MY INTERIOR DESIGN BUSINESS was booming, and I was on my way to see a new client in Brooklyn. Her travel instructions left a great deal to be desired; to begin with, I got off at the wrong subway stop and walked straight into an unexpected rainstorm.
I was frantically trying to figure out where I was when I spied what I thought had to be a mirage: a long, slender store window with a beautiful Tiffany glass screen at one end, against which was draped an outfit by the great Norman Norell. I swooned and gasped. At the other end of the window was a mannequin magnificently dressed in Pauline Trigère.
Waterlogged and anxious, I entered the emporium, a cavernous room filled with clothing on pipe racks, women in various stages of undress scrambling about, and dozens of disgruntled husbands yapping at their wives to step on it.
I realized I had stumbled upon Loehmann’s, the legendary discount retailer. I snooped around the racks, saw nothing that pleased me, and wondered what all the fuss was about. I was about to leave, when another customer came to my rescue. She explained that I was in the low-end department and that if I were to go to the back of the store and walk up a flight of stairs, I would come to the exalted “back room.” I followed her instructions and fell into Aladdin’s cave: clothes by all the great fashion designers were hanging there in dizzying array.
The clothes were gorgeous, and the prices were incredibly low. I was dripping and drooling all at once. I had found the Holy Grail, but had neither the time nor the money on hand at that point, so I thanked the Lord for my good fortune and promised myself a return trip.
I quickly became a regular. Every time I went back to Brooklyn, I would stop by and pick up a few more pieces. Often, I had no time to try anything on as I was always running to meet a client. The store had a no-return policy then, but that never deterred me because, being a fabric freak, I figured I could always turn an oversize dress into some gorgeous pillows. The textiles were truly to die for!
Occasionally, Mrs. Loehmann would sit on a high stool on the selling floor to observe all that went on. A petite woman, she wore her hair in a topknot. She was always dressed in a high-button blouse, a long drawstring skirt, and high-button shoes—and she always carried her miser’s bag full of cash from bailing out the garmentos on Seventh Avenue. She reminded me of a character in a Toulouse-Lautrec painting.
She often fixated on me as I sashayed about. One day, she summoned me over.
“I’ve been watching you, young lady,” said she. “You’re certainly no beauty, but you’ve got something much better—you have STYLE!”
I didn’t quite understand what she meant at the time, but her comment was a precursor of much to come.
When I was a little girl, I asked my father what he was going to give me for my birthday.
He replied, “Why should I give you anything?”
“Because it is my birthday,” I stammered.
He retaliated, “I don’t have to give you anything. You had nothing to do with being born!”
Photo Credit: Macy's Merchandising Group Marketing & Creative Services in partnership with Snaps Media Inc.