I keep bird feathers on my dresser top and old ideas in my closet. Our imagined selves never really leave us. At 72 I dress like an 8 year old at summer camp.
Thank you. I'm a memoirist/historian and love all things fashion--eh, rather, style. I now have the world's tiniest closet and love it. I can still remember my past through clothes--they are our armour and liberation, a way of "trying on selves." And yes, of remembering our selves.
Dear Elissa: Your ramble down memory lane via various articles of clothing triggers my own memories of clothes, events and feelings of who-was-I? Being a CPA and not that much of a fashion plate, most of my clothing-related memories are tied up in ties, my lucky rep tie I always wore to IRS audits, a flashy basketball themed tie, the first I ever owned which departed from the severe buttondown variety. And then there is my handful of Jerry Garcia ties. Who could ever part with those! Now, this orphaned assortment resides on a tie rack covered with plastic, but still gathering dust, in a corner behind a ragged bathrobe (also a cherished old friend) and an over-sized ironing board, but no way are they leaving the premises, no way. Thanks for the memories, John
Do you have anything in your closet from a Barney’s sample sale, circa 1988? I’m not that New York magazine fact checker anymore, but I like to consider the part she played in making me who I am still becoming. I loved this piece so much. Thank you.
I wish I had been prescient enough to opt for a turtleneck. I have a silk swing dress that I wore to a holiday party at the zombie Cloud Club. What an artifact. I’ve moved that dress four times, including to Maine, where I do not wear it in the garden.
I wanted to write: so same here! But upon reading I notice: clothes same, youth not. Mine was, as I realise now, a distinctly European youth, wild rides over the Alps in minuscule Fiat busses, stays in other ppls holiday houses on Elba, demos for peace and free public transport, and whole days spent in libraries... But shoulder pads and hair: yes. So same.
I’ve never heard of you, but I want to read everything you write. I could be your straight, white brother. A native New Yorker who is also sixty-one, is a food fanatic (and an excellent chef), may have dated some of the women you did, and spend a lot of time messing around with my rather large collection of clothes. For those similarities alone, I find your writing to be a walk down memory lane.
But that’s not the reason I will be seeking out your offerings. No, I’ll be looking for a more interesting reason—you have a beautiful cadence, meter in your style that sends me—somewhere…
Oh Elissa, I adore every version of you. You make us love her then and now. Agnes B, makeup, shoulder pads, Duran Duran, grey sweatpants, Manhattan, CT or Maine, I will follow. What a treasure your writing is. 🤍
I am slightly older and less designer-more arty in style, but I immediately related to your theme. Deep in my closet and bottom drawer lie garments I haven’t worn in decades. Not quite the clothes horse you describe, nevertheless there are items that recall my life onstage as a musician in a band, my carefree hippie days in NM, my late night club-going time in L.A., and even my time as a young mother. I was devastated fifteen years ago to discover that outfits I had stored in an antique trunk had been discovered by nesting mice, thus forcing me to discard a lovely slinky red evening dress with blouson jacket along with the mini-skirted wedding dress from my first marriage, even though I’d never be able to fit my 78 year old body into them today. I still have the remnants of a hand-made silk Shibori jacket worn in countless different combinations until the silk started to shred. (I’m still hoping to find a way to use the silk in another garment.) Memories all.
As I read this all I could think of was my own life in 1964, and the few years after where I dated a true New Yorker, Larry Walker, a producer of commercials and other things. The going backstage after the theatre, The Dugout in Greenwich Village and his walk up apt near Washington Square Park. Studio 54…never brave enough to walk in there. My first taste of raw clams and “Cutty” on the rocks. Elegant clothes, I thought, from “The Little Shop” at Macy’s. I can feel all of that through your words even though it was 20 years before you and somehow I met the only Jewish Air Force pilot in existence and ended up in Selma, Alabama at an Air Force Base, and then Atlanta when he flew for Delta. But, the memories I just experienced from reading your piece are bigger than a lot of that. Thank you. I had forgotten so much.
