My Mom, The Fashion Fanatic
by Anita Sarko
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| Harold and Eleanor Sarko (parents of the bride), 1963. |
| Fashion was Eleanor Sarko's religion. She was a true believer whose faith was deep and unwavering. Its rules were to be followed without questioning their rationale. Its rigidity and sureness gave her strength, confidence and a deep sense of her own worth. Through its power, she was able to define and project who she was to the world. She felt secure in its grasp. It never failed to uplift her spirit, brighten her day and elevate her to a rapturous state of well-being. It never let her down. My maternal grandmother, Sylvia, a firm believer in the genius of Hattie Carnegie, indoctrinated both my mother and her younger sister Anne. Where they purchased Hattie Carnegie is Detroit, I haven't a clue. I only recall stories about appointments at some small glamorous shop with couches and private viewings.
Eleanor swore by American designers, though she bought back occasional items from trips to France, Italy and Asia. Her evening clothes were purchased at Cardinal, a posh shop near our home in Sherwood Forest, a section of northwest Detroit. I've recently discovered that Sherwood Forest has been deemed an historical district and Livernois, where Cardinal was (along with the dress shop, Nat Greene, owned by food writer Gael's dad), was Detroit's "Avenue of Fashion" for decades. I never knew that. For special occasions, Cardinal also dressed my sister and myself. Though Cardinal created custom-made designs, most of his clothing was from others, such as Norman Norell and Calvin Klein. No matter who the designer was, their labels were always removed and replaced with Cardinal's. Eleanor adored Norell, which made sense because he had been a protégée of Carnegie's. It was also at Cardinal that she constantly attended trunk shows. She was particularly taken by young Calvin, who she thought was SO cute. My sister and I were given license to shop and charge without supervision. The Sarko women bought so much that a Livernois sportswear store, Ferguson's (owned by the aunt and uncle of New York TV personality Jill Rappaport), sent huge boxes of new arrivals to our home for us to select from before they were put out on the floor. My mother paid for these purchases through the money she kept for herself from her “household allowance.” She often warned us to never tell our father about this little side fund because he wouldn't understand and might go into shock. My parents traveled a lot and, despite the slim offerings of Detroit's nightlife (the London Chophouse, the Caucus Club, the country club), they somehow ALWAYS went out. My BFF Linda and I loved to watch my mother swan down the winding staircase trailing furs and cologne, twinkling with beads and diamonds. We'd spend hours investigating Eleanor's giant cedar closet (the largest of her three walk-in closets), a magical kaleidoscope of colors, sparkle and luxuriant textures. I think we were among the VERY few Detroiters uninvolved in the fashion business who had a subscription to Women's Wear Daily. It could always be found topping the monthly issues of Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, Glamour, Mademoiselle, and Seventeen, stacked neatly on a shelf in our library. Through studying these bibles, Eleanor developed her ironclad rules: 1. Sequins are for tramps. Nice girls wear crystal beading. 2. Avoid sales: There's a reason why those items were originally rejected. 3. All labels should be replaced w/ the store's label. It's not nice to show off or namedrop. 4. Fur coats should always match one's hair color. The only two exceptions are sable and chinchilla. 5. After one year, all clothing must be replaced. The exceptions: Cashmere sweaters and purses. 6. Everything must create an outfit. 7. Summer clothing should be purchased during resort season. Resort wear is more stylish & less likely to be seen on others. 8. Never wear a necklace and earrings at the same time. 9. Remove and stitch up pant's pockets. Pockets ruin the lines and you shouldn't have your hands in them anyway. 10. Fitted skirts and dresses require panty girdles and should never cup the behind. Bras should be built into formalwear. 11. Black and purple are funeral colors and bad luck. 12. Vintage means “dead people's clothing.” They won't be allowed into the house because the spirits that they carry can't be controlled or trusted. 13. Eleanor had buzzwords for the unacceptable. Busy prints were dismissed as a “Polish Garden,” bold plaids were “Horse Blankets” and “Cousin Dinky” meant that one was over-accessorized. Sylvia's cousin was the genesis of this sin. Some fashion maven once advised the removal of one item before leaving one's house. Legend had it that Cousin Dinky would have required a U-Haul to rid herself of unnecessary geegaws. 14. Never buy clothing in Manhattan. They can tell you're a Midwesterner so they'll try to sell you last year's clothes. 15. Always shop alone: Girlfriends will sabotage you. 16. Doris Day, Lena Horne and Dinah Shore had flawless taste. |
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| NORMAN NORELL Crystal Beaded Silk Chiffon Column (Modeled by Alivia George), circa 1960s. This gown weighs nearly 40 lbs. I was told by my mother to avoid sitting, dancing and stairs as much as possible. I wore it once. It was exhausting. Inset: Detail of beadwork on Norell column. |
| I immediately broke every rule once I began college: Black, purple, vintage, SEQUINS, DENIM ... My choices traumatized her. Nevertheless, she padded my trust fund allotments with thousands of dollars extra for clothing. And, oddly, her favorite picture of me was from an invitation where I was wearing a transparent negligee with a garter belt and stockings. Go figure ... My big regret was that she became too ill to travel before I could take her to Fashion Week shows. I would have given ANYTHING to have had her experience presentations by Oscar de la Renta, Bill Blass or Badgley Mischka. I must admit I tear up at the thought of how happy it would have made her ... even if it was in MANHATTAN. |
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