Oh, how I miss Loehmann's, which I originally discovered in Los Angeles and then patronized regularly (obsessively) in San Francisco. The real drama was in the communal dressing rooms, where a comment from a stranger — solicited or not — could decide your fate. Were we dressing for those female strangers or for the unhappy men outside?
And I too am a fan of Carol Young's designs and her charming store. That whole street is delightful.
Oh yes the one in SF was huge. I always hated that crazy parking garage but I did it for Loehmanns. The best thing was finding one that wasn’t so overshopped. I used to be a consultant and I remember one in Reseda that was really good and then one off of the 73 in Orange County.
Loehmanns is where I learned that any size is a potential fit. The one I frequented had both the communal space and dressing stalls with doors but no mirrors so you still had to parade in front of everyone else to see yourself.
Oh, Loehmanns! And the shared dressing rooms where women would eagle-eye other shoppers' garments in the hope they'd hang it on the discard rack so you could grab it immediately! Being a Bronx girl, at the location at 238th Street & Broadway (site of the old Kelton's ice rink!) I'd immediately haul ass to "The Back Room" where the big designer names (or what my mother would refer to as "buyer's mistakes") were set out, in my quest for the ultimate bargain. Favorite scores were a faux cheetah Anne Klein car coat (before that was a thing) and a DVF paisley dress that I deliberately wore to the launch of her makeup line at Bendel's. Of course she immediately recognized the dress. A photo of me wearing that dress is on my business card. As for narrating audiobooks -- if the author is a good performer, s/he is the best storyteller of his/her books! My friend's account is called "Leslie in my ear" in fact!
Such an excellent post. On the topic of transference, maybe the recipient being satisfied is not always enough? The tailor could not bring himself to sell you the jacket in that state because in his mind it would be an unfulfilling experience. Though I agree the jacket is uniquely attractive as is, you gotta respect his commitment to his craft.
Snoop around some of the London rummage shops, find a jacket, and enjoy using a ripper to remodel the seams to display the good bones. You can always sashiko the basting lines.
This - "The other women shopping in the section were as dogged as I was, as avid and focused as snipers. " - describes where I thrift shop (clothing is $1.69/lb, used to be $1.49/lb, so a single piece, regardless of the label, usually weighs in under $1. It's shopping heaven.) This was such a great post as you describe your thought process on how you write/read aloud, and how you're super aware of your readers. Fantastic.
Your paragraph on the power of reading and interrogating your own work as a reader (not the writer) resonates in such a satisfying way with so many of my favourite moments of insight in George Saunders’ “A Swim in a Pond in the Rain”. Such a pleasurable moment of parallels to see this here, while reading that, and enjoying both immensely!
A) That's an amazing jacket. Wish that they would have made you one. B) LOEHMANN'S- worth it's own post, for sure.The dressing room is where I first saw a mass of women, in all their various shapes and sizes. Previously I had sen my mother in her underwear ( NEVER naked), but Loehmann's was the great equalizer. There we all were in the glory of our panties and bras ( even some girdles in the old days). I loved the camaraderie of those dressing rooms and mourned it's passing when, in the downtown NYC city store they instituted private dressing rooms. Bowing to the sensitivities of younger generations. Silly young people. The conversations were rich and funny and sometimes revealing and personal. True girl power!
This story is well-timed. On Monday, my writing class with Kathryn Aalto will be reading our lastest essays to each other. Mine, part of a chapter of my next book, is a personal reflection on the Baltimore violin shop where I used to hang out as a teenager. I get pulled into music stores the way you do into fashion shops.
I will share your story with the class, since we've been discussing the importance of reading our work out loud, to ourselves and to others. I find that when I am writing a draft, my 40+ years of teaching people about trees makes me think directly of my readers as I write, but reading aloud brings a new focus. I find, especially, that I often repeat the same verb or noun in a paragraph and don't notice it until I read it aloud.
