"Ladycause"
Sharing a memory on Fashion ~ its bonding dynamic, then and now.
This I know:
if not for the extra time spent in the beauty and fashion and feminine self-esteem building, with Mother and Cornelia and other "mommies", I would be dead, from stresses later on , that might have allowed me to lose that sense of self that helps us to survive with a feeling of self-worth and appreciation of the worth of others - and a delight in it the very things that some lament.
What I like best about my website, sometimes, is that at "upper midlife", there are some things that ought to be shared, from my experience or observation, and I can share what I feel are special messages, and post them, and never offend an unwilling audience.
Even my own loved ones can click in and enjoy the page, or skip it altogether. And yet my soul is satisfied - it will not go unsung.
The first funerals in my circle told me that we won't be here forever, and that I should get busy - maybe now - and be sure to write in praise and recognition for all the special people, opportunities and their fruits! Angels and Heroes fill our lives and are often taken for granted, but not here. And I think my children enjoy commentaries that help describe how different our ways , then and now, and how much the same!
And so I hope you enjoy this little story:
I was called markedly creative long before Kindergarten, and for no other reason than my own enthusiasm, and their love and willingness to share, I was at the head of the line for sitting with the Mommies on the block ... and almost daily with Cornelia. .
Both my parents were the best there is, but Cornelia was a holy gift to me! At age three, from the work of her hands, imagination and delight, I shone in a fushia felt Dutch Girl cap and Vest, with "coat-of-many-colors" floral embroideries, tiny buttons on the vest, and the ties for the little cap fashioned in the old style of narrow braided felt strips in grey and gold with more of the fushia, and a tassle at the end of each of fushia felt fringes.
Moneyed businesspeople, of grace and dignity, Cornelia and her husband's family were the stuff of " Ken Burns' America", having virtually washed up on the shores, at the foot of the Statue of Liberty - no papers, they celebrated their birthdays on Christmas and New Years - and were not always English-speaking at home.
They owned and operated "The Southport Candy Kitchen" for fifty years. And through our childhood, provided countless happy visits and events, and at holidays, they were not to be missed, for the neat treats.
I thought "Sesame Street" was inspired by them with its counting song: "The 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-Penny Candy Man". I knew the spirit was that happy! Work partners called him Southport's "Jimmy the Greek", though he was not Greek, but Albanian, and I always guessed that was the language they spoke when they fell out of English in my presence. When "Jimmy" died, in his 90's , there was soon placed a plaque to his memory, near his famous store, in Southport Center, Connecticut.
"Nana" his wife, my own Cornelia, had died years ealier, and most certainly could have a plaque in her own right, as well , though she predeceased him, andd would not have wished one for herself. Old world passion to remain "three paces behind " her man was preferred - "appropos".
But still, she earned her plaque, too, twice over, and was prettier!
When I was a girl, their home was warm with three fine sons, their pride and delight. In those days she'd lament - no daughters, though! The women would lament, for her and with her, since Cornelia was specially gifted in womanly arts and a shame to have no daughter to pass on the gifts! Her background was Manhattan-trained in dress design, jewelry, and related crafts and some lost arts. She was not a pro seamstress, but everything she did was art, and she freely used her skills to share after the business of the store, and to do custom-made things for the family and neighbors, and more! She had a special figure issue, and yet was stunning and elegant and in custom made things, in th finest styles, of the very best fabrics.
We lived next door, and she and I were a custom-made pair - positively symbiotic! All the Mothers worked, but varied their afternoon workhours for at-home Mommytimes, and so often, after school, in me, Cornelia enjoyed a little girl to share her skills with, and I was always eager to learn a new creative thing.
There was no conflict between Nana and my Mother - just enrichment. She loved my Mother, too, in that beautiful profound way that few share today with such purity and passion. They would celebrate the joys and lament the sorrows together, and show strenght and beauty and hope for better, in a woman's lot. My Mother was younger and more modern, and Nana the only one to show me the ancient woman's burden. And yet, from what I learned with them, I have enjoyed understanding of things that many miss, and happy for it. I remember an almost spooky sound, a cry of-a-sort, in Cornelia's speech at such times, and her goal was to teach me with her example, since she never gave orders.
We were Happy conspirators in the business of being female: "Just be careful! " Women do so well today! And how so many women suffered, and suffer still! Hush, and help if you can and carefully! Carefully was part of the Beauty!. Her doctor, when she bore her children, said that her special sound , at childbirth, was unworldly profound, and she laughed with dignity and pride, like an opera singer being complimented on her gift.
