Born That Way

Miles Davis

 
A new book will be published in the USA on December 7, "Black Ivy: A Revolt in Style". It examines how prominent Black cultural figures (writers, musicians, artists, civil rights activists) purposely adopted an established white Ivy League style, making it cooler by degrees and hipper by association. 

I've just read a a discussion with the author, Jason Jules, in the New York Times:

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/11/17/style/black-ivy-style-jason-jules.html

He looks at why so many Black men in the arts dressed this way. Was it a desire to be accepted? Was it aspirational? Was it meant as irony?

 
Jules writes Miles Davis was someone who briefly wore a hip-gangster style popular among Black musicians in the '40s before switching his look to establishment Ivy League style. He points out that this was not a particular reach for Davis, who grew up wearing Brooks Brothers. His father was a dental surgeon and his was a socially prominent and well-off family.

I had never thought much about Miles Davis' background and childhood. He just seemed to emerge cool on the scene. His early recordings for Capitol Records must be called the "Birth of the Cool" sessions for a reason. The Miles Davis I first heard recorded the classics, "Milestones" (1958), "Kind of Blue" (1959) and "Sketches of Spain" (1960) looking very much like an insurance salesman.

Did Miles just feel more comfortable dressed as he always had been? I tend to think he did. I doubt Miles Davis needed to prove himself to anyone. Davis himself changed his look radically over time, choosing to embrace his African roots in later years.

He's a great choice as the cover image for "Black Ivy", though I have a feeling whatever Miles Davis wore was his very own statement and one not up for discussion. I sure as hell would never have asked.


  

The Worst Grade I Ever Got...

Same machines, different year

 
...was an A minus in Sewing. Perhaps I shouldn't have been as upset about that "minus" as I was. It was an elective in 9th grade but a class I loved.

In truth my worst grade was the D in 11th grade Advanced Algebra. I resisted taking Geometry as I was sure I would have little use for it in real life (wrong), and I hadn't done too badly in Algebra I. The teacher, flummoxed that I was the only girl in a room of pocket-protector-wearing, slide-rule-toting boys, and no doubt frustrated by my lack of ability, still gave me a passing grade. I feel sure he didn't want me in summer school.

Back to sewing and 9th grade. I grew up in Shaker Heights, Ohio, a picturesque suburb of Cleveland with an excellent school system. By 1956 the district had outgrown its one junior high (grades 7, 8 and 9). When it became clear the second school would not be finished in time, it was decided to divide the student body and run classes in two shifts. The first shift (mine) ran from 7:20 AM to 12:20 PM. 

I am not a morning person now, was not then, and Northeastern Ohio winters come early, stay late, and seem like they are in perpetual darkness. Were it not for Sewing I can't imagine what would have gotten me out of bed that year. 

My "school bus", the Rapid Transit

 
I remember no other class. There must have been English, math, some kind of history and science. I remember nothing but that hour spent with Mrs. Finkel and a vintage Singer sewing machine. There was neither gym nor lunch. It's curious we were allowed an elective with such a time crunch of a schedule.

I had taken a semester of Sewing the year before. That and a semester of Home Ec were required for 8th grade girls; the boys took Shop. We made a dirndl skirt, probably the most unflattering silhouette on a 13-year-old, but they were very much in style.

I don't remember everything I sewed in 9th grade. I made a pair of pajamas in a folkloric flannel print trimmed in red rickrack. Wore those for years. Ohio winters, remember? My piece de resistance was a cotton bathing suit and matching skirt in a rosebud print. There must have been quite a few more as the class put on an end-of-year fashion show, and I remember several changes of outfits.

I over-performed homework for this class, spending hours going through fashion magazines to decide on my next project. There were no Jo-Ann's stores then, so shopping for fabric and patterns meant a trip to downtown Cleveland's department stores. If I was flush with babysitting money I might treat myself to a copy of French "Elle" at Schroeder's newsstand on Public Square. 

Anyone who sews knows it's tempting to cut corners (sewing pun!). You can cheat a little placing the pattern (especially if you didn't buy enough yardage), disrespecting the grain of the fabric. You will be sorry, but it will be too late. You can skip cutting those notches or ignore instructions to baste before sewing. You can iron the seams as you go or you can iron at the end and hope for the best. 

 
I took no chances! I broke no rules! But Mrs. Finkel gave me an A minus. This was the one and only time I ever questioned a grade, but I had to know why. She was a sweet lady, soft spoken and patient. She had always encouraged my work and praised the results. I was not afraid to speak up.

"Mrs. Finkel," I said. "Why did you give me an A minus and not an A?"

The voice was soft, the eyes were kind. She answered, "Michelle, you never used the electricity."

I had turned the Singer's wheel by hand the entire year. My efforts to make every stitch perfect were my downfall.

Sewing in schools is long gone, but I'm happy to see there are classes offered privately and through the community for youngsters as young as seven. The road to "Project Runway" is a long one but what a highway to heaven!

Urban Stitch Studio in Reno, Nevada