For our class this week, our final one, we are reading and discussing your delightful Mt. Fuji story from Outside.
I visited a Loehmann's once, under duress, and walked out before trying anything because I was intimidated by the dressing room. For those who don't know, it's one large room with a bunch of clothes and women and salespeople. Ugh. No.
Re the tailor. I completely sympathize with him and support his not selling the unfinished piece. It's like asking a chef to make her signature dish but without X, Y, or Z.
I was introduced to Loehmann’s by my future mother-in-law’s sister. On my first trip with both of them, I was astonished by my future aunt’s ability to immediately find the diamonds in the dreck. And then there was the dressing room….
When I was a student at Columbia in the 1990s, we made the pilgrimage to the Loehmann’s mother ship. Your description is absolutely right: a lot of schmata but some gems. In Designer, I found a gorgeous Carolyn Roehm cocktail dress that was deeply discounted to $298. It was gold with a tulle skirt. I simply couldn’t do it, but I still think about that dress all these years later.
NB: That kind of request would not go over well in the niche sartorial world of Napoli or Campania either…I once wore a sleeveless cotton summer blouse designed with the stitching showing & the seems turned out, (Barney’s) on one of my summer sojourns to hill town Campania, where I now live — a town steeped in sartorial history. I have been an amateur seamstress since childhood (runs in the family) and thought this blouse was so great I bought two; a deep midnight blue & creamy white. Well, the looks and comments I suffered from well meaning relatives — expert tailors every one, not to mention all the other seamstresses, camiciaie, men’s tailors and more… that it was a kind of comedy of errors for that summer. All mine. Still, I loved those blouses. Would have had them recreated here, but no one would have obliged me.
Oh, how I miss Loehmann's, which I originally discovered in Los Angeles and then patronized regularly (obsessively) in San Francisco. The real drama was in the communal dressing rooms, where a comment from a stranger — solicited or not — could decide your fate. Were we dressing for those female strangers or for the unhappy men outside?
And I too am a fan of Carol Young's designs and her charming store. That whole street is delightful.
PS I loved your piece today!
Thank you!
Oh yes the one in SF was huge. I always hated that crazy parking garage but I did it for Loehmanns. The best thing was finding one that wasn’t so overshopped. I used to be a consultant and I remember one in Reseda that was really good and then one off of the 73 in Orange County.
Loehmanns is where I learned that any size is a potential fit. The one I frequented had both the communal space and dressing stalls with doors but no mirrors so you still had to parade in front of everyone else to see yourself.
Yes! A particular size varies widely from label to label. Filene's Basement in Boston was the same with communal dressing rooms. It was a hoot.
Oh, Loehmanns! And the shared dressing rooms where women would eagle-eye other shoppers' garments in the hope they'd hang it on the discard rack so you could grab it immediately! Being a Bronx girl, at the location at 238th Street & Broadway (site of the old Kelton's ice rink!) I'd immediately haul ass to "The Back Room" where the big designer names (or what my mother would refer to as "buyer's mistakes") were set out, in my quest for the ultimate bargain. Favorite scores were a faux cheetah Anne Klein car coat (before that was a thing) and a DVF paisley dress that I deliberately wore to the launch of her makeup line at Bendel's. Of course she immediately recognized the dress. A photo of me wearing that dress is on my business card. As for narrating audiobooks -- if the author is a good performer, s/he is the best storyteller of his/her books! My friend's account is called "Leslie in my ear" in fact!
Bronx Loehmans for 2 sisters, my mom & me too..
Always the Anne Klein or Perry Ellis coats 🧥 🤣
Such an excellent post. On the topic of transference, maybe the recipient being satisfied is not always enough? The tailor could not bring himself to sell you the jacket in that state because in his mind it would be an unfulfilling experience. Though I agree the jacket is uniquely attractive as is, you gotta respect his commitment to his craft.
Great point!