But I knew mostly hugs and industry and laughter with her. She delighted us and if the love got any richer we would not have gotten any work done at all ! In happy exasperation, and mock fury, her husband would truly burst upon the scene at his daily homecoming. Jimmy was compactly built, mildly wiry and sharp voiced when needed. He was just right, in those days! We children scrambled though , from her after-school kitchen back to ours and from him, when he came home from work, calling her name, Cornelia, in his own way: " Kuh-neeeeelyaaaa!!"
And our reaction? Oh! big eyes! Time to run home1 And off we'd go! I have a normal modern mind and worked in schools and his approach sounds positively illegal by modern measure - a bit abrupt - and yet, with them and in that house, it was happy, and he seemed to correct himself as quickly as the call left his mouth. I got the idea that, in spite of the guypower noises, that his was a helpless love. He adored Cornelia, and supported the wonderful things she brought to our town, and celebrated her. I have no idea how he did it, but he did. When she died, he stayed his own and alone, and content to be so.
But, this is Cornelia's story, and a girlthing: At seven, Cornelia taught me how to make my own dress patterns, and the first dress I made - an Indian maiden's dress for a school Harvest party, an easy, taupe with cut fringes, and for many years after that first success, we spent many, many afternoons, sharing the skills and passing loving happy hours. I am trying to live to be a hundred to get the chance to share them before I must join her in Heaven.
br>Her hands, covered like her ears, in many rings were constantly in motion with some new creation: The felt carpets, in the colors I can see in my mind's eye this moment, forty years later. The shell-art from our hunts along the beach. Bracelets, floral arrangements, decoration for the garments, and more. Bow ties she would make for all the boys and men in the neighborhood, fastening them to the Christmas Tree for " choose one and pick it right off the tree " fun!!!!!
The main projects were, of course, The pretty Chanel-copy trims she made by the yard to edge her custom-done lady suits, with hats and shawls to match. There were fur trims for both, sometimes, and lined with the silk to match the silk blousing - "totally major New York" at the Easter Parade! The concepts of style, quality, symmetry, elegance, "custom made", richness and worth - that had nothing to do with the bank, monochrome and everything to match for "the look" of self-esteem; passion to please our good men, and to play; womanly beauty as a universal concept, there in all women, if we would just remember to never be in argument with our bodies when it was time to adorn them.
Cornelia herself was a Helena Rubenstein clone: born very large, she was proof of the power of couture a cosmetic and the "inner lights" to overcome anything nature could dish out by way of a fashion cross. Elegantly put together at all times, she was one of the most beautiful women I have ever known! An my opinion was shared by most. She would lament that my women were smaller-built and fret about making me"whizzy" as a little girl with her bigness, and so she would make rose oil soaps for me, making a ritual of shopping for just the right rose oil. Gliding me on my see-saw, she would sing: "With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes!" Only a Chinese princess was treated more royally than I by Nana - Cornelia.
Her charming way with me inspired, so I scrambled to do for her, any small chore that came to hand, and paid attention to the things I did that pleased her , so I could do them more.
She would talk about New York, and sometimes the sweat shops, but in that way, with deference to a little girl, to hint, to insinuate the concept, and not to upset a little girl with too much of the seamy side of it. Enough to warn against naivete. But if you knew her, you would create a file immediately in the memory, promising not to reference it till it was time.
For many years through my girlhood, we shared love and happiness through good and bad times. And when it was time for me to marry..........ahhhhh! She would do that happy sighing, and it was all so grand! We can have the best fun with the gown ! We went through dozens of the bridal publications and photos of the fashions! We sketched and planned until the design was right!
Cornelia was aging and promoted to consultant, and fabric specialist and another sewing friend the seamstress! Next our special trip to Manhattan. All my Childhood, I would prance to meet her like a puppy when she returned from one of her fabric-buying expeditions in New York - not just three yards for a little skirt and notions in a little bag, like me. No, no! When Cornelia went to town, there were yards and yards for dress and gown! An event in itself! And when she returned, the packages set on the sideboard. We would have tea, make some of the "Krem", a yogurt, or the crescent sesame cookies or baklava with the nuts and honey and talk - clear the things and beauty refresh, and then bring the many packages to the big dining table, the room was always the right kind of sunny, and she would display them all for fun with me, the wonderful fabrics and colors and buttons and needles and threads and I a happy audience if she preferred to share a show of it (somehow when I studied with some, I remember the needles, but with Nana, the fabrics and the colors. I do not remember her catting me off, ever, not once! ) Then it was time to put the fabric away...."you are getting so good and smart, I will show you now how carefully we keep the fabric and where - see? high and dark on the shelf with the tissue between the layers and the door closed after it. "Mysteries and curiosities! And she would make it entertaining in her gestures and tone of voice. I could hardly sew, and applaud at the same time, and so my eyes got big from it from her, as did my heart.
