Balenciaga had the most wonderful sense of colour - his tête de nègre, his café au lait, his violets, his magentas and his mauves. Every summer I'd take his same four pairs of slacks and his same four pullovers to Southampton with me. Then... one year I went down to Biarritz. I laid out exactly the same four pairs of slacks, exactly the same four pullovers... and I'd never seen them before! It's the light of course - the intensifying light of the Basque country. There's never been such a light. That was Balenciaga's country.