It was pouring rain in Paris in early July, and Rachel Zoe was late for the 11:30 a.m. Chanel haute couture presentation. ‘‘Oh, I shouldn’t say who my favorite is,’’ Zoe told me the day before the show. ‘‘So many of the designers are my friends. They all want to get their clothes on my clients.’’ Still, for Zoe, a Hollywood stylist who has dressed stars like Lindsay Lohan, Cameron Diaz and Keira Knightley, Chanel’s red-carpet ball gowns would have been a top priority of the couture calendar. And yet there she was, stuck in traffic in her chauffeured Mercedes sedan, an hour away from the Chanel show, which was to be held at a former palace in St.-Cloud, a suburb of Paris.

As always, Zoe (pronounced ZOH) was dressed for the designer she was viewing. She was wearing a bright pink nubby wool Chanel jacket, black pants and her usual five-inch platform open-toed shoes. All the Zoe trademarks were in place: she was very tan; her long blond hair was carefully styled to look carefree; there were ropes of gold chains around her neck and stacks of diamond bangles on her wrists; and enormous (Chanel) sunglasses nearly obscured her face. Even wearing high heels, she is short and stick-thin, but Zoe, who is 36, does not seem fragile. The masses of jewelry, the outsize sunglasses, the whole noisy, ’70s-inspired look add up to a hectic, ostentatious, theatrical sort of glamour.It’s the look she has duplicated on her clients, making the so-called Zoe-bots paparazzi favorites, as well as walking advertisements for a host of top designers.

A cross-pollinator of the worlds of Hollywood celebrities, high fashion and tabloid magazines, Zoe has become a powerful image broker, a conduit to the ever-more lucrative intersection of commerce, style and fame. Early in her career, in 1996, she worked as a stylist at YM magazine, dressing such teenage pop stars as Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson, girls who were young enough to be molded and popular enough to be influential. Around the same time, magazines like Us Weekly began inventing their own cadre of celebrities, like Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie. They had no discernible accomplishments or talent, but they did seem to go out a lot, and they thrived under the flash of the paparazzi. Magazines like Us constructed provocative narratives around them — their romantic woes, their drug problems — and Zoe, who began working with Richie in 2003 when she was viewed only as Hilton’s plump sidekick, saw an opportunity. ‘‘Nicole is now what people refer to as the big thing that happened,’’ Zoe told me in Paris. ‘‘Everything went from nowhere to everywhere. Nicole was about creating a look. Because of her fashion sense, which was really my fashion sense, she became famous. It was a huge moment: Nicole became a style icon without being a star.’’


And then Nicole became a star, too. Because of circumstances that remain murky, Nicole and Rachel no longer speak. But the relationship made their careers. Zoe began working with Lindsay Lohan, Kate Beckinsale and other tabloid-ready stars eager for a new fashion identity. Now she has 20 clients, each of whom reportedly pays her more than $6,000 a day to dress them for events, big and small. Some pay only for premieres and award shows; some also retain Zoe to provide clothes for their daily lives. The financial scope of her business also includes incentives in the form of money and/or clothes, accessories or jewels, offered by designers eager to dress a particular Zoe client for a particular event. ‘‘Around three years ago, everything began to change,’’ Zoe said as she ran through puddles toward the entrance of the Chanel show. ‘‘The nature of what, or who, is a celebrity has expanded. We aren’t saving lives here, but we are creating images, and images create opportunities in a lot of areas.’’

Normally Chanel refuses entry to latecomers, but Zoe was allowed into the show. Three publicists cooed over Zoe’s appearance as she quickly kissed them hello on both cheeks and rushed past to her seat in the front row. The models were already walking down the muddy runway when Zoe took out her digital camera and began snapping shots of the dresses. There were many potential choices for her clients. A ruffled black chiffon flapper style gown might be perfect for Jennifer Garner; a more restrained, narrow sequined sheath might suit Keira Knightley.

