I can’t believe it’s September.
Summer, where did you go?
I thought, before I put all my white away, I’d wear it, one more time to Bemelmans, to give it its seasonal sendoff.
I know. You would think I’d be over, No White After Labor Day Disease by now, but that just isn’t the case.
The next time my vintage Ann Taylor culottes and white, silk shell will be seen, will be Memorial Day, 2018. Oh, mustn’t forget my ivory Gucci loafers I’ll drop off at the cobbler’s for a little polish before they snuggle into their kelly green felt shoe bag.
Connecticut, she dies hard with her croquet mallet in full swing.
But we still have three more days to whitely gleam, and I’m certainly not alone in this, a number of Nutmegers sprinkled round the room.
If only I had a state-of-the-art video camera. Ken Burns, move over.
There’s Muffy at the bar in a full-skirted, white eyelet dress I’d kill for, navy ribbons laced along the front. I like how she’s tapping her wedgie espadrille to Earl, the piano player’s, tune as if any minute she’d break out in song. See, white can do that, make you feel invincible and virginal…alright, and just a little hallucinating.
Well, vodka straight up helps too.
A chap, in chaps, glides in to join her, stopping at the door for full red carpet effect, nodding to Earl, waving to Muff who’s now off her stool ready, in full hug.
He runs to her like in a deodorant commercial while she laughs, as if life with a roll-on just couldn’t get much better.
Ah yes, to be oversexed, overdressed and dumb, now those were the days, when your biggest ambition was to splurge on new undies, not waiting for the Saks sale.
While they pose, I sit, on a comfy banquette scribbling away, wondering if their whites will also be shipped out in a coupla days, like sailors in On The Town.
What’s interesting is, I never do see much white anyplace after Labor Day. Could that be because New York is so near Connecticut, to be neighborly, adheres to her rigid sartorial rules?
My Dubonnet on the rocks says, no…it’s merely a coincidence, or just me in denial, refusing to see white till next May.
All I know is, no matter what time of year it is or what anyone’s wearing, Bemelmans Bar is still the place to be.
What Earl, what’s that you’re crooning?
IN OLDEN DAYS, A GLIMMER OF STOCKING,
WAS LOOKED AT AS SHOCKING.
BUT NOW, GOD KNOWS
ANYTHING GOES.
Hmm, could that possibly mean, I can still wear white after Monday?
SB
I know it reflects the sun’s heat and is associated with purity, but it’s always seemed such an impractical colour for clothing to me. Shows the beer stains too well!
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I always think of The Great Gatsby, picnics and my mother confiscating it after the summer’s last barbecue, when the charcoal was still smoking.
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Susannah, your description of the white eyelet dress reminded me of one I owned many moons ago. I loved that timeless dress, but alas, I couldn’t squeeze into it today with a tub of butter and a shoehorn.
You paint such a soothing, almost hypnotic atmosphere at Bemelmans, with wisps of sensual steam snaking around. Makes me want to go there!
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It’s timeless as if you turned back the clock. JFK’s old stomping ground with Madeline murals on the walls. There’s nothing like white eyelet to charm a girl…:)
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“No White After Labor Day Disease” was in the South when I grew up. Goodness knows we could have used very light colors an extra month or so! Now that I’ve written that, I think the disease was “No White Before Easter”. Perhaps we had to be more vigilant at the beginning of the season, so no one would jump the gun before the sunrise service. We had a mantra after Labor Day. It was “Dark Cottons”. The weather didn’t pay attention to the calendar, and we still needed cool clothing. When discussing what to wear, the proper answer was dark cotton. To this day, I have one blouse that would qualify.
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We’re products of our upbringing. Some of it’s good, like manners and sending thank you notes, but a lot is Ball and Chain Syndrome I’m sorry to say. My whites stacked already in a poor just sighed.
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Bremelman’s always seems like it’s from the Great Gatsby’s. I wouldn’t expect anything other than summer whites for the last official weekend of summer.
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It was quite Gatsbyesque, all that white appearing like spotlights or that kind of sparkler you place alongside the road at night. Bemelmans is notoriously dark. Sin City of hotels, with a lot of flair of course. 🙂
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Summer did go pretty quickly. Soon the leaves will start changing. I had never heard the no white after Labor Day rule until I was in my 20s and then only from a book, I think. But then, I just wear jeans year round if I can help it. 🙂
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It’s a silly rule when all is said and done, we from the Nutmeg State and her New England brethren are all, just plain nuts for abiding by it. You heard it here first.
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I once had an Evan Picone winter white wool suit. It was great. Come on, Susannah, live on the wild side. We won’t judge.
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A white suit. That sounds so snazzy.
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I had only heard that particular rule once, a long time ago. It’s not really adhered to here, but, then again, anything does go in Indiana. Our social graces and dresses are a bit lackadaisical.
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It’s all so silly when you think about it.
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It’s funny how certain things stick with you forever. We also grew up with the “no white after Labor Day rule, ” and it still stands strong today. There is just something about a white & navy combo that makes my heart swell.
I hope your loafers know how lucky they are to be in your closet.
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I’m thinking of bronzing them. Did I mention they have tassels? 🙂
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