Good morning, darlings. I'm in Tokyo and excited to begin my adventure but wanted to share something I wrote last night on the plane as I struggled with a wakefulness that would not leave me...enjoy.
When I was a little girl, my father worked for a life insurance company called Colonial Life and Accident. As far as my deal goes, there’s nothing terribly significant about that in itself- but what was life changing for me were the white tablets they used to make with their logo on it. Plain, pure white notepads- pages stuck together by adhesive at top- and those notepads were the canvas for my dreams.
From before I can really remember living, I was drawing. I sketched pictures of everything, mostly figurative things. I drew Betty and Veronica from Archie comics (a love of mine), and then more importantly, I drew pictures from my mother’s fashion magazines. I drew from Vogue, I sketched from Bazaar, I admired all of those beautiful images as I sat with one leg tucked on the blue carpeted stairs on the landing of my living room. But no magazine was more significant to my artist beginnings than WWD- which was crammed with photos of society women. I drew those women and imagined them at all sorts of event- parties, safaris, trips to town, trips to the country. Even though I was barely old enough to make sense of these things, I was so very inspired by these glamorous women with expensive haircuts and gorgeous clothes. Is it normal for a 6 year old to understand that Geoffrey Beene was a fabulous tailor or think about how fabulous Talitha Getty looked in that caftan? Some of you still don’t know what either of those things has to do with anything. It’s ok, cause I do.
And as I fly to Tokyo and just this second finished watching “Scatter my Ashes at Bergdorf Goodman”, surrounded by my September issues, I had a bit of a fashion epiphany. It’s not that I drew those ladies because I wanted to be them, it’s because I wanted to dress them. I wanted to make magic for them. I wanted to cater to them and help them and inspire them. All I wanted when I was a girl was to be a fashion illustrator/designer- making things that would make women the envy of everyone and give them the perfect pieces for their fabulous lives.
Watching this outstanding film about this storied retail heaven in Manhattan, I couldn’t help but get choked up. From the incredible gentleman who does the windows to the eccentric personal shopper who lives on her own (chic) planet to the countless designers whose dreams were made by Linda Fargo saying “yes” to their dress, the incredible passion these people have for their career and for style is just transcendent. It’s hard in this day and age to not feel in some way that a store like Bergdorf’s is out of step, that as the world struggles to feed itself and so many are going through the worst of times, there’s no place for an expensive designer dress. But guess what? I don’t shop at Bergdorf’s. Never have. Can’t afford any of that stuff but what I can afford is to watch those incredibly gifted people preserve creativity, artistry, taste- all of those things that spoke to me as a little girl in Philadelphia. As I watched this film, I realized the people I admired in fashion were not just those who wore it well, but those who made it well, from top to bottom. These are the people that yearned to break out of their boring lives in boring towns where nobody really got them and strived to go big. Yea, many in fashion have built in pedigrees, but many do not. It’s not an easy road being that creative and self expressive, but so glad there are still people in the world that lead the way and continue to do what they do despite all of the challenges.
I suppose in some small way (or big) why I ended up as a producer for a living. I like to make stuff. I like to be creative. I like others to enjoy something I have contributed to or stayed up all night helping put together. But as I watched these fashion types talk about BG in that reverential way, I’m wondering- what’s my Bergdorf Goodman? Where would I want my ashes scattered? What feeling in the world is equal to that fabulous shoe floor, where women come to spoil themselves day after day after year after year? Where could I be (all of these questions are for you, too by the way)that I won’t get tired of the pressure, the rush to top the year before when it comes to putting on a show like above (those windows with their paper sculptures, elaborate themes, and elegant genius), the ability to recognize true talent and then bring it to the world to see? I realize that my love of fashion is not just about buying expensive shoes or handbags- it’s the making of the stuff that really gets me excited, that makes my heart race- when I watch a runway show it’s the staging of the show, the energy, the beautiful clothes that get me- not necessarily the fact that I have to wear them. I think most of us will find our lives searching for our Bergdorf- our place that never disappoints or fails to challenge us to make something better, more beautiful, or more filled with blood, sweat, and above all, love.
And in one of my favorite lines from the movie, Linda Fargo says that the way they judge whether or not a collection can make in it BG is the following- when looking at a would be designer’s outfit and thinking of potential customers, you have to think “where is she going in that?” I think it’s a valid question- not just when it comes to clothes, but to life. Where are any of us going in that, when “that” is life? It begs the question…I’ve always adored helping people get dressed- it’s validating to me that people would want me to help them express themselves, so I can only imagine how it feels to put people in those fantastic clothes. It’s one of the few things I’m not cynical about in fact- regardless of how tired or jaded or exhausted I am, there’s something insanely energizing about fashion. It just gets me. It makes a girl (well, this girl anyway) feel good, and it's something I have always been able to share with my mother- through the years we have disagreed on many things but very much enjoy reading the September issue (of which she calls The Bible) together and looking at all the new clothes. Her mother had a clothing store in her own right and was one of the chicest women around, so I suppose it's just in my plasma.
So if you’re still reading this and wondering how I ended up not being a designer or illustrator or something creatively linked to my first love, fashion, the answer is: I have no idea. All I know is that somewhere when I was in my teenage years, I decided I would never be as good as my idols, could never dress those beautiful women of WWD, and would never sell my duds on the floor of Bergdorf Goodman (long before Wayne’s World, that persistent mantra of I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy just would not leave my brain). Somehow that dream slipped away, but perhaps now is the time for me, (and maybe you if you’re vibing on this) to ask myself- where are you going in that? It’s never too late to create and outdo and inspire. I feel blessed to be on this plane to Japan and make some amazing photos with one of my favorite teams- that’ll do for now but wow wouldn’t it be nice to live a life that way looking at a holiday window on a chilly afternoon at Bergdorf’s feels? People come from every walk of life to see those windows- and there's no way they won't change your focus for at least a few moments. Because regardless of what the outside world is throwing down, peering within these hallowed scenes is full of promise, genius, fantasy, and true artistry.
It’s never too late. And that’s what’s up this bless those who make stuff kind of Saturday over the friendly skies. I’ve got work to do, and I’m out. Oh, and ps. Barbra Streisand, walking into Bergdorf singing in that full length leopard maxi coat only to reveal that leather dress underneath only to throw on that insanely fabulous gold medallion of a necklace? Gets me every time. Because even though things did not go according to plan, I can always count on great style to make me smile from ear to ear. Beyond. Oh, and yea, fashion can be a superficial, trite, and evil business full of scary people giving you the stink eye. I prefer to think of it the way it’s portrayed at Bergdorf Goodman- full of wonder, excitement, and dreams. And for those of us who can’t afford to even think about that store, I guess we’ll have to make our own dreams, won’t we? Now why are you still here? Go find your Bergdorf's. I'm going to look for mine too, right here in Japan. XO
PS- since sleeping on planes not really an option for me, I watched "Funny Face" after the Bergdorf movie. What a fashion classic...between the two films and all of those September issues, I'm glad my insomnia felt so very chic.