His home illustrates this. Flanking the studio's elaborately carved marble fireplace are two nearly life-size bronze nudes. In contrast, the Le Corbusier chairs and tables are products of the bare-bones Bauhaus movement. Kieselstein-Cord is a man of many contradictions. He is "a slave to antiquity" yet is "wild about technology. He does most of his advertising and promotional photography himself.
He has an antique automobile collection, but loves to drive the latest cars and owns a fleet of race cars, Team Kieselstein-Cord. On a small table next to his bed, leather editions by nineteenth-century French author Alexandre Dumas lie next to a copy of The Final Odyssey by Arthur C.
While he has a warm-and-cuddly bear-like nature, at five foot seven and a half inches he moves weightlessly, like a gazelle. Well-established at 54 years old, he still has the gee-whiz curiosity of a boy. Although the frown and laugh lines etched into his face are evidence that he has lived, there remains a childlike wonder in his expression. His mother, now 77, was an illustrator. Always highly creative and a bit eccentric, she nurtured the artist in him.
He adored his father, who was trained as an architect but ended up "a tough guy in the real-estate business. Although his father was the only man in his family who didn't smoke, Kieselstein-Cord associates cigars with his side of the family.
Talk about intimidation! They figured if I was tough enough to go into an Irish bar during lunch or rush hour, I could do anything. In addition to the challenge of acquiring Garcia y Vegas, he loved the smell of the glass-tubed cigars. It has to be the right-smelling cigar and I have to be in the right mood to smoke," he says. You have to be big to smoke a big cigar. Schwarzenegger can pull it off--I can't. Schwarzenegger would have to duck to fit his large frame through the five-foot-nine-inch doorway that leads into Kieselstein-Cord's walk-in humidor at Crocodile Hall.
He converted a walk-in safe--the original s mahogany door has a built-in combination lock--into his cigar vault. Five wraparound shelves are stacked with boxes of Partagas, Dunhill, Punch and Pleiades Pluton cigars. A portable humidifier maintains the moisture level.
The humidor is located in a small alcove off the Buffalo Room, a dark, wood-paneled clubby chamber punctuated by an oversized wooden fireplace flanked by two hand-carved winged lions.
Above the fireplace is a stuffed buffalo head. In one corner of the room, an airplane propeller is mounted on a stand. It might be a Brancusi sculpture. And the room might be a hunting lodge, were it not in the middle of Manhattan.
Geographically, his home is not too far from the walk-up apartment where he started his business 27 years ago. Aside from the jewelry, handbags, luggage and belt buckles, Kieselstein-Cord designs home furnishings--lamps, tabletop accessories, a limited-edition humidor and furniture--and licenses scarves, ties and eyewear. Kieselstein-Cord is said to bring in more revenue per square foot than any other brand at Bergdorf's.
Each piece is hand-crafted, signed, dated and copyrighted. They don't have a huge amount of precious gemstones; they're more subtle, and beautifully made. It's not the intrinsic value that makes them valuable; it's the craftsmanship and cult aspect. The craftsmanship is in the details and the cult aspect is the cachet. Unlike some of the other big-name jewelry designers, BKC is known to insiders only.
Even the editor of one of the industry's trade magazines didn't know the BKC name. It is safe to say that Kieselstein-Cord has avoided overexposure. Kieselstein-Cord is reluctant to give out information about himself, his company and his designs, perhaps because so many of the designs have been stolen. In he won a precedent-setting copyright infringement case against a jewelry firm that had reproduced one of his belt buckles. The decision was significant because it determined that his belt buckle was considered art rather than a functional design, and therefore protected by copyright.
Like his home, the office in New York's garment center that serves as Kieselstein-Cord's company headquarters and design studio is nondescript on the outside. His name isn't even on the building marquis, but the concierge knows what floor he's on. Even on his floor, there's no indication of the company other than a mallard green door. It probably explains the following…. When Barry and Karen split in August, they moved out of their Park Avenue town house and he moved into a rental.
Karen, who lives in a two-bedroom apartment at Fifth Ave. Really Karen, what in the world is going on in that house? You must have a whole village residing in the guest room and as one could imagine have the help running around mercilessly tending to their every waking need.
Last time I checked everyone with a zip code was born with it stitched into their lapel. Mmh- define grooming Karen? Does that include nicks and tucks at the plastic surgery, wonderful and relaxing sessions at the spa with a Russian babooshka who tends to your mortal wounds?
Or is that just what it costs to buy you some nail polish and a new sanitizer just before you do the dishes? How tough? Among the fashionable and stylish wives on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, she is certainly among one of the more fetching and definitely in the Top Fact is that Designer Barry Kieselstein Cord has a good eye for more than design.
He has created far more than beautiful handbags and jewels. Even his offspring are of another realm see e. Of course, even then I might give her a few Valium and wire her trap shut. Regardless of what the truth is here and one never knows in divorce proceedings, while it sells newspapers a litigation strategy forged on Page Six is hardly wise or sound.
The first question I would ask, is who is your lawyer and why is this divorce not conducted amicably outside the press.
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