JUST LIKE MADELINE

My sister Denise and I with our Grandma Jean, in Easter capes made by our Grandma Lydia (of course).  I just recently noticed how much our outfits resemble those of a certain French girl in one of my favorite storybooks.  Happy Easter!Source URL: https://thesoap-box.blogspot.com/search/label/style%20icons
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THE STORY OF CINDERELLA

Growing up, whenever my sister and I would ask our parents how they met, my father would respond with a version of my mother's favorite fairy tale. Here is my recounting of this family lore, which I wrote as a gift for my parents many years ago.  As to what of the story is truth and what is fiction ... well, perhaps that shall be revealed in the Comments section on Valentine's Day.  Enjoy, Mom & Dad.  Happy Anniversary.


~ The Story of Cinderella ~
Once upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a Prince. No one knew he was a Prince, and since his town was very Plain, with not much of a View, one would not think it much of a kingdom. But the Prince knew one day he would be a mighty King and so he contented himself with cleaning the town pool and working hard and studying hard and playing sports quite ruthlessly, and in all got through his days … but something was missing.

Now in the same town there lived a young woman who led a happy but harsh existence. Both her parents worked all day, so it was she who had to toil over a hot stove cooking the dinner, she who had to vacuum and wash and dust and scrub and care for her dog, Ginger. And on top of all that she had to study her schoolwork and practice her cheerleading and endure the indignity of a part-time job at the local dry cleaner. She did, however, have four sources of joy: dancing at teen club, painting her long nails a different color every day to match her dress, sun bathing at the town pool and flirting with boys.

At all of these things she was very good, but particularly the last; and dozens of boys would surround her when she sun bathed. (She never swam, maybe just a dip now and then, but nothing that would get her thick mane of—quite honestly mousy—brown hair wet.) In fact, so many boys surrounded her that she never even noticed the Prince.

And so the days passed and the nights ended and the weeks wore on, until one sticky summer night, the Prince was sweeping out the locker rooms and he came upon a sneaker. A single woman's sneaker, alone and somewhat soiled. He looked about for its mate. He looked in the lockers, above the lockers and below the lockers; he looked in the pool and around the pool; in the trash bins, under the picnic tables, even in the showers. All to no avail. So the Prince went to search the town and find the owner of the sneaker.

One would think that a Prince had better things to do with his time than wander around finding the owner of a dirty sneaker. But this Prince was quite methodical and liked everything to be organized. Most of all, he abhorred people who did not complete what they began.

So off he went, to every house in the Plain town with no View. Being a very handsome Prince, he was welcomed into the homes of every young girl; and being quite charming when he wanted to, every girl tried to fit the dingy sneaker. (Even though some secretly turned up their noses at something so ordinary and unjeweled. "Dahling, how could you put that schlock on your feet?" they asked each other when he left.)

After days and days of this the Prince finally came to a simple but tidy house with a lawn like a carpet and marvelous curtains. He knocked on the door, and who should answer but our sun-tanned, nail-painted beauty.

"My brother's upstairs," she said immediately to the Prince, thinking him one of her brother's buddies, "and I'm in a tither because I'm going dancing and I can't find my sneaker!"

Whereupon the Prince produced the sneaker, which fit the young woman perfectly, and the two fell instantly in love. She blew off her dancing date (with a boy who also happened to have been the Prince's good friend; oh well!) and married the Prince.

The two were very young, and some said very foolish, but the Prince was so Charming and the young woman fancied herself as living her favorite fairy tale, Cinderella (even, at one point, injudiciously dyeing her hair bright blonde), and after years of toil the Prince did indeed become a King (of Accounting) and Cinderella grew wonderful flowers and vines, and many riches came their way, including two wonderful daughters, two suave son-in-laws, two adorable granddaughters, and many good friends.

