You can find anything in the Garment district.

SO I own 3 fur coats.

‘cue the backlash’

Let me start by saying that they are all vintage (50+ years) and all handed down from my grandmother and great aunt. I DID NOT purchase new fur. These are heirlooms! BUT they also keep me warm when walking the frigid, wind tunneled streets of New York City in January. For those of you who don’t know, it gets REALLY cold here. Like bone-chilling cold.

Now that you don’t hate me for having fur coats…

A seam on one of the coats is ripping so I took it to my ‘fur guy’ last night. He is this older polish man (let’s call him Joe), with a heavy accent and kind heart, and he is the very best. My first experience with him was a few years back, when the collar to my Aunt’s 65 year old coat was deteriorating. I was so nervous to take this coat anywhere, even to wear it out for fear of something happening, but I swallowed my fear and went to get it fixed.

The vague google directions led me to this random wholesale store somewhere in the Garment district. Upon entering this room filled with tacky evening gowns (like many other stores in that area), I inquired where to go. When the owner said “the basement”, my 23 year old self realized I could be walking into a potentially very bad situation. Ignoring all my better instincts, I descended the steps into the basement, which was filled floor to ceiling with fur coats. There was not a surface that was clear save for the 1 foot wide walking path through the organized chaos. I was greeted by Joe, who immediately ushered me into his work-space.

He could tell I was nervous, but he took the coat from my arms and opened it to assess the damage. The rip was at the collar neckline, so in order to really see the problem, he had to take out the lining. You can imagine my panic as his assistant took a scissors to the lining, embroidered with my aunt’s name (a common detail of the time). As she peeled the fabric away to expose the inside hide, a 65-year old pattern was revealed.

~For your reference, when working with leather or fur, one must trace the paper pattern directly onto the hide. If you pin into leather, the hole will be forever visible.~

I gasped in awe at the markings inside the coat. I couldn’t believe that this has not been viewed in over 60 years when this coat was originally constructed. That’s a fashion designer’s treasure. I felt closer than ever to the woman who bought this coat, and wished I could glimpse what her like was like back in 1953. I often wonder if I was born in the wrong era.

Joe assessed the damage and decided it was easily fixed. He promised it would be good as new in a few days.

As he walked me out of the cluttered room, he paused to grab a fluffy white stole from a pile.

“Come.” he said, and motioned me to the floor length mirror. He draped the stole over my shoulders, looked me in the eyes and said “I will make you one for your wedding. You will be beautiful.”

I was floored by his kindness and thinking how perfectly this fit with my 1950’s daydream. This is not something that often happens in the present time.

I turned to him and replied, “it won’t be for a long, long time, but I look forward to it.”

There are vintage gems lurking in every corner of this city. You just have to dig to find them, but when you do, you discover a piece of history.

XOXO J

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Case of the Mondays

Mondays are always a challenge. Waking up early again after a nice relaxing weekend to start the week is never something I look forward to. Especially now when I have two snuggly kittens making it very difficult to move out of bed.
Monday morning was different (still hard to get up), but rather than going straight to work. I took a 1/2 day and went to a meeting first thing at a new office building. Its a super exciting opportunity at a company I have always wanted to work with. Seeing as its about 15 minutes closer to my apartment than my current office, I left with plenty of time, but expected an easy subway commute.
NOT.
About 15 minutes in to the ride my train gets stopped under the East River (I live in Queens) due to train traffic. I feel a small wave of panic wash over me, but quickly let it go as I still had plenty of time. A few more minutes go by when another announcement comes on that there is a sick passenger at 42nd street (let me remind you that I am still technically in queens). Cue the panic.
NYC subways are notoriously unreliable. Between train traffic, sick passengers, and signal problems, it’s a miracle we get anywhere.
Anyways, as I sat on the train practicing my meditative breathing (and receiving weird looks from other passengers and every inhale/exhale), I kept reminding myself that this situation was completely out of my hands. I obviously love being in control of everything, so being stuck with no wifi and nowhere to go was an anxiety attack waiting to happen.  When I finally reached the first stop in Manhattan, I raced out of the station, quickly calling someone to explain the situation, attempting to hail a cab (right in the middle of morning rush hour). Just to paint this picture, I was all dressed up and wearing 6″ heels running down Lexington Avenue. Perfect outfit for marathon training obviously.
Luckily there was a cab pulled over at a coffee cart, so I ran to him, arms flailing, yelling PLEASE TAKE ME. Jumping in, I ordered him to make for 50th and 7th Ave as fast as he possibly could. A nice, older gentleman, he understood the urgency of the situation, and proceeded to talk me down as we made our way to the drop-off point. Maybe there’s still hope for our city’s humanity,
In an end to this horrible commute, I made it to the meeting only 15 minutes late. In my mind, being late to anything important is an automatic fail, but then again some things are out of our control. I guess we will just wait and see what fate has in store for me with this opportunity. Happy Monday!

Xoxo -J