Although Lohan is a fan of Chanel, Zoe was not looking for clothes for her (Lohan was in rehab). Unlike Richie, who became famous for being famous, Lohan is actually a very good actress. But since her association with Zoe in 2004, her life in the tabloids and her style obsessions have eclipsed her talent. ‘‘For an entire year, Lindsay wanted to wear three different looks a night,’’ Zoe told me earlier. ‘‘We were changing in cars, in bathrooms. I would have to bring two assistants with me so we could exchange the clothes, shoes, bags and jewelry, because what am I going to do with the clothes when she takes them off? You can’t just leave diamonds in the car! But do you know how many designers she hooked up? When Lindsay would wear Chanel, it would sell out in four hours.’’

Lohan may have moved merchandise, but she seems to have simultaneously stopped attracting audiences to her films. Exposure in magazines like Us Weekly and In Touch, which Zoe seems almost to guarantee, promises a huge but very particular kind of fame. While, say, Jennifer Aniston has sold endless magazines, all those eager readers have been less quick to buy tickets to her movies. Only ‘‘The Break-Up,’’ which neatly mirrored the tabloid narrative of her life, was popular. And yet, if mass stardom of the self is your goal, there is no quicker path than the tabloids.

Zoe’s job — her innovation in the business — was to maximize the fashion component of the Hollywood-equals-celebrity equation. And for Zoe, fashion means the red carpet. Movies don’t necessarily depict a glamorous existence, but the red carpet has the gloss of perfection. When images of the girl and her gown are beamed around the globe, the dress, the bag, the shoes instantly become coveted symbols of a dream world. ‘‘The power of it all blows my mind every day,’’ Zoe said as the Chanel show ended. ‘‘Anna Wintour is one of my heroes, but they say that I’m more influential. As great as it is, Vogue won’t change a designer’s business. But if an unknown brand is worn by a certain person in a tabloid, it will be the biggest designer within a week. When I worked with Nicole, there were things that she wore that designers had to remake for another season because there was such demand.’’


Zoe was interrupted by two carefully groomed publicists in head-to-toe Chanel. They were concerned that Zoe had not seen every look in the show. Zoe promised to come to the showroom. She checked her BlackBerry and called her driver to find out his location. ‘‘I’m exhausted,’’ she said, to no one in particular. ‘‘My problem is, I kind of want to do everything. I was up until 4 a.m. checking on things in L.A. I have the fashion world, the Hollywood world, the creative world, and then I have the Rachel Zoe world. I have to deal with all of it.’’

On a gray day in Paris, Zoe was having lunch at the Bristol, where she was staying with her husband, Rodger Berman, who was once an investment banker and now produces award shows for television. ‘‘I love Paris,’’ Zoe said as she studied the menu. ‘‘If I spoke the language, I’d live here.’’ She looked up at the waitress, who had appeared at the table. ‘‘Can you do crudité?’’ Zoe said. The waitress looked confused. ‘‘You did it yesterday. With cucumber. If not, I guess a salad, no dressing.’’ The waitress still looked confused. ‘‘You see,’’ Zoe said to me, ‘‘there’s just too much of a communication barrier.’’ Zoe took a sip of her English Breakfast tea. ‘‘I wish caffeine had vitamins in it,’’ she said.

At times, Zoe, who was wearing a neon yellow patent leather Courrèges jacket from the ’60s, can seem like a dizzy character in a backstage musical. She seems to alternate between playing the madcap heiress (complete with costume) and the wisecracking best friend. But in both guises, her intense determination and ambition become almost immediately apparent. Zoe is, in many ways, her own best client.

In the last few years, stylists have become a dominant part of the business,’’ says Meredith O’Sullivan, a publicist who represents the actresses Jessica Biel and Rosario Dawson, among others. ‘‘And Rachel is a large part of the reason. Having a stylist is now a necessary element in any publicity or marketing campaign. As soon as I sign a girl, I insist that she get a stylist.’’

