Loyal reader Nancy wrote in yesterday to say she was surprised I hadn’t weighed in on the passing of Loehmann’s, and to ask if I had any special memories of the place. And indeed I do, although they don’t involve any momentous scores, but instead, epic humiliation at the hands of my bargain-happy grandmother Gelta, for whom Loehmann’s was an opiate as powerful as heroin. It was the only place she would take me shopping, and one of the few where she would buy for herself, even though my grandfather was a successful man who wanted only for her to have the nicest things. Part of the horror of going to Loehmann’s with Gelta was that she had no filter, and this could spell trouble for an easily embarrassed 14 year-old girl in a communal dressing room. Like the time I’d just tried on a pair of white jeans with rainbows on the pockets and she started picking indelicately at the inseam, and announced, “Kimberly, these are TOO TIGHT IN THE CROTCH, ” loud enough that all of the women in our direct proximity actually turned around to see what she could be referring to. If the ground had opened up and swallowed me whole at that moment, I would only have been grateful.
That’s my memory. Now I want to hear yours. Was it something like an amazing Helmut Lang coat, like Nancy, or a markdown-crazed family member, like me?Tags: Loehmann's, oh the old days