Well, this leads me to a great prompt for my next writing class: Describe a favorite outfit from the past, using all of your senses...
I too, am a child of the 70s/80s. I'll be 62 next month. Oh, that hair. Those shoulder pads. Ange B. My family was in women's retail, too. It's all quite Jewish, really.
Dean and Deluca! My favourite store when I ever got to NY from London in the 80’s. I bought the best pepper grinder there. Like your divine Agnes B jacket, it has followed me through various incarnations of myself, my life and homes. It now resides in France and would be the thing that I grab if there ever was a fire. So many memories of the food it’s embellished, the friends, family and lovers I’ve shared it with, a marriage that started out so full of hope, a life alone and happy and a life now where I’m trying to grasp those moments and write about them. Love your words Elissa.
It's odd I remember only two articles of clothing from my past, a green print dress sized 13 that my mother bought two of by mistake when I was 12 and a Ralph Lauren thick knit blue turtleneck that I laid in a puddle of bleach when in grad school. My memories erupt at the sight of record album sleeves.
My brain has been taken over with the memory of a photo taken Christmas 1972 by my (nasty) step mother: sitting on her new silver brocade sofa with my perfectly straight (ironed) hair and far too much makeup for a 16-year old. Two piece outfit with a crazy floral print and a skirt so short the darker top of my pantyhose shows. Chunky heels. Sullen face. Leaving that house the following summer was the best gift I ever gave myself.
I was there too in '87, going between the New School and CBGB. The kid I was then shows up in other people's books. I'm just glad some of the quotes make me sound modestly educated. Thank gawd, we didn't have the internet though...there's many scenes that only live in a few people's memories.
Memories for me are smells and feelings, not always nice ones. But a smell can send me down memory lane and I’m there who I was then. Thank you for your writings
I keep bird feathers on my dresser top and old ideas in my closet. Our imagined selves never really leave us. At 72 I dress like an 8 year old at summer camp.
Thank you. I'm a memoirist/historian and love all things fashion--eh, rather, style. I now have the world's tiniest closet and love it. I can still remember my past through clothes--they are our armour and liberation, a way of "trying on selves." And yes, of remembering our selves.
Dear Elissa: Your ramble down memory lane via various articles of clothing triggers my own memories of clothes, events and feelings of who-was-I? Being a CPA and not that much of a fashion plate, most of my clothing-related memories are tied up in ties, my lucky rep tie I always wore to IRS audits, a flashy basketball themed tie, the first I ever owned which departed from the severe buttondown variety. And then there is my handful of Jerry Garcia ties. Who could ever part with those! Now, this orphaned assortment resides on a tie rack covered with plastic, but still gathering dust, in a corner behind a ragged bathrobe (also a cherished old friend) and an over-sized ironing board, but no way are they leaving the premises, no way. Thanks for the memories, John
Thanks, John🙏🏻
Do you have anything in your closet from a Barney’s sample sale, circa 1988? I’m not that New York magazine fact checker anymore, but I like to consider the part she played in making me who I am still becoming. I loved this piece so much. Thank you.
I believe I do! A black cashmere turtleneck!
Thank you- 🙏🏻
I wish I had been prescient enough to opt for a turtleneck. I have a silk swing dress that I wore to a holiday party at the zombie Cloud Club. What an artifact. I’ve moved that dress four times, including to Maine, where I do not wear it in the garden.
Happy you are here. May your journey continue well, Write on.
I wanted to write: so same here! But upon reading I notice: clothes same, youth not. Mine was, as I realise now, a distinctly European youth, wild rides over the Alps in minuscule Fiat busses, stays in other ppls holiday houses on Elba, demos for peace and free public transport, and whole days spent in libraries... But shoulder pads and hair: yes. So same.
I’ve never heard of you, but I want to read everything you write. I could be your straight, white brother. A native New Yorker who is also sixty-one, is a food fanatic (and an excellent chef), may have dated some of the women you did, and spend a lot of time messing around with my rather large collection of clothes. For those similarities alone, I find your writing to be a walk down memory lane.
