愛華網(wǎng)伊爾莎?斯奇培爾莉（Elsa Schiaparelli）（1890-1973）生于意大利羅馬。她被認(rèn)為是20世紀(jì)最有名的服裝設(shè)計師之一，也是一位作家。
伊爾莎?斯奇培爾莉_伊爾莎?斯奇培爾莉 -簡介
伊爾莎 斯奇培爾莉的一樣款式1927年在巴黎開設(shè)自己第一家服裝設(shè)計沙龍，追求設(shè)計的創(chuàng)新性，她第一個
設(shè)計了護(hù)肩，毛皮織物和將拉鏈染成和衣服相同的顏色。她和當(dāng)時很多藝術(shù)家，比如著名畫家達(dá)利等人聯(lián)系密切，并聘請他們參與紡織品的設(shè)計，把超現(xiàn)實主義風(fēng)格引入服裝設(shè)計中。二戰(zhàn)之后，她的事業(yè)虧損。后宣告破產(chǎn)前往美國，并在美國同樣獲得巨大的事業(yè)成功。
伊爾莎?斯奇培爾莉_伊爾莎?斯奇培爾莉 -通往廣場的路不止一條
《通往廣場的路不止一條》這篇課文是美國作家伊爾莎?斯奇培爾莉?qū)懙模饕菍懶r候父親帶她到羅馬教堂塔頂，教導(dǎo)她“通往廣場的路不止一條。生活也是這樣。”，她從此就獲得了一個深刻的啟示。長大后，當(dāng)她遇到困難時，能夠不懈地堅持目標(biāo)，并且做到了“此路不通走彼路”，從而獲得成功，實現(xiàn)理想?！锻ㄍ鶑V場的路不止一條》告訴我們：通向成功的道路不止只有一條，有很多條。（本文被人教版五年級上冊選中,是第14課）
伊爾莎?斯奇培爾莉_伊爾莎?斯奇培爾莉 -中文版本
有一次，父親帶著我，爬上教堂高高的塔頂。腳底下，星羅棋布的村莊環(huán)抱著羅馬，如蛛網(wǎng)般交*的街道，一條條通往城市廣場。“好好瞧瞧吧，親愛的孩子，”爸爸和藹地說，“通往廣場的路不止一條。生活也是一樣，假如你發(fā)現(xiàn)走這條路不能到達(dá)目的地的話，就可以走另一條路試試！”
此后，我一直把父親的教導(dǎo)記在心間。
我的夢想是做一名時裝設(shè)計師。
有一天，我遇到了一位朋友。她的毛衣顏色很素凈，卻編織得極為巧妙。
“多漂亮的毛衣呀！是自己織的嗎？”我問道。
“不是，”她答道，“是維黛安太太織的，她在美國學(xué)的?！?br>突然，我的眼睛一亮，一個大膽的念頭在腦海閃現(xiàn)：我為什么不從毛衣入手，自己設(shè)計、制作和出售時裝呢？
我畫了一張黑白蝴蝶花紋的毛衣設(shè)計圖，請維黛安太太先織了一件。為了觀察別人的反應(yīng)，我穿著這件毛衣，參加了一個時裝商人的午宴。結(jié)果，一家大商場的經(jīng)理當(dāng)場就向我訂購了四十件，約定兩星期內(nèi)交貨。我大喜過望，腳下仿佛踩著一朵幸福的云。
“兩個星期要四十件？這根本不可能！”當(dāng)我站在維黛安太太面前時，她說，“你要知道，織這么一件毛衣，我?guī)缀跻ㄉ险粋€星期時間啊！”那朵幸福的云突然消失了，我只好垂頭喪氣地與她告辭。半路上，我猛然停住腳步，心想：這種毛衣雖然需要特殊技能，但在巴黎，一定還會有別的婦女會織的。我跑回維黛安太太家，向她講了自己的想法。她覺得有道理。我同維黛安太太想盡辦法，終于找到了二十位心靈手巧的婦女。兩個星期以后，四十件毛衣從我新開的時裝店裝上開往國外的貨輪。從此，一條時裝的河流，源源不斷地從我的時裝店里流了出來。
后來，我計劃舉辦一次大型時裝展，但在離展出只有十三天的時候，縫紉姑娘們在另一家時裝店的挑撥下跑光了。這回該從哪兒找到一條出路呢？看來，我的時裝展不得不推遲了――不然，就只有展出未縫成的衣服了。對呀！我為什么不可以搞一個不是成衣的時裝展呢？
時裝展如期開幕。這真是一個與眾不同的展覽會――有的衣服沒有袖子，有的只有一只袖子，有的還是一片布樣。雖然我們展出的時裝不是成衣，但從中仍然可以看出這些時裝縫成后的顏色和式樣。這次展覽，激發(fā)了顧客的興趣，前來訂貨的人絡(luò)繹不絕。
父親的教導(dǎo)讓我一生受用不盡――通往廣場的路不止一條！
伊爾莎?斯奇培爾莉_伊爾莎?斯奇培爾莉 -原文賞析
More Than One Way to the Squareb]We were standing at the top of a church tower. My father had brought me to this spot in a small Italian town not far from our home in Rome. I wondered why.“Look down, Elsa,” Father said. I gathered all my courage and looked down. I saw the square in the center of the village. And I saw the crisscross of twisting, turning streets leading to the square.
