Dress Me Up
The first time I saw my apartment, it was in the very early stages of renovation. The kitchen had been gutted, so the old oven was sitting amidst the rubble in the living room, and I could still see the old orange paint on the inside of the front door, beneath the primer that had been half-heartedly applied. The broker assured me that everything was going to be top-notch once the new appliances and cabinets and paint were in place. And despite how things looked at that moment, I could imagine it. For one thing, no amount of rubble could disguise the size of the kitchen, which was probably twice as big as anything else I’d seen in Manhattan. Now if only they could make that half-bath in the kitchen into a closet…
I signed on the dotted line on the spot, and everything did turn out great (other than that tiny half-bath). But I have a little more trouble imagining great things when it comes to trying on clothing samples. I absolutely love made-to-measure clothing; anyone who’s read this blog knows about my obsession with Lainey Keogh. (And I’m expecting the embroidered cardigan I ordered at the December trunk show any day now!) It’s not quite the Paris couture experience, but hey, I’m also not out $20,000. (Well, not for just one item, anyway!)
So anyway, I was recently introduced to a designer who has a made-to-order line, with new styles and fabrics for each new season. I went to her place to have a look at the collection, which was lovely, but I soon realized the customized aspect of this type of shopping was the best part and the worst part of it. There were very few samples that came close to fitting me, so it took a bit of pinning here and there by the assistant and a lot of squinting by me to approximate how the style might look on me. A lot of the samples were just a lost cause — I mean, how can you tell if a pair of pants several sizes too big would look good on you in the correct size? It’s not completely a failure of imagination on my part (and god knows I will be ordering a few pieces!) but I had to laugh when I was trying to eyeball how a dress might look with higher heels and I was offered a pair of Manolos three sizes too big. Just smudge some lipstick all over my mouth and pile on the blue eyeshadow and I’m right back in my mom’s closet playing dress-up!
The moral of the story is that if there should ever come a day when I can finally afford to have a couture outfit made, I also will have had to find a way to grow a few inches taller! Hopefully, the likelihood of the former is not as low as the likelihood of the latter…
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March 20th, 2006 19:08
In 1988, I mail-ordered bespoke cowboy boots. I chose about fifteen specs, including heel shape, height, toe shape, leather, and stitching. I measured my feet with a silly paper tape measure, drew an outline of them, crammed all my specs into an envelope and crossed my fingers. Seven white-knuckled weeks later, my boots arrived, and they fit perfectly. I still have them, and they still fit. I ordered another pair two years ago, and the fit was perfect again–the company had kept my last for all those years! (Paul Bond boot company, Nogales Arizona.) It was well worth it.
You can visualize how this new designer’s bespoke clothes will fit you because you have the power, and you know how to take a leap of faith. You visualized your apartment, didn’t you? And anyway, the brilliance of bespoke is that adjustments are made all the way through the process to protect against ill-fitting fiascos. Bon chance!
March 22nd, 2006 01:03
Very cool! I always like to have faith… and in fact, I just ordered two dresses and a coat! (Much easier to visualize than those trousers…) So I’ll let you know in about three weeks how they turn out!
March 22nd, 2006 18:58
I can’t wait to hear!