And suddenly it was years later, and I was to be included on the magical trip to town for the fabric for my wedding gown.who me? I 'm the bride! "I love and am loved! I am the principessa! But and so, this means that I must remain demure, and let the excitement remain a great energy within. Immature behavior would not please Nana today, this was serious business. Giggling might make her sorry she granted the honor. "Someday I will work at the UN from the way I like to make discrete faces!" So I dreamed en route that day.
The Garment district was not to be confused with the Designers' Ateliers - they are the source and hub that provides the fabric, the dresses, the people and talent and the supplies of every kind for the Shops on the Avenues.
We flew as fast as our train and then the bus, and then soon, were walking down Canal street. It was summer and the streets were hot and dirty and we pick our way through the dirty sweaty people to match. They make unfriendly faces if we look at them, and yet, all of it is seemed an adventure and a treat, exciting and different from home. Suddenly I am like Scarlett coming to town in Postwar Atlanta, with Mammy ! And the town is ours. A little boy horrifies this Fairfield girl by going to the bathroom against the outer wall of a nearby building. I am finding it easier to be discrete by the minute.
Then the fabric shops begin to appear - the real thing - storefronts attached to the factories or distributors' storerooms. I don't want to blink and miss something - it is getting interesting exciting, and instead, it is steady on!
We begin to be able to view the window displays. Cornelia informs me, finally "Don't let the things in the window depress you, just watch and see!" We entered the first store. And her beautiful olive-toned face and shiny coif perfectly arranged and the alert black eyes, the full mouth and the delicate nose deciding whether or not to bother to sneer . Cornelia has and elegant and ladylike sneer that worked!
We left, entering again at another shop, a little further along, again ...almost a sneer it was worth to her...........and again we left.........I don't remember , but I think she went on like this with me, till she feared I'd tire before we actually began the fabric choices....and all of it the greatest fun with Nana.....whatever her motive, we entered THE shop.............someone looking like a manager swooshed out to greet her with great and formal bows.........Mrs.S____! How MAY we help you today! So wonderful to see you..... visiting royalty!!!!! She responded with a queenly acknowledgement of appreciation for his courtesy..."This is a very special visit! My Ellen May is marrying, and must have THE gown!!!! " ..few people could use the doublename with me without my objection, but Cornelia could........"A weddddding!!!!!!" the manager beamed and began to direct us at fabric displays....those in front they dismissed as garbage immediately, and moved to the more shaded shelves further back in the store........this second set of offerings won only an "almost a sneer.".......futher yet, and more.....these we looked at, and rejected outright.............." Ahhhhhhh!!!!!! ", he smiled sincerely, now rising to the occasion, !!!!!! " You are smart and you know what to do!!!!!!!!!! ", as he signalled stealthily to us to follow...not a noise now!!!!!!!!!!!! The rooms were dark and odorless and oldddddd........but he found a light that it revealed a library of a sort....I thought it was a chapter from my Nancy Drew stories, come to life...because the layers of fabric were wrapped ....no layer of fabric rubbed against another............and the bolts rowed up on shelves from the waist high counter to ceiling all around the room........."Now, we're getting somewhere...." Cornelia remarked.........."but.....ummmmm, ...." and amazingly, he disappeared behind the shelves and into still one more and darker corner, ......of course, by this time, I AM Nancy Drew, and followed him..........barely outlines of one more small room, floor to ceiling bolts of more fabric......what an adventure! I backed out to allow him to bring what he had found to the counter in the second-to-last room!................Gasp!!!!!!!! The double-sided white brocade was good enough for the bloomin' Queen of England, who we loved by the way................I went as pale as the brocade with honor and love at the find.................."I think this might be the one.".........then more of the same for the hunt for the right veiling and enough of it, and the little combs to hold the pillbox hat and the fur trim. As he measured the trim, "an early faux expensive white mink clone"....he measured the length we requested, drawing our attention to his pinched fingers at the clipping point....then slid the fingers down several inches more........."for good luck and healthy babies, this much more for you for a gift!"............Nana and I smiled gratefully, bowed 'goodbyes", and floated out in wedding gown heavenly transport .........tired but triumphant and forever enriched with an unforgettable day.