The economics of the stylist have significantly affected the movie business. A stylist’s fee, which can range from $4,000 to $6,000 a day plus the cost of assistants, is usually paid by the studio that is distributing the star’s film. Zoe, like most stylists, has an agent who negotiates with the publicity department of the movie company or, in the case of TV, the network. ‘‘It’s such a racket,’’ said one head of publicity at a major studio, who wished to remain anonymous for fear of angering any actresses who work with Zoe or other top stylists. ‘‘During awards season, when you are nominated or presenting an award, then it makes sense to have a stylist. But now, B- and C-list stars are demanding stylists for everything. The level of insanity is very high. But the bottom line is, if you don’t give them what they want, the actresses say they won’t do any press, that they won’t appear at the premiere. Sometimes I feel like saying, How difficult is it to just go out and buy a dress?’’

Horror stories are rampant: last year, for instance, Nicole Kidman demanded upward of $100,000 for her stylist, makeup artist and hair person to be flown by private plane to the Venice Film Festival for the premiere of ‘‘Fur,’’ a low-budget, independent film about the photographer Diane Arbus. The studio, Picturehouse, decided not to pay for Kidman’s team for the New York premiere of the film. She, in turn, decided not to turn up. ‘‘It was cheaper for us if she didn’t support the film,’’ said an executive familiar with the marketing for ‘‘Fur.’’ ‘‘We should all come back in our next life as stylists.’’


While stylists, including Zoe, never say they aim for the tabloids, all are concerned with coverage in those pages, because that is where the clothes are seen by the largest number of interested readers. Nicole Kidman may be leagues away from Nicole Richie, in both talent and prestige, but she is keenly aware of the fashion pop of the tabloids. And her exposure (created with the help of her stylist, L’Wren Scott) is carefully choreographed. Kidman’s last few films have disappeared quickly, but her Chanel ad was a hit. What Kidman wears still sells.

The fashion choices made by a stylist like Zoe are usually safe and often geared to their commercial possibilities. Today actresses tend to look appropriate and boring. Gone are the days when Cher would don a beaded headdress for the Academy Awards or Jane Fonda would accept her Oscar in an off-the-rack pantsuit. True, the eclecticism of awards-show dressing started to die well before Zoe. In 1989, Wanda McDaniel, who is married to the Oscar-winning producer Al Ruddy, went to work for Giorgio Armani and began dressing stars like Jodie Foster (Armani still dresses her) and Julia Roberts, as well as most of the leading actors in Hollywood from George Clooney to Warren Beatty to Clint Eastwood. Armani never charged for the service — the company even provided its own stylist to check on the fit of the garment and to assist with any accessories. Some stars continue to work with fashion designers in this way. Reese Witherspoon has an arrangement with the company Nina Ricci for red-carpet events, and Renée Zellweger usually wears the designer Carolina Herrera. But neither is structuring her career around tabloid exposure

That’s really what I object to about what Rachel Zoe does,’’ said the major studio publicity head. ‘‘If an Academy Award-nominated actress has 50 appearances to make and she hates to shop, we’re happy to hire her a stylist. But to pay exorbitant amounts when the designers and the stars just want publicity in the tabloids, that is not going to help a movie at the box office.’’

Zoe did not invent the job of stylist to the stars, but she did expand what the job could entail. In the past, stylists concerned themselves with the Academy Awards and a few other black-tie gala extravaganzas. ‘‘Everything changed with the popularity of red-carpet preshows and the popularity of fashion and celebrity in the tabloids,’’ O’Sullivan told me. What Zoe recognized is that the tabloids — virtually the only magazines to increase their circulation substantially in recent years — pretty much split their coverage between the bad behavior of their chosen stars and what they wore, whether it was to jail, to a premiere or to pick up their kids at school. ‘‘Because of the tabloids running photos of people in their downtime, that became a thing,’’ Zoe said as she waited for the food to arrive. ‘‘So, we started doing fun outfits to go get your coffee in the morning or if you were going to the Ivy for dinner. You know what I’m saying? The obsession with the tabloids fuels the business. Was I responsible? Yes. I think people should look cute all the time.’’

