Written Literary Conversations with Nora D’Ecclesis
Featuring
Larry Chrysler, author of
Scattershot:
My Journey from the Projects to Paris to Rodeo Drive
Nora D’Ecclesis: Is your niche audience made up of readers who enjoy autobiographies and memoirs? Was this lovely memoir outlined along the way, knowing at some point you would share it in written form?
Larry: Yes, I believe my niche reader is someone who’s intellectually curious—likely well-read and drawn to nonfiction, especially autobiographies and memoirs that offer both insight and entertainment. When I began sharing these stories, it was purely oral—anecdotes told at dinner parties, to friends, in casual conversation. I wasn’t consciously compiling them for a book. But over time, people kept encouraging me to write them down. Still, it wasn’t until later in life that I realized these personal stories could form a larger narrative, one that others might find compelling. The memoir emerged organically from years of lived experience and shared memory.
Nora: In your first published book, there’s a theme of gratitude and celebration. Tell us the three most amazing events from this beautiful biographical sketch.
Larry: It’s difficult to narrow down a lifetime to just three standout moments, but if I had to choose: First, arriving in New York City at eighteen—a dream I had harbored for years—was absolutely transformative. I was wide-eyed, terrified, and thrilled all at once. Second, beginning my career in fashion design on Seventh Avenue, which at the time was the very epicenter of American fashion. To be a young man sketching designs and watching them come to life in that environment was exhilarating. And third, opening my own men’s clothing store on Rodeo Drive—a pinnacle moment in my career. For me, that was equivalent to a playwright seeing their name on a Broadway marquee. It was a statement of having made it.
Nora: I particularly enjoyed the list of well-known figures you encountered. Who among them most influenced the trajectory of your career?
Larry: Without question, James Galanos. He was one of the most iconic American designers of the 20th century. When someone of his stature takes the time to acknowledge your talent, especially when you’re just starting out, it can shift the entire direction of your life. Galanos believed in me at a time when that belief meant everything—and gave me my first significant opportunity. That encouragement lit the fuse on my fashion career.
Nora: During a difficult chapter in your life, you wrote candidly about your treatment in the Marines and an undesirable discharge. If you’re comfortable, would you share some of that experience?
Larry: Of course. It’s a chapter I lived through and eventually made peace with. What was especially jarring was the military’s obsession with surveillance. They had spent two full weekends tracking my every move while I was on liberty in Laguna Beach. Then came the interrogation—not only was I expected to explain my own actions, but they also pressured me to name other homosexuals at Camp Pendleton. That kind of betrayal was something I refused to be part of.
The most humiliating moment came when I was marched with other so-called “offenders” into the Mess Hall—right in front of a battalion that included several young men I had grown up with back home in Minnesota. It was a deliberate act of public shaming. But strangely, in that lowest moment, I discovered an unexpected strength. I had entered the Marine Corps floating six feet off the ground with idealism, and I left with a horrifying discharge in hand—but with my personal integrity fully intact. It was one of life’s cruelest lessons, but it taught me resilience on a profound level.
Nora: You shared the story of reinventing yourself by changing your name, a decision rooted in family history and personal truth. Would you share that moment with our readers?
Larry: Certainly. My family had a history of changing names due to anti-Semitism, which was all too common in America during the 1930s and beyond. My great-uncle, for instance, changed his name from Karasov to Carson. My father went from Cohen to Collins. So when Princess Radziwill suggested I change my last name from Cohen, it didn’t take long to consider. I understood the cultural weight of names and the realities that came with them. Adopting the name Chrysler felt like both a break and a continuation of carving my own identity while acknowledging the generations that had adapted before me.
Nora: Your memoir, Scattershot, spans decades and offers a rich, varied tapestry of experiences. Readers clearly want more. How do you interpret that request for a sequel?
Larry: It’s incredibly gratifying—and somewhat surprising!—to see how deeply people have connected with my story. Many have told me, “There must be more!” And they’re absolutely right. Scattershot was never intended to be exhaustive. I had to make tough decisions about what to include and what to leave out. The sequel? Well, if I write it, it’ll include some of the stories that ended up on the proverbial cutting room floor—along with a few surprises.
Nora: Do you write from an outline or theme? Your chapter titles are especially engaging—how did they come about?
Larry: When I finally decided to write Scattershot, I began organizing the anecdotes I had previously jotted down over the years. I created digital folders arranged by decade—from the 1930s through the present day. This gave me a chronological structure, but I didn’t limit myself to a strict timeline. I wanted the narrative to feel spontaneous yet cohesive.
As for the chapter titles—thank you for noticing! Most of them are lifted from Cole Porter song titles and lyrics. His wit, elegance, and knowing wink at the absurdities of life always resonated with me. It was my way of injecting a musical rhythm into the memoir.
Nora: Also, as a member of the Silent Generation, a time known for its emphasis on conformity, were you ever a conformist?
Larry: Now, as for conformity—I’ve never been very good at it. Even as a teenager, I sensed I was different, and rather than hide it, I leaned into it. The few times I tried to conform, especially in fashion—say, by altering a design that went against my instincts—it rarely ended well. Authenticity has always been my compass, even when it led me down unconventional paths.
Nora: After many joyful years with your husband Matthew, what would you say to the 18-year-old version of yourself looking back from your 90s?
Larry: Yes, Matthew and I have been together for over twenty years, but we were married in 2013 when it finally became legal in the United States. That distinction is important, especially for many in the LGBTQ+ community. The bond was always there; the paperwork just caught up.
If I could speak to my 18-year-old self—the boy just arriving in New York, starry-eyed and vulnerable—I’d say: Don’t be afraid to live out loud. You’ll face pain and prejudice, but you’ll also discover love, joy, and purpose in places you never expected. Keep moving forward. Be kind to yourself. And trust that being different is your greatest strength.