Snoop around some of the London rummage shops, find a jacket, and enjoy using a ripper to remodel the seams to display the good bones. You can always sashiko the basting lines.
This - "The other women shopping in the section were as dogged as I was, as avid and focused as snipers. " - describes where I thrift shop (clothing is $1.69/lb, used to be $1.49/lb, so a single piece, regardless of the label, usually weighs in under $1. It's shopping heaven.) This was such a great post as you describe your thought process on how you write/read aloud, and how you're super aware of your readers. Fantastic.
Thank you so much!!
Your paragraph on the power of reading and interrogating your own work as a reader (not the writer) resonates in such a satisfying way with so many of my favourite moments of insight in George Saunders’ “A Swim in a Pond in the Rain”. Such a pleasurable moment of parallels to see this here, while reading that, and enjoying both immensely!
Thank you!!!
A) That's an amazing jacket. Wish that they would have made you one. B) LOEHMANN'S- worth it's own post, for sure.The dressing room is where I first saw a mass of women, in all their various shapes and sizes. Previously I had sen my mother in her underwear ( NEVER naked), but Loehmann's was the great equalizer. There we all were in the glory of our panties and bras ( even some girdles in the old days). I loved the camaraderie of those dressing rooms and mourned it's passing when, in the downtown NYC city store they instituted private dressing rooms. Bowing to the sensitivities of younger generations. Silly young people. The conversations were rich and funny and sometimes revealing and personal. True girl power!
Loehmann's! Love that this piece has brought up from the deep my own memories...
This story is well-timed. On Monday, my writing class with Kathryn Aalto will be reading our lastest essays to each other. Mine, part of a chapter of my next book, is a personal reflection on the Baltimore violin shop where I used to hang out as a teenager. I get pulled into music stores the way you do into fashion shops.
I will share your story with the class, since we've been discussing the importance of reading our work out loud, to ourselves and to others. I find that when I am writing a draft, my 40+ years of teaching people about trees makes me think directly of my readers as I write, but reading aloud brings a new focus. I find, especially, that I often repeat the same verb or noun in a paragraph and don't notice it until I read it aloud.
For our class this week, our final one, we are reading and discussing your delightful Mt. Fuji story from Outside.
Oh how cool! That’s a favorite piece of mine…
I visited a Loehmann's once, under duress, and walked out before trying anything because I was intimidated by the dressing room. For those who don't know, it's one large room with a bunch of clothes and women and salespeople. Ugh. No.
Re the tailor. I completely sympathize with him and support his not selling the unfinished piece. It's like asking a chef to make her signature dish but without X, Y, or Z.
Hold my purse for a sec…
I was introduced to Loehmann’s by my future mother-in-law’s sister. On my first trip with both of them, I was astonished by my future aunt’s ability to immediately find the diamonds in the dreck. And then there was the dressing room….
"as dogged as I was, as avid and focused as snipers." !!!
When I was a student at Columbia in the 1990s, we made the pilgrimage to the Loehmann’s mother ship. Your description is absolutely right: a lot of schmata but some gems. In Designer, I found a gorgeous Carolyn Roehm cocktail dress that was deeply discounted to $298. It was gold with a tulle skirt. I simply couldn’t do it, but I still think about that dress all these years later.
NB: That kind of request would not go over well in the niche sartorial world of Napoli or Campania either…I once wore a sleeveless cotton summer blouse designed with the stitching showing & the seems turned out, (Barney’s) on one of my summer sojourns to hill town Campania, where I now live — a town steeped in sartorial history. I have been an amateur seamstress since childhood (runs in the family) and thought this blouse was so great I bought two; a deep midnight blue & creamy white. Well, the looks and comments I suffered from well meaning relatives — expert tailors every one, not to mention all the other seamstresses, camiciaie, men’s tailors and more… that it was a kind of comedy of errors for that summer. All mine. Still, I loved those blouses. Would have had them recreated here, but no one would have obliged me.