Life for Zoe and her clients became a constant red carpet. She put them in a combination of designer pieces and vintage finds from the ’60s and ’70s, which is also the way she dresses. After her days at YM, Zoe continued giving Jessica Simpson, then 16, advice on what to wear. ‘‘The girls started asking for my help when they had an event,’’ Zoe explained. ‘‘They’d say, ‘Oh, my God, Rachel, only you could wear such a huge pair of sunglasses.’ Or, ‘Only you could wear a ring the size of your hand.’ And, I’d say: ‘That’s nonsense. You can wear it, too: it’s about having confidence in taking a risk.’ And without risk, there’s no reward.’’

reward, of course, was fame. Not just for clients like Nicole Richie and, later, for more established stars like Cameron Diaz, but for Zoe too. Top designers suddenly sought her out, and she was asked to create a line of evening bags for Judith Leiber, to consult on the Gap’s shoe Web site and to be in an ad for a Samsung cellphone. Her autobiography/fashion guide, ‘‘Style A to Zoe,’’ will be published in October. The book is a narcissistic swirl of drawings of Zoe, photos of Zoe with her celebrity clients and glowing testimonials from fashion eminences like Valentino, mixed with tips — how to strike a pose and what to pack for a trip to Europe. ‘‘Hopefully, the book will teach people,’’ Zoe said at the Bristol as her food finally arrived. ‘‘You’re only here once. Why shouldn’t you do it with style?’’ Zoe looked down at her plate. Steamed vegetables were fanned around a small dollop of sauce. ‘‘What is this?’’ she asked. Zoe picked up her untouched plate and beckoned the waitress. ‘‘I need to send this back,’’ she said. ‘‘Bring it to me without the sauce, please.’’

As the waitress left, Zoe continued. ‘‘It has to be the big picture for me,’’ she said. ‘‘A lot of people saw this job as you put them in a dress and that’s all. I didn’t see it that way. I want them to look great all the time. And I don’t nickel-and-dime people. A lot of stylists say they are hired for this, this and this so that’s the only thing I’m going to dress them for. I’m like, are you nuts? If my client calls me and says I’m going to a friend’s premiere, I’ll say, come over and let’s do something cute. And I won’t bill them for that.’’

It all adds up anyway: more outfits means more photos, which means more designer credits and greater awareness and money. Through her involvement with Zoe, Lohan was offered not only the covers of top fashion magazines like Harper’s Bazaar and Elle but also upscale advertising campaigns for Miu Miu, Prada’s younger sister. ‘‘No one wants to stay in the tabloids,’’ Zoe said as a new plate of vegetables was placed before her. ‘‘But it’s actually not a terrible place to start.’’

late July, Zoe was in Manhattan to work on her newest venture, the relaunch of Halston, perhaps the most iconic American fashion house of the ’70s. Her involvement came about in a typical Zoe connect-the-dots way. Zoe met Harvey Weinstein, the Academy Award-winning movie mogul, at a fund-raising event in 2005. Weinstein had a new interest in fashion. His girlfriend, Georgina Chapman, had become a co-designer of Marchesa, a label that specializes in evening dresses. Eager to help Chapman, Weinstein strongly suggested that the stars of his movies wear Marchesa gowns for big events. ‘‘I also put the gowns on my girls,’’ Zoe said now, as she sat in the back seat of a black sedan on her way to a vintage store downtown called Resurrection. ‘‘And we became friends.

Zoe is also friends with Tamara Mellon, the president of Jimmy Choo (Zoe not only put Jimmy Choo stilettos on her girls; she also styled Jimmy Choo ads). It was Mellon who learned that Halston was available and brought the idea to Weinstein and Zoe, when they were all vacationing in St. Bart two years ago. At $22 million, Halston was not expensive — the brand has been relaunched twice already, and both efforts were financial failures. Weinstein secured the company through a private equity firm. Zoe was intrigued. ‘‘I said: Are you kidding? In a minute I’ll do this,’’ Zoe exclaimed. She was wearing loose jeans, a sleeveless white shirt unbuttoned to her sternum and an even larger amount of gold jewelry than usual. ‘‘I keep changing my sunnies,’’ she said as she fished in her Birkin bag for another pair of sunglasses. ‘‘When the light changes, you have to change your sunnies.’’Earlier that month, the Halston team named Marco Zanini, a former Versace assistant, as creative director. ‘‘He’s kind of brilliant,’’ Zoe said. ‘‘All the talent without the ego. But this is a slow process: I’m used to moving fast. Our C.E.O. is a Virgo like myself. We are always saying, keep it moving, keep it moving

