So, it came as no surprise to me that Loehmann\u2019s has finally, officially gone bankrupt, 93 years since Frieda Loehmann and her son opened the first store in 1921\u2014the same year my Nana, Goldie Block, emigrated to the United States from Lutsk, Ukraine. I doubt my late Nana would shed a tear, as the store became barely recognizable from the two Brooklyn Loehmanns\u2019 she spent much of her adulthood and savings on, searching through their racks of marked-down designer duds.<\/p>\n
Nana passed away in 2001 at the age of 90, shortly after Loehmann\u2019s first rescue from Chapter 11. Her move to Manhattan in the \u201880s effectively ended her Loehmann\u2019s shopping, but her Upper East Side closets overflowed with her finds — everything from cashmere sweaters to silk blouses and Glenn plaid blazers. She mostly favored Manhattan colors, like black, ivory, grey, and earth tones, with an occasional emerald green or leopard pattern tossed in for fun.<\/p>\n
Nana honed her flair for fashion as a dress buyer for a Manhattan clothing boutique after dropping out of school at 13 to help her family of eight stay afloat. Although by 19 she made more money than my CPA grandfather ($15 a week to his $12) when they wed, she quit working to be supported by her husband and to raise their two children.<\/p>\n
With her marriage cutting short her career as a dress buyer, but her interest in fashion never waning, Nana made a part-time vocation of trips to Loehmann\u2019s several times a month, often coming home empty-handed but energized. Loehmann\u2019s was about the hunt, not necessarily the kill, and Nana was a bounty hunter. \u201cYou have to hit it on the right day,\u201d my Mom, who spent much of her teenage years in Loehmann\u2019s with Nana, explained, emphasizing the rules of luck. \u201cAnd you can\u2019t be looking for something in particular.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nana apparently hit it on many right days. While my quiet, understated Grandfather had a few suits, shirts, pants, and neckties, often stained with chicken soup or Sanka, relegated to the guest bedroom closet, Nana\u2019s closets were filled with meticulously-kept garments from Loehmann\u2019s with the label almost\u2014but not fully\u2014cut off, so an expert shopper like herself could detect who the couturier was. If you looked closely at the labels, you would see the \u201cGeo\u201d of Geoffrey Beene inside the waistline of her wool skirt, a DK indicating Donna Karan on the necks of flouncy silk blouses. Even more thrilling, a confident cursive \u201cOsc\u201d on a shredded label meant Oscar de La Renta!<\/p>\n
Nana would model some of her Loehmann\u2019s trove decades after her purchases. \u201cSee this camel hair coat, doll,\u201d she\u2019d say, pulling it on, checking her reflection in the mirror, expertly wrapping a cashmere scarf around her neck, then wrapping one around mine as a gift, as we headed out for lunch at a deli, smiling, still thrilled. \u201cI got this at Loehmann\u2019s twenty years ago. Forty dollars! It\u2019s a Calvin Klein!\u201d she\u2019d shake her hips from side to side.<\/p>\n
\u201cWow,\u201d I\u2019d marvel, glancing at my pretty hand-me-down scarf.\u00a0 Then she would stuff a handful of Nips coffee parfait hard candies into my pocket, which, when cracked open, oozed out soft chocolate and invariably stuck to my teeth for the next several hours. \u201cIt\u2019s good for you,\u201d Nana laughed. \u201cGives you energy!\u201d<\/p>\n
Nana\u2019s Loehmann\u2019s hunting expeditions began long before Calvin Klein was even Calvin Klein. My mother remembered taking the subway with Nana from their Midwood home to Crown Heights where they would head over to the original Loehmann\u2019s on the corner of Bedford Avenue and Sterling Place. Despite the bargain prices, the store attempted to make customers feel like society ladies, with marble floors and crystal chandeliers and a grand staircase with golden railings where Frieda Loehmann often presided on a gilded red velvet chair on the landing between the two floors. \u201cMrs. Loehmann looked like a ghost with a bun,\u201d my mother said, \u201cShe\u2019d sit there and observe the women coming to shop.\u201d Occasionally, my grandfather would get dragged along and sit in an arm chair on the same landing, dozing or reading the paper with the other husbands waiting for the hunt to end, far enough away from the women who, lacking the communal dressing rooms of future Loehmanns\u2019, would undress and try things on out in the open of the store\u2019s aisles.<\/p>\n
My mother continued the mother-daughter tradition of shopping at Loehmann\u2019s with my older sister and me. The Crown Heights store closed before I was born, but Mom drove us over to the newer shop on Flatbush Avenue and Duryea Place, which was not nearly as grand as the original. Most of the action was on the first floor, which was sprawling and brightly lit with fluorescent lights. The items were organized by size, although a seasoned shopper knew to check out sections out of her size category for mismarked items.<\/p>\n