But that’s not the reason I will be seeking out your offerings. No, I’ll be looking for a more interesting reason—you have a beautiful cadence, meter in your style that sends me—somewhere…
LOL “May have dated some of the women you did.” Thanks for reading - enjoy the books!
Thanks for responding. I’ve already made the list.
Oh Elissa, I adore every version of you. You make us love her then and now. Agnes B, makeup, shoulder pads, Duran Duran, grey sweatpants, Manhattan, CT or Maine, I will follow. What a treasure your writing is. 🤍
I am slightly older and less designer-more arty in style, but I immediately related to your theme. Deep in my closet and bottom drawer lie garments I haven’t worn in decades. Not quite the clothes horse you describe, nevertheless there are items that recall my life onstage as a musician in a band, my carefree hippie days in NM, my late night club-going time in L.A., and even my time as a young mother. I was devastated fifteen years ago to discover that outfits I had stored in an antique trunk had been discovered by nesting mice, thus forcing me to discard a lovely slinky red evening dress with blouson jacket along with the mini-skirted wedding dress from my first marriage, even though I’d never be able to fit my 78 year old body into them today. I still have the remnants of a hand-made silk Shibori jacket worn in countless different combinations until the silk started to shred. (I’m still hoping to find a way to use the silk in another garment.) Memories all.
As I read this all I could think of was my own life in 1964, and the few years after where I dated a true New Yorker, Larry Walker, a producer of commercials and other things. The going backstage after the theatre, The Dugout in Greenwich Village and his walk up apt near Washington Square Park. Studio 54…never brave enough to walk in there. My first taste of raw clams and “Cutty” on the rocks. Elegant clothes, I thought, from “The Little Shop” at Macy’s. I can feel all of that through your words even though it was 20 years before you and somehow I met the only Jewish Air Force pilot in existence and ended up in Selma, Alabama at an Air Force Base, and then Atlanta when he flew for Delta. But, the memories I just experienced from reading your piece are bigger than a lot of that. Thank you. I had forgotten so much.
Well, this leads me to a great prompt for my next writing class: Describe a favorite outfit from the past, using all of your senses...
I too, am a child of the 70s/80s. I'll be 62 next month. Oh, that hair. Those shoulder pads. Ange B. My family was in women's retail, too. It's all quite Jewish, really.
thank you! Love this
Dean and Deluca! My favourite store when I ever got to NY from London in the 80’s. I bought the best pepper grinder there. Like your divine Agnes B jacket, it has followed me through various incarnations of myself, my life and homes. It now resides in France and would be the thing that I grab if there ever was a fire. So many memories of the food it’s embellished, the friends, family and lovers I’ve shared it with, a marriage that started out so full of hope, a life alone and happy and a life now where I’m trying to grasp those moments and write about them. Love your words Elissa.
It's odd I remember only two articles of clothing from my past, a green print dress sized 13 that my mother bought two of by mistake when I was 12 and a Ralph Lauren thick knit blue turtleneck that I laid in a puddle of bleach when in grad school. My memories erupt at the sight of record album sleeves.
My brain has been taken over with the memory of a photo taken Christmas 1972 by my (nasty) step mother: sitting on her new silver brocade sofa with my perfectly straight (ironed) hair and far too much makeup for a 16-year old. Two piece outfit with a crazy floral print and a skirt so short the darker top of my pantyhose shows. Chunky heels. Sullen face. Leaving that house the following summer was the best gift I ever gave myself.
I was there too in '87, going between the New School and CBGB. The kid I was then shows up in other people's books. I'm just glad some of the quotes make me sound modestly educated. Thank gawd, we didn't have the internet though...there's many scenes that only live in a few people's memories.
Memories for me are smells and feelings, not always nice ones. But a smell can send me down memory lane and I’m there who I was then. Thank you for your writings