Growing up in Short Hills, N.J., Rachel Zoe Rosenzweig (her middle name was then pronounced ZOH-ee) was fascinated by Halston. The daughter of wealthy art collectors, she was surrounded by Frank Stellas and Keith Harings, but her earliest memory is of her mother’s closet. ‘‘I was 13 going on 30,’’ she recalled. ‘‘And to me, Halston was a true superstar. I wanted to be in his world. I wanted to dance at Studio 54 and fly to exotic destinations. And his clothes represented that dream.’’

Zoe’s phone rang. Her ring tone is the opening notes of ‘‘Riders on the Storm,’’ by the Doors. ‘‘I’m not sick of it yet,’’ she said as she put the BlackBerry to her ear. ‘‘What’s up, babe?’’ It was Taylor Jacobson, one of her two assistants, calling from L.A. ‘‘It’s bananies here, just bananies. Liv’s fitting went great. But she needs some bags. Get some Atwood, Choo and Vivier. And I saw Annie last night. She’ll wear the white long for the Hamptons premiere on Monday. You have to get the jewels to her from Cartier. Cavalli is so happy about the premiere. What else? What else? I have lost my short-term memory — I’m just getting blonder by the day.’’To translate: Liv Tyler and Anne Hathaway have several events, and clothes are needed. Zoe and her team almost never buy anything new — they borrow or they are given garments from nearly every designer. Some designers say no. A year ago, Zoe contacted Olivier Theyskens, then the designer of Rochas, about dressing Keira Knightley. He refused. ‘‘I was shocked,’’ she said after ending her phone call. ‘‘I honestly could not believe that he wouldn’t want to dress her. He’s a brilliant designer, but he doesn’t understand how the business works.’’

Despite her roots in the tabloids with teen stars, Zoe is determined to elevate her business from mass to class. Her idol is Carine Roitfeld, now the editor of French Vogue, who started out as a stylist and inspired designers like Tom Ford at Gucci. ‘‘I had someone say to me the other day, You are my muse,’’ Zoe said as we passed a Starbucks. ‘‘And I said, Don’t put that pressure on me.’’ She stared out the window. ‘‘We have to stop at Starbucks. Even when I’m in Paris, I only drink Starbucks coffee. Otherwise, I feel like I’m cheating on this country.’’

After ordering an iced tea and placing the cup inside another cup (‘‘I hate condensation,’’ she explained), Zoe returned to the car. With all her new projects, the book, the Halston deal, the Leiber handbags that are priced from $2,500 to $16,000, it is surprising that Zoe is still fussing over Anne Hathaway’s dress for a local premiere. ‘‘I keep saying I’m going to cut back on styling,’’ Zoe said, ‘‘but it’s hard to give up. To be totally honest, I struggle with these two people: the Rachel that is the 100 percent service let-me-chase-you-down-the-red-carpet person. And then there’s the other Rachel. I’ve worked at this for 14 years, since I graduated from college, and right now, there are many opportunities to be Rachel the individual.’’She has already started shedding skins. Even though she had great success with Lindsay Lohan, Zoe has now distanced herself from the troubled actress. ‘‘I haven’t really been with Lindsay in the last year,’’ she said. ‘‘When I was with Lindsay, we’d stay up all night and try on clothes. Clothes made her happy. But I’ve only seen her two times in the last six months.’’ Zoe paused. ‘‘I always wonder, How would I have been if I was 18 and around millions of dollars in fame and fortune? How would it be to be wanted by everyone?’’

Todd Shemarya hates to use the word ‘‘brand.’’ ‘‘It sounds so using,’’ he said when I met him for drinks at the Chateau Marmont in Los Angeles in August. As Zoe’s brand agent since last year, Shemarya, who was boyishly dressed in jeans and a baseball hat, is largely responsible for her expansion past the world of styling. ‘‘What I do,’’ Shemarya explained, ‘‘is to take an entity, whether it be a celebrity or a stylist, and enlarge their profile. I take whatever anyone’s best assets are and then I apply those in a business situation.’’

