peaches and cream, no sir.

That Yves fella, the one who started it all, he was a real artist, I reckon. Heard he was born way over in Algeria, sounds far, don’t it? They say he got bullied real bad when he was little, poor thing. But he loved them fancy clothes, found comfort in ’em, they say. That’s how he got started, I guess.

Then he went to work for some other fancy fella, Dior, I think it was. Made lots of pretty dresses and such. But then, that Yves, he had to go off to the army. That didn’t work out too good, he got all sick in the head, and they fired him! Can you believe that? Fired him!

But that Yves, he didn’t give up. He started his own place, with his friend, what was his name? Pierre, yeah, that’s it, Pierre. And they made YSL, that’s what everyone calls it now. Made all them fancy clothes and shoes and shiny things. Real expensive stuff, I hear.

They made a logo and everything, back in, oh, I don’t know, ’63 maybe? Time flies when you get old, you know. Anyway, they got real famous, that Yves and Pierre. Sold their stuff all over the world. They say it’s luxury, that’s what they call it. Means it costs a lot of money.

Now, that Yves, he passed on a while back, got real sick with something in his head. After he died, things got a little shaky for that YSL place. They had to close some stores, even in America, in those big cities, New York and San Francisco. Imagine that! Closing stores!

And they moved their big fancy office, their YSL HQ, across some river in Paris. Used to be on one street, now it’s on another. Took ’em a long time to fix it up, too. Three years, they say. Can you imagine? Three years to fix up a building? Must be some building!

They got some trouble, too, I heard. Something about not paying enough money to the government. They call it taxes. Everybody’s gotta pay ’em, even them fancy folks. Sounds like they owed a whole lot of money. Millions, I heard! More money than I’ll ever see in my whole life.

Oh, and one time they got in trouble for some picture they put in a magazine. They say the girl in the picture was too skinny. They had to take it down, they say. Can’t have that, I guess.

But they still around, that YSL. Still making them fancy clothes and those pretty little bottles of perfume. And they got that makeup line, too, YSL Beauty, they call it. Some other big company owns that part, though. L’Oreal, I think that’s the name. Big, big company.

If you wanna buy their stuff, you gotta have a lot of money. And you can use them plastic cards, you know, the ones you swipe? They take American Express, Discover, MasterCard, and Visa. I don’t have any of those, myself. I deal in cash, good old-fashioned cash.

Here’s the whole story of YSL

  • Yves was a good boy, but he got sick.
  • Yves love pretty clothes.
  • Yves got fired, that not good.
  • YSL HQ moved to new place.
  • Yves died, that make me sad.
  • Now, YSL still here.

They say they even moved part of that YSL place to Los Angeles. That’s in California, you know. Sunny place, lots of movie stars. They even took the “Yves” out of the name for a while. Just called it Saint Laurent. Don’t know why they did that.

So that’s the story of that YSL HQ, far as I know. It’s been a long road, lots of ups and downs. But they still here, still making them fancy things for fancy folks. Me, I’ll stick to my regular clothes. Don’t need all that fancy stuff. But it’s nice to look at, I guess.

That YSL, they make good stuff I guess, even them high price. But I like simple things, you know? These new things, these YSL HQ, they make too many changes. I can’t keep up. These young people, they like these changes.

I only know that Yve was a good man. But he got sick, and god took him. Then that YSL HQ, got lots of trouble. But they still making money. That’s all people care, money, money, money.

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