Suddenly Susan
Not so long ago, Austin women in need of couture clothes had to go to Dallas or Houston. Now Susan Dell (the wife of Michael) is selling her own high-dollar designs in a tony boutique. It's your classic riches-to-rags story.
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Despite their billions, the Dells lead disciplined lives. They work hard. They exercise religiously. They don't drink. But do they occasionally stop to marvel at their good fortune and allow themselves to get caught up in the moment? "There are times, now and then, when something really exciting happens," Susan said, "when Michael and I look at each other and say, 'Wow!' and we'll high-five each other. And then I say, 'Okay, let's get our heads back on,' and it's over."
The appearance of Susan Dell's tony, high-dollar boutique in Austin—rather than in Dallas or Houston—speaks more to the city's changing character than does the ever-increasing traffic through its moneyed hills. The recent infusion of massive wealth has brought a new status consciousness to the city, along with a similarly alien taste for conspicuous consumption, so sudden in its arrival that a boutique like Susan Dell's would have had virtually no client base five years ago. But as Michael Dell has helped create tremendous prosperity in Austin, so now his wife caters to its beneficiaries. On a blazing hot morning this summer, Deborah Green, an attractive blonde (and the wife of Tom Green, a Dell senior vice president who is the chairman of the Dell Foundation and one of Austin's major players) stood before a mirror in Susan's boutique, appraising her reflection. The store's sleek, minimalist expanse of limestone and glass was adorned with vases of calla lilies; the clothes on display, mostly tailored suits and dresses cut on the bias, had a spare, understated elegance. Susan knelt beside Deborah Green in a large fitting room, pinning hems as she critically eyed each piece, a seamstress in tow. Green had already opted for a currant-colored funnel-neck top ($185) and a black satin skirt and top with ruched seams ($995). Now she stood appraising an olive sequined halter top ($2,850 with a matching skirt). "It's very Deborah Green," Susan said.
"Mmm," Green murmured. "I want it." Susan handed her a sky-blue silk-georgette blouse and a pair of black slacks and then set to work fitting them to Green's petite frame.
"I'm feeling a little Rubenesque today," said Green with a sigh, though she looked quite svelte. Her teenage daughter, who sat in a black lacquered chair in the corner of the fitting room, offered some reassuring words. Next, Susan suggested she try on a white blouse made from silk-metal gauze, a sheer fabric with steel bonded into it.
"Are we going to ding if we go through a metal detector at the airport?" Green asked, evidently amused. Susan laughed, all the while nipping and tucking at the black slacks. She reminisced about a hand-embroidered-and-beaded satin gown she had designed for Green several years before, a champagne-colored sheath trimmed with iridescent chiffon and Parisian lace encrusted with sequins and paillettes.
"Susan, you have a memory like a steel trap," said Green. "We need to go to a big ball in Dallas so I can wear it again!" She shook her head and laughed. "Susan always says about my dresses, 'This would look fabulous with a diamond necklace of mine—you should borrow it.' And I always say, 'Only if it comes with a guard!'"
No sooner had Deborah Green left, a black garment bag slung over her shoulder, than a stylish middle-aged woman pulled up in a silver Porsche. "Gorgeous!" she exclaimed as she threw open the door and beamed at Susan. Admiring an ostrich-feather bustier—"It's divine!"—she proceeded to tell Susan about a friend in Houston who was in need of several couture gowns, including one for a function at the Menil and another for the opera. "She's a great gal, and she's hosting stuff all year long," the woman explained, fingering an ivory cocktail dress. She surveyed the boutique for a few moments, then gazed approvingly at its owner. "Susan," she gushed, squeezing her arm, "I'm just so happy for you."
The boutique, whose elaborate door handle is forged in the shape of Susan Dell Inc.'s signature elongated U—"U as in you, the customer," Susan explained—evokes a mood more in step with her hometown's sensibilities than with Austin's traditionally dressed-down ethos. Susan began designing her own clothes after leaving Dallas behind, finding Austin's lack of high-end designer wear frustrating. She regularly sent a Dallas tailor sketches of business suits and evening clothes to sew, and when she was unable to find a wedding dress that suited her exactly, she designed her own: a satin gown flecked with gold thread, opalescent bugle beads, and baby pearls, with a silk-tulle veil and four-foot-long satin train. "When women would comment on my clothes, I would never say, 'I designed it,' because I honestly didn't think people would believe me," she explained. "Someone would say, 'I love that. Where did you get it?' And I'd say, 'Oh, Dallas.' " She credits her husband with spreading the word about her talent; when friends learned that she had designed her dresses, they requested custom ball gowns of their own.
Dubbed "Susans," they run from $5,000 to $30,000 apiece and are known for their impeccable finishing. "Her dresses could be worn inside out," marvels client and friend Lisa Gottesman. "I'd put them in the same category as Gallianos." Early on in her dress-designing days, Susan accompanied her husband on business trips to Europe, cold-calling Parisian mills whose fabrics she admired and sparing no expense in her pursuit of luxury materials. By 1997 her gowns were so popular that she had more work than one patternmaker and two seamstresses could handle. She drafted a business plan and began recruiting a team of fashion veterans to help build the company into a worldwide, multimillion-dollar corporation. Linda Beauchamp, the head of Donna Karan Menswear, signed on as president, and Ellen Enders, who had worked as a design assistant under Oscar de la Renta and Richard Tyler, became the head designer. (Susan, whose title is creative director, designer, and CEO, works in tandem with Enders throughout the design process.) In the future, promotional photography will be handled by Harper's Bazaar legend Lillian Bassman, and all future stores will be designed by Charles Gwathmey—the sort of all-star team that only extraordinarily deep pockets could finance. The company is overseen by an advisory board that happens to include Michael Dell.
The label's ready-to-wear clothes are by no means trendsetting or avant-garde, but—to the surprise of many who initially wrote off Susan Dell's foray into fashion as a lark—they are surprisingly sophisticated. She has largely depended on word- of-mouth to promote her label; when her boutique opened last November, she threw a private party for one hundred well-heeled guests, who received sterling silver U key chains and a preview of her spring collection. Her clients currently include Melinda Gates (the wife of Bill), Julie Taubman (the wife of New York real estate tycoon Robert), Sarah Perot (the wife of Ross, Jr.), Julie Crenshaw (the wife of golfer Ben), and Donna Stockton-Hicks (the wife of radio magnate Steve). By next fall Susan wants to have her line in an upscale national department store, and her plans beyond that are no less ambitious. "I want my clothes to be as highly regarded as the clothes designed by all the fabulous people I look to now—Karl Lagerfeld and Tom Ford and Ralph Lauren—but I am not naive enough to think that I will be there anytime soon," she said, pacing her Austin office. "Doubts about me haven't gone away, and they may never go away. But if I couldn't design clothes, they wouldn't be leaving the store. They'll figure it out."
After dashing out of her boutique to meet her next appointment, Susan called from her car phone to continue our conversation, confiding that in recent months she had been dreaming about her business nearly every night—long, convoluted dreams in which she was draping fabric on a mannequin for an elaborate ball gown. Did she ever get out of bed to sketch it on paper? "If I'm going to do anything in the middle of the night, it's going to be to grab Michael," she said, laughing. "I have my limits."
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