Shemarya, who also represents stars like Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston, got his start in the fashion world. He owned a modeling agency and began booking his models for commercials and other endorsement-related work. ‘‘I don’t give myself the credit for starting the endorsement thing,’’ Shemarya explained, ‘‘but it didn’t get big until I started doing it. Elizabeth Taylor had White Diamonds perfume, but it wasn’t that big of a deal yet. Now my clients endorse jewelry, pens, water, jeans and much more. But we are very careful. We don’t endorse anything that will not enlarge an entity’s profile.’’

In many ways, Zoe and Shemarya share a worldview: everyone has to get dressed in the morning, so why not have some role, financial or otherwise, in those choices? Both utilize the allure of celebrities, and both have altered the existing business model. Zoe has made every insecure actress (and they are all insecure) feel that her fame/success/career depend on what clothes her stylist tells her to wear, and Shemarya has turned top actors into ‘‘brands’’ without, he says, compromising their artistic credibility.He now plans to reinvent Zoe. ‘‘The way I see it,’’ Shemarya said, ‘‘fashion is now bigger than the movie business. It’s a world that has no end. And yet, nobody can guess who their customer is. Every fashion house is looking for a formula. Rachel has a formula. She’s paid attention to the marketplace. She figured out who wanted to buy what. And now she’s beyond being a stylist: Rachel Zoe is a brand that creates brands.’’Although Zoe has no design training, Shemarya plans for her to have her own line of sunglasses, jeans and shoes. ‘‘Very few designers ever went to design school,’’ Shemarya said. ‘‘And a lot of actors never went to acting school, and they were very successful. You either have a talent or you don’t. And Rachel may never have been a designer, but she’s been a creative director every single day. She creates outfits for people. She invents stars

Shemarya says he feels it’s crucial that Zoe move away from the tabloids. ‘‘Her associations with the Lindsays, the Nicoles cheapens the brand,’’ he explained. ‘‘I didn’t want Rachel to be seen out as much. And I’m not sure I would have chosen Halston for her. They’ve tried to revive that brand before, and it hasn’t worked. Sometimes the universe gives us a signal.’’Shemarya sipped his iced tea. ‘‘Let’s face it,’’ he continued, ‘‘you can take any entity and make them famous. But how long will that fame hold? I don’t think people are stupid. They are interested in the tabloids because they want an escape from reality. And Rachel figured that out. But when Nicole became famous, it was a different time. I’m not sure people are so easily persuaded today.’’

His current goal is to reinvent Zoe as a television star. While audiences would probably like to see her behind the scenes with her famous clients, Shemarya imagines her as a 2007 updated version of Elsa Klensch, an early fashion reporter who had a weekly show on CNN. Klensch concentrated completely on designers and their creations. Her show was never provocative or celebrity-oriented — Klensch would have had no interest in Zoe’s actresses.

know what people want,’’ Zoe told me. ‘‘They want to watch me with my assistants backstage with a star.’’ She isn’t unaware of what brought her to the public’s (and Todd Shemarya’s) attention: without the girls she dresses, who is Rachel Zoe? ‘‘That’s the challenge,’’ Zoe continued. ‘‘I understand what people want to see, but I’m interested in something else. I want my show to be about the history of fashion, about these brilliant designers and their homes and their lives.’’ She-marya agreed. ‘‘We want to do something educational,’’ he told me, ‘‘that you can still make money off of.’’