“See, my dear,” Father said gently. “There is more than one way to the square. Life is like that. If you can't get to the place where you want to go by one road, try another.”
Now I understood why I was there. Earlier that day I had begged my mother to do something about the awful lunches that were served at school. But she refused because she could not believe the lunches were as bad as I said.
When I turned to Father for help, he would not interfere. Instead, he brought me to this high tower to give me a lesson. By the time we reached home, I had a plan.
At school the next day, I secretly poured my luncheon soup into a bottle and brought it home. Then I talked the cook into serving it to Mother at dinner. The plan worked perfectly. She swallowed one spoonful and sputtered, “The cook must have gone mad!” Quickly I told what I had done, and Mother stated firmly that she would take up the matter of lunches at school the next day!
In the years that followed I often remembered the lesson Father taught me. I knew where I wanted to go in life. I wanted to be a fashion designer. And on the way to my first small success I found the road blocked. What could I do? Accept the roadblock5 and fail？Or use imagination and wits to find another road to my goal？
I had come to Paris, the center of the world of fashion, with my sketches6. But none of the famous fashion designers seemed interested in buying them. Then one day I met a friend who was wearing a very beautiful sweater. It was plain in color, but it had a lovely and unusual stitch.
“Did you knit that sweater?” I asked her.
“No,” she answered. “It was done by a woman here in Paris.”
“What an interesting stitch!” I continued.
My friend had an explanation. “The woman her name is Mrs. Vidian―told me she learned the stitch in Armenia, her native country.”
Suddenly I pictured a daring design knitted into such a sweater. Then an even more daring idea came to me. Why not open my own house of fashion? Why not design, make and sell clothes from the house of Schiaparelli! I would do it, and I would begin with a sweater.
I drew a bold black and white butterfly pattern and took it to Mrs. Vidian. She knitted it into a sweater. The result, I thought, was wonderful. Then came the test. I wore the sweater to a luncheon which people in the fashion business would attend. To my great pleasure, the sweater was noticed. In fact, the representative of a large New York store wanted 40 sweaters to be ready in two weeks. I accepted the order and walked out on a cloud of happiness.
My cloud disappeared suddenly, however, when I stood in front of Mrs. Vidian. “But it took me almost a week to knit that one sweater,” she said. “Forty sweaters in two weeks? It is not possible!”
I was crushed to be so close to success and then to be blocked! Sadly I walked away. All at once I stopped short. There must be another way. This stitch did take special skill. But surely there must be other Armenian women in Paris who knew how to do it.
I went back to Mrs. Vidian and explained my plan. She really didn't think it would work, but she agreed to help.
We were like detectives, Mrs. Vidian and I. We put ourselves on the trail11 of any Armenians who lived in Paris. One friend led us to another. At last we tracked down women, each of whom could knit the special stitch. Two weeks later the sweaters were finished. And the first shipment from the new house of Schiaparelli was on its way to the United States!
From that day a steady stream of clothes and perfumes12 flowed from the house of Schiaparelli. I found the world of fashion gay13 and exciting, full of challenge and adventure. I shall never forget one showing which was really a challenge. Once again Father's advice helped me. I was busy getting ready to show my winter fashions. Then just 13 days before the presentation the sewing girls were called out on strike. I found myself left with one tailor and woman who was in charge of the sewing room! I was as gloomy14 as my models and salesgirls. “We'll never make it,”one of them cried.
Here, I thought, is the test of all tests for Father's advice. Where is the way out this time? I wondered and worried. I was certain we would have to call off the presentation or else show the clothes unfinished. Then it dawned on15 me. Why not show the clothes unfinished?
We worked hurriedly. And, exactly 13 days later, right on time, the Schiaparelli showing took place.
What a showing it was! Some coats had no sleeves; others had only one. Many of our clothes were still in an early stage. They were only patterns made of heavy cotton cloth. But on these we pinned sketches and pieces of material. In this way we were able to show that what colors and textures the clothes would have when they were finished.
All in all, the showing was different. It was so different that it was a great success. Our unusual showing caught the attention of the public, and orders for the clothes poured in.
Father's wise words had guided me once again. There is more than one way to the square always.
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