All in all, one could say they live happily ever after.
 Photo of my parents, John & Lorraine, at a high school dance from family archives.
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ON THE BANKS OF THE BEAVERKILL

A white wooden structure intended only as a weekend retreat, the house rests on the banks of the Beaverkill, in the cool blue shadow of the Catskill Mountains. From the porch, through the haze of the wire mesh screen, you can see past the narrow road to the tangled banks of the river and then across the shallow gray water to the brown blur of the far bank. My great-grandfather used to fish in that water, wading all day in his thigh-high boots. I never actually saw him fish, but I think of him that way because of one of his paintings. The painting shows him (disproportionately large because he was not skilled at drawing people) in his black boots; spread out behind him are a lime green manicured lawn, a sturdy entrance arbor blooming with morning glories, and the house: neat, compact, pristine white.

His wife, the great-grandmother I call Aunt Alice, does not appear in the painting. But I have my own picture of her, the picture I see whenever I read one of her letters. I see a small, smiling woman who bakes banana bread and then brings me out into a dewy purple morning to feed peanuts to the burnt orange chipmunks that gather daily on her stoop. One of them nibbles from her hand. Behind us the kitchen glows like melting butter.


I first wrote those paragraphs 20 years ago and I've been thinking about them since starting this blog.  Alice was my step-great-grandmother, which could seem three steps too removed except it was not.  She remains vivid in my mind and alive in my home in so many ways.  Her china--some gold-rimmed, some swirled white--fills my cupboards and gets used every day.  The cast iron skillet from her yellow kitchen is, hands down, the best piece of cookware I've ever used.  And the sense of place I carry from that small white cottage continues to influence my thoughts on home.Source URL: https://thesoap-box.blogspot.com/search/label/style%20icons
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BAUBLES, BUTTONS & BEADS

 


In eight decades of sewing, my grandmother amassed thousands of bolts of fabric, miles of thread and cartons of buttons and beads. Although I cannot sew a stitch, I kept a small stash after Lydia passed away. Often I use her simpler ribbons and laces to wrap gifts. Some treasures I won't part with though--like those above. They're just too beautiful and too saturated with memories to give up.




Photo by Doreen Creede
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FABRIC & FAMILY

Genovese nuns taught my grandmother, Lydia, to sew at the age of five. I am not making this up. From then on she embroidered, knitted, crocheted. She created patterns, designed theatrical costumes, fashioned wedding gowns and produced what can only be described as couture teddy bears (mine wears taffeta and a real fox stole). She sewed drapes, curtains, slipcovers, evening gowns, coats, men's suits, women's suits, skirts, pants, prom dresses, tablecloths, aprons. I can think of nothing she did not know about fabrics, dress-making, linings, zippers, buttons and bows. She and my grandfather, John, were by no means rich, but growing up my mother had a matching coat for every dress. Often on special occasions Lydia sewed my mother into an outfit moments before Lorraine had to walk out the door. As little girls, my sister and I had the wardrobe of princesses--matching wool capes, long pink pleather raincoats and rain hats, faux fur jackets--in which to romp around Bayside, Queens.

Despite her ability to conjure magic from material, Lydia most often could be found wearing plain black pants, a zip-up sweatshirt and not a speck of makeup. And if you asked her about her greatest love she wouldn't say fashion, the stuff of which she lived and breathed every day. Or fabric, bolts of which filled rooms of her home from floor to ceiling. She would say family, which mattered to her more than anything in the world. If that's not a style icon, I don't know what is.Source URL: https://thesoap-box.blogspot.com/search/label/style%20icons
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LYDIA & VALENTINO

Oh how I wish my Grandma Lydia, seamstress extraordinaire, could have seen this film. Valentino: The Last Emperor offers an intimate, honest and touching look at how a genius' vision and a lifelong partnership can, when all the stars align, combine to make sublime, yet completely wearable works of art that in the end serve one simple purpose: to make women beautiful.

Throughout the movie Valentino amuses, his partner Giancarlo Giammetti charms, their lifestyle wows, their 45-year reign at the pinnacle of fashion amazes. But head seamstress Antonietta de Angelis steals my heart. With her meticulous perfectionism, incredible knowledge and talent, salty personality and unaffected style she could just have easily been Lydia Panini Gatto. At one point, while viewing an ethereal white gown that's practically a character in the movie, Valentino turns to Antonietta and says, "Look. Look at your masterpiece." Even the emperor knows to give credit where it's due.