While the store lacked the antiques that Frieda had gold-leafed on Duryea Place, it did boast a bare bones, (pun intended), communal dressing room. The room had one curtained entry guarding the shoppers from the outside, a ratty carpet on the floor with the occasional open safety pin to stab your foot, and hooks and mirrors surrounding the space. I learned about the wide variety of female forms, and was forced to overcome any adolescent shyness about my own, from Loehmanns\u2019 dressing room where women of all ages and sizes \u201clet it all hang out,\u201d in (or out) of their bras, girdles and panty hose, sometimes grabbing discarded clothing from other womens hooks. At first I tried modestly sneaking pants I hoped would fit, say, under my skirt and carefully removed my top while at the same time twisting my way into a blouse. \u201cWe\u2019re all girls in here, Susie,\u201d my mother pointed out, too loudly. Women I had never met would wander over in their underwear to view my finds and comment on them, \u201cThat sweatah makes you look, um, a little flat.\u201d One woman lingered as I tried on a pale blue seersucker jacket for my summer job in Manhattan, waiting to pounce if I left it behind. \u201cI\u2019m taking that,\u201d I said, grabbing the jacket, as Mom and I speed walked to the cashier.<\/p>\n
Mom, my sister and I spent most of our time on the first floor unless we had a wedding or Bar Mitzvah to shop for in the fancy \u201cBack Room,\u201d upstairs. Some of my favorite finds included Anne Klein linen tees, a flowing Ralph Lauren chintz sundress in black, gold and forest green, and a pale blue denim jean jacket with \u201880s shoulder pads that my husband finally convinced me to purge, long after the decade had ended.\u00a0 I modeled the jean jacket one more time. \u201cWhat? I look like a member of Duran Duran?\u201d He nodded, holding open the empty bag for Goodwill.<\/p>\n
Difficulty getting rid of items from Loehmann\u2019s was just one neurosis from years of shopping there. I wanted to be like Nana and keep my \u201cclassic\u201d items for decades, to save myself the expense and hassle of shopping for new things later on. \u201cThe style might come back,\u201d I\u2019d protest. \u201cIt\u2019s a Perry Ellis,\u201d I\u2019d sniff.\u00a0 My other hang-up was an inability to shop retail at all<\/em>. For years after Loehmann\u2019s was geographically inaccessible, I would skip over new items in stores from Banana Republic to Bloomingdale\u2019s. Paying full price felt shameful. Nana would not approve. Frantically sifting through the 50 to 75 percent off rack even in years when I could afford more, I would return home with oddly-sized or colored items that did not necessarily fit. In my mind, I had scored!<\/p>\n These shopping shticks became firmly entrenched after years of hunting at Loehmann\u2019s with Mom who, although skilled, did not have Nana\u2019s innate \u201ceye\u201d for style. Occasionally, my mother turned the pressure up if she felt there was something that I \u201cmust\u201d buy. She talked me into a purple rabbit fur coat with harlequin diamonds sewn into the fur and huge shoulder pads that I wore in college on cold days. I looked like a cross between a linebacker and a pimp.<\/p>\n In spite of her sometimes questionable style choices, most of my memories of shopping at Loehmann\u2019s with my mother were happy. And the store connected me to my grandmother in a way that I had felt left out of as a little girl. Nana had four sisters—Gertrude, Millicent, Diane and Mildred–and being with them was like hanging out with the Gabor sisters\u2014Brooklyn style. Each sister was glamorous and opinionated, particularly about clothing and looks. It was quite difficult to get a word in edgewise\u2014\u201call chiefs and no Indians,\u201d was how Mildred, the youngest, described them.<\/p>\n \u201cMildred, that red bathing suit makes you look like a tomato,\u201d Nana opined at one family gathering-cum-fashion show, taking a long drag on her cigarette, as Diane, the \u201cworking girl,\u201d of the sisters, nodded in agreement. Mildred\u2019s cheeks reddened to the suit\u2019s color.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think it makes me look like a tomato at all, Goldie. It\u2019s a Norma Kamali,\u201d Mildred stomped away to change.<\/p>\n Nana shrugged, smoke pouring out of her nose. \u201cNorma Kamali\u2026 Looks more like a Norma Ka-naidlach.\u201d<\/p>\n Loehmann\u2019s was so much a part of the dialogue of the women in my family, that at 10 years old, I mistakenly told Nana and her sisters that I bought my party dress for my grandfather\u2019s 80th<\/sup> Birthday dinner, at Loehmann\u2019s.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere did you say you got that, Susie?\u201d Mildred asked, feigning innocence but grinning.<\/p>\n \u201cUm, Loehmann\u2019s?\u201d I answered, feeling my neck getting hot, and glancing at my mother, busy eating her steak.<\/p>\n I immediately realized my mistake at Nana, Mildred and Diane\u2019s riotous laughter. I had mixed up the name with another (full retail) department store that began with an L, Lord and Taylor.<\/p>\n Now the closest I come to continuing the mother-daughter tradition with my nine year-old daughter, Lily, is the occasional trip to Century 21, another clothing discounter. I am thankful that I can still share the fruits of Nana\u2019s expertise and my own Loehmann\u2019s hunts. My daughter, who enjoys fashion as much as her great grandma, recently admired a 1990s shiny, black satin Bill Blass coat that I sometimes wear on special occasions. \u201cOooh,\u201d Lily said, running her hand over its shiny fabric. Oddly enough, the coat still has its label intact. The inside of the coat is made of informal, soft blue fleece, but the quilty outside reminds me of glamorous boudoir robes women used to wear over lingerie. I\u2019m protected from the elements, but clearly dressed up.<\/p>\n
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