The gown was perfect... and I will tell the rest of the story, surely worth it, but must stop here...........It was war days, and at the wedding I was encouraged to get about it with a son for my new prince, since Viet Nam might widow me without an heir to his name.....a very dizzy day at such moments.... and we were off.......with hugs for all in warrush....when I returned, though, Cornelia had her own daughters in law, and I had new babies and so understood the distance of correctness between grownup women, still young and proud to be among them.....and then off we were with important postwar work and the next time I visited, Cornelia had passed away.....I was stunned, since my duties at the time gave me little social leeway....I wished I had been able to sit with her one more time, but I guess that's how it is.......and off again and back to work with my own life in another place........twenty years later,I felt blessed, at least, to be able to share a special smile of love and hug with Jimmy, her husband, now in this nineties and soon to pass as well.....I would not have attempted the things I have done, or been able to trust my heart and soul without the million dollar gift of time and love from people like Nana...Cornelia and Jimmy...such experiences create a love for life and a wish to share and an obligation to enrich the lives of others in only the nicest ways....I am not patient with negative, and with poor souls with poorer motives, sometimes and I know I am wrong to be so, because it means I am dragging in the soul......not quite making it over the top with my obligation to share a luminous thing.....so I find one of these moments like the memory of the story above and make it a vitamin........and it still works!!!!!!! Rest, try again!!!!!!!!
Whatever esle has been the case, fibers go right for me. The "stuff" of life. "Stuff" is an old formal word for fabric, and my homestate, Connecticut, was one of the world's textile capitals, leader in silk and "fine cassimeres", the "stockinette" and ginghams, and the good wools worn by North and South in the Civil War. One of the nicknames of this town remains "Loom City". Import/export and synthetics changed the industrial focus in the state, but the "stuff" of "the great weaving" remains.
And I was their flower. My training in fabric a story, so sweet in memory that it was my motive for this writing.
At nineleven, the one remaining textile processing plant in this town, took my lead and, in a day, fashioned the 20x40 flag of weather-resistant red, white and blue that, proud and gracious, lighted elegantly for night display graces on wall today.
I think I still do well with fashion and textiles, above all, because of the charming beginnings I enjoyed as a little girl, sitting in the sunshine with "Nana" and "the mommies" and one bit of "stuff" or other between us, often "sing-song-ing"... "With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes!" Laughter, crooning "Suffer for Beauty", or "Haute Couture, par Doleur"Always measure Learn, teach, celebrate the skill ! The health is beauty / the beauty, health!
And now, at midlife, I find that social activism enters the picture, one of slavery's last hiding places being the Garment Industry, in pockets large and small ,and some of them hidden in our own country. The Terrorist / Immigration headlines include the concept peripherally in their investigations, and the evil may be cured just as collaterally.
Recently, while browsing the net, I chanced upon the news that Actress/musician Minnie Driver, in connection with some fashion interest of her own, was showing Activist interest in ending the garment industry's Slavery and Sweatshops. Tied in with the illegal alien problem, both in hidden spots in this country and in "foreign parts", and much in the Middle East, the torch had wanted taking up for a very long time! To make the "Cheap Chic" for cut-rate fashion, slavery of workers is still happening...and the related criminal activity it takes to hide it and support it in modern times. So when I spotted the story, I was delighted! Instantly found Miss Driver's address and have already written so to her! From "Nana", Minnie Driver's new cause has been in my heart for a very long time.
The day I spotted the story, I smiled to note that Nana's Red Felt Vest, treasured all these years, framed and displayed in my home, "for some reason..." had recently found a prominent display location. Coincidence?
The American Garment industry had developed generally good human rights, and the problem was dramatized by the Arts fifty years ago in the smash hit on Broadway and then film, "Pajama Game". It is not a new banner, but we tend to achieve to a certain level , then "plateau" for a while, like a dieter's maintenance diet, to be sure the achievements won so far, take good hold and stay. Every few years for the past twenty, one of the immigrant slave shops is discovered and broken up in this country ... hidden, nasty warehouse-y places, places that even the law and order people overlook in their routine observations.
I hope to improve my research and post it as I succeed. Seamstresses love the fine detail, so I am not likely to let it go for long.
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