DIVA DVD: Valentino: The Last Emperor. Watch the DVD Special Feature "The Red Dress" for a wonderful in-depth look at producing a couture creation.

Video via You Tube/3DollarBillCinema. Photo via valentinomovie.com.Source URL: https://thesoap-box.blogspot.com/search/label/style%20icons
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SUMMER STYLE

This ranks as one of my favorite photos ever. No surprise really, since it's a shot of my grandmother, Jean Naughton, who happens to be one of my ultimate style icons--and was also my very good friend. Jean knew how to wear a dress (and a bathing suit); work a camera; talk books, politics, and romance; enjoy a good Scotch and an uproarious laugh; charm any man in sight and make everyone around her feel touched by a bit of glamour, even if they were just sitting in the Plainview, Long Island Republican Club at midnight --or a city beach at high noon. With Jean in mind, Style Maniac kicks off a month celebrating Summer Style wherever you happen to be: city, shore or even indoors.Source URL: https://thesoap-box.blogspot.com/search/label/style%20icons
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EVERYDAY STYLE TIP: Dance In Your Rollerskates

Dull people a dull party make. If you haven't noticed yet, I'm all for silliness and fun, no matter what your age. Clearly it's an inherited trait. That's my Grandma Jean leading myself and my sister, Denise, in a roller skate romp around our tiny Queens apartment, circa very early 1970s. Her husband, my Grandpa John, and my Grandma Lydia cheer us on in the background.

And speaking of family ... Style Maniac is off to a Memorial Day wedding weekend with the Creede clan. Enjoy your holiday. "See you" next week.Source URL: https://thesoap-box.blogspot.com/search/label/style%20icons
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PRETTY IN PINK

Style Maniac is off for a long weekend. I leave you with this Easter Sunday snapshot of my sister, Denise, and me (on right) circa late 1960s. Our Grandma Lydia, seamstress extraordinaire, created our matching pink coats. And ooh were we working those white accessories!

Enjoy the holiday. See you next week.Source URL: https://thesoap-box.blogspot.com/search/label/style%20icons
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HOLLYWOOD ROYALTY

During tonight's Academy Awards (aka Style Maniac's Superbowl) stars, starlets, speeches and sartorial matters will take center stage. The design and production awards will be rushed through to get to the acting and best picture awards. But for me, set design, costumes and photography count as much as acting and scripts. After all, it's a movie not a radio broadcast.

It's not often though, that a set designer's name is recognized much less remembered years later. Or attains the legendary status of Tony Duquette.






Duquette not only designed sets for films such as The Ziegfeld Follies, Kismet, Can Can (all shown above) and To Catch A Thief, he also designed costumes, jewelry, interiors, Broadway productions, ballets and extravagant parties. When MGM and Warner Brothers sold off their back lots they called Tony, who filled up trucks with props ranging from the front doors of Tara to an entire Chinese village. All to later appear in his studio and Malibu ranch (below), where movie magic became real.




Tony Duquette's exuberant version of Hollywood Regency influenced many prominent interior designers (such as Kelly Wearstler) and while some creations might be a bit much to live with on a daily basis, his work for client like the Ducommuns and the Hilton Lagoon in Honolulu (photos below) combine glamour and warmth in equal doses.




And no matter what the medium, his bold mixes, fantastic color sense and sheer fun in creating provide great inspiration for all of us.

READ / DECORATE: Tony Duquette by Wendy Goodman and Hutton Wilkinson.Source URL: https://thesoap-box.blogspot.com/search/label/style%20icons
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"MARRY YOUR BEST FRIEND"

That advice comes from my mother. It certainly worked for her and my father, who wed at a very young age and have stayed best friends (and married) for more than four decades. In the early years they had virtually no money; on most vacations they go on it rains the entire time; and there is certainly no lack of opinions on either side of the fence. But Lorraine still thinks John is the funniest person she knows and John would rather golf, travel (or stay at home) with Lorraine than anyone else in the world. Thanks for the advice (I followed it!)...and happy anniversary, Mom & Dad.Source URL: https://thesoap-box.blogspot.com/search/label/style%20icons
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