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!

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.