Elio Bernhayer lived between two antagonistic worlds at times. If I had to explain it to a millennial, haute couture was analog and "prēt à porter", digital. With him, a way of living fashion dies forever, as elegant as it is decadent, which today would turn out to be a book in Proust if there were any way to resuscitate him. They have seen their designs thousands of times even if they did not know they were theirs. The uniforms of the stewardesses of Iberia of the first seventies for example. The Madrid bourgeoisie of the sixties and seventies went through his workshop. For the neophytes imagine the designs of "Arde Madrid". The greatest of all also lived his journey in the desert, when he felt moth-eaten at the time of the move with that imposture of ¿you study or work? The reinvention of himself led him to claim sewing, workshop work (Elio was a man in a white coat) and the traditional Spanish style that had been appropriated from Saint Laurent to Lacroix. The countess of Montarco was his muse, the woman in black, the favorite of the court. The muse His style was technique. That is why there was so much contrast between what it presented, although it was preterite, and the impudence of the supposedly modern upstarts. That elegance died before him. Be like the priest of a destroyed temple. And yet, he reinvented himself.