They’re negotiating a deal with Bravo, home of ‘‘Project Runway’’ (which is co-produced by Harvey Weinstein) and many makeover shows. ‘‘I would never do anything like a reality show with any of my clients,’’ Shemarya insisted. ‘‘Too much information cheapens the brand. And you can go from high to low, but it’s very difficult to go from low to high. That’s one of the challenges with Rachel.’’At her white modernist house in the Hollywood Hills above Sunset Boulevard, Zoe and her assistant, Lia Davis, were sitting at the space-age table in her kitchen looking at dresses on the Internet. ‘‘I die for this,’’ Zoe said as she looked for a strapless gown that might work for Jennifer Garner, ‘‘but nobody can wear this — it’s just too tight.’’ Davis, who was wearing a loose black smock dress with silver gladiator sandals, wrote a note on the pad in front of her. ‘‘Will people do feathers?’’ Zoe asked. ‘‘Yes!’’ Davis enthused. ‘‘Chanel wanted to dress Garner,’’ Zoe continued. ‘‘You should find out about that.

As Davis made another note, Zoe retrieved a diet Snapple from her refrigerator. It was nearly 2 in the afternoon, but Zoe was wearing a long white cashmere bathrobe and high-heeled espadrilles with full photo-ready hair and makeup. She looked particularly bony, her narrow frame accentuated by the tight belt of her robe. Her extreme thinness has spurred gossip: in recent months Zoe has repeatedly denied rumors that she is dependent on drugs and has, in the past, supplied clients.‘‘It’s absolutely not true,’’ Zoe told me in Paris. ‘‘I never even get drunk. I don’t like to let my guard down. I never lose control of where my head is. If I have an entire glass of wine in a night, that’s a lot.’’ Others agree. ‘‘Rachel is a nurturer,’’ says Cameron Silver, who owns an upscale vintage store called Decades, one of Zoe’s favorite destinations. ‘‘If she has a vice, it is shopping. She told me once that she has buyer’s guilt every day of her life.’’

In fact, except for the living room, with its sculptural Philippe Starck couch and the huge bed in the master bedroom, this house is dominated by clothes. There’s an enormous walk-in closet, with clothes organized by color. Her dresses are grouped according to category (designer, style, period and then hue). There are eight built-in drawers for jewelry, ranging from classic Hermès cuffs in the top drawer to more delicate ’20s pieces in the drawer below. A second bedroom has been turned into a closet, where Zoe has stashed some of her furs. ‘‘This room is just for coats and scarves,’’ she said as she walked down the hall toward her office, where 50 handbags were placed on the floor in neat rows of five. Downstairs, what was once the garage is now the showroom. ‘‘This is where all the clients come,’’ Zoe explained.

In the showroom, Zoe opened a closet, exposing at least 70 pairs of jeans, organized by size and cut. Six metal racks were packed with gowns, and there were rows of shoes, waiting to be tried on. On the desk were Polaroids of Zoe’s clients, Debra Messing and Maria Sharapova, in various ensembles. A photograph of Lindsay Lohan was torn out of a tabloid. There was a red circle drawn around the ring she was wearing, and someone — probably one of Zoe’s assistants — had written ‘‘H. Stern,’’ the name of the manufacturer. Zoe turned the clipping over. ‘‘You’re not supposed to see that,’’ she said.

Zoe picked up a Polaroid of Jennifer Garner. ‘‘I do have rules,’’ Zoe said. ‘‘I don’t like the girls to wear black for awards shows. It doesn’t photograph well. And I don’t normally do gray, even though Lia loves gray. I stay away from brown and certain shades of green. Basically, I don’t like any of the colors that don’t look good on me.’’ Zoe laughed. ‘‘I never truly decide about a dress for a big awards show until five minutes before they have to leave. It’s always Cinderella off to the ball.’’

Davis appeared in the showroom and asked Zoe to come back upstairs so they could finish making their choices. ‘‘If you snooze, you lose,’’ Zoe said as she followed Davis back into the kitchen. ‘‘The dress Cameron wore to the Costume Institute I grabbed as soon as I saw it on the runway. And then everyone wanted it.’’Zoe sat down and stared at a baby-doll dress with a white collar designed by Giambattista Valli. ‘‘I feel like I’ve seen this dress before,’’ she said. ‘‘I love it, but I feel like I’ve actually put this exact dress on someone.’’ Zoe paused. ‘‘Maybe I’ve been doing this too long,’’ she said. ‘‘Maybe it’s time for a change.’’