Goodbye, Dear Barbara

Barbara as my reluctant model

Life—and even death—make it into AllWays in Fashion. It pains me to write a tribute to my dear friend Barbara. She was one of my oldest friends (at 84) and longest (65 years). We met in August, 1960, at Bonwit Teller in Cleveland, Ohio, and that's where even a beautiful friendship owes its beginnings to fashion.

This Bonwit Teller was a branch of the New York City specialty store located at 57th and Fifth (where the ugly building built by a certain President is now). At the time it was part of a pantheon of high-end retailers including Saks Fifth Avenue, Bergdorf Goodman, and others long gone. It had just a few branch stores, and the Cleveland "jewel box" of a store was one of them.

It was tiny, but everything in it was the perfect example of what something should be. It was where my Aunt Sally, with the expendable income, would buy her accessories. Bonwit's was where my sister shopped for her wedding trousseau, and it was where I might be allowed to choose a "dress-up" dress every two years from the Junior Department. 

I had graduated high school that spring and was working for the summer at a department store called Sterling Lindner. It was huge and sold everything (like department stores did). I was a "rover" and spent my days going from department to department, filling in for lunch breaks or employee absences or special sales. I remember the sale on gloves that went bananas! I especially enjoyed working in the candy department (as one could sample the merchandise "in order to advise"), the watch repair department (although I broke my own watch doing an inspection), and the greeting card department (read them all). Every day was a new adventure, but I was thankful I was starting art school in the fall and wouldn't be doing that for the rest of my life.

This particular day I took my lunch hour to walk half a block east on Euclid Avenue to Bonwit's. I didn't often go in as it was discouragingly like visiting a museum with price tags. But it was August, the time to think about back-to-school clothes. This year was a big one as back-to-school meant off-to-college. I had no idea what art students wore, but I wanted some inspiration from a higher authority than Seventeen or Mademoiselle.

Bonwit's Junior Department was one room on the third floor, I believe. This particular day and time it was empty except for artfully arranged displays of clothing set into recesses in the walls, not on ugly rolling racks. It was lovely; I seem to remember a lot of golden yellow paint and woodwork. There was one lone salesperson behind a tall desk in the corner. She was a pretty blonde girl concentrating on some paper work.

Of course she nicely asked if she could help. I told her I was "just looking, thanks" and mentioned I was starting at the Art Institute in September.

"So am I!", she said. "Really!", I said. "Where did you go to high school?" I forget her answer. She then said, "But I went to college for a year already." My next words were the classic ones we teased each other with from that time forward. "Oh, so you're OLDER", I said. You know back then one year made a huge difference, or so I thought. She smiled and laughed because it was a bit absurd.

Needing to get back to work, I had no time for chit-chat. Maybe there was just an "I'll see you then". 

And on the first day of art school, in the dimly lit auditorium where we freshmen had gathered, I spotted Barbara. There was no question we didn't become immediate friends. A small group of us (Barbara, me, Faith and Debbie) plowed through those first months of art school, finding our ways but mutually loathing Monday afternoon's "Dimensional Drawing" class. 

Faith soon dropped out, but Debbie, Barbara and I were friends for the rest of school and the rest of our lives. We all had our ups and downs with boys and men and ended up many miles apart, but we stayed connected, with Barbara being the fulcrum in the triangle—strong, sympathetic and always, always happy to hear from me. She became a successful portrait painter in Richmond, Virginia, and gifted me a painting from a childhood photograph of mine:

Debbie passed away some years ago and Barbara only last week. Fortunately I had the opportunity to call her on her last birthday and again remind her she was older than me. Of course that never mattered, but in friendships the older the better.

May your memory be as a belessing.