Thank you, Alison. And yes, that was what I was hoping I expressed (but wasn't overt enough about) - we had the benefit of people meeting and getting a true sense of us - no hiding behind computers or ghosting. It was worth all the lugging of our giant portfolio cases.
Thank you, Patou - that means so much because let's just say you know a thing or two about a beautifully-written thank you. I love each and every one of yours.
Dear Debra, I had been a suit for 20 odd years before choosing to become a copywriter. I too had a shoe incident … involving a pair I’d bought at Kenneth Cole in New York. The heel actually came off when I was on my way to see a client in Geneva. I limped into the office feeling sorry for myself and, by lunchtime, had decided to go buy myself some new shoes. I took the tram downtown and ended up in Bally’s. A big mistake, of course, as I walked out with the most expensive shoes I’ve ever bought. They were, and still are, fabulous. I really enjoyed this and your other stories. Thank you. Gavin
I waitressed when I first got to the city as well. Freelanced during the day, waitressed at night. Falafels in the West Village. Thank god that only lasted a summer.
Mylene! Yes, Wendy. She got me through so much, before Ogilvy and especially during. Funny about falafels - when I lived on MacDougal Street, it was above a falafel place. They started cooking early, so the smell of onions and lamb wafted into my windows every morning. And I thought I was the luckiest person on earth. Oh, to be that young and silly again!
George! I just laughed aloud over you screaming like Jack Lemmon. I know that kind of panic so well. I'm sorry you didn't have an off-the-shoulder Normal Kamali - you would have rocked it, without a doubt.
She sure was. I tagged her (is that even how you say it?) when I posted it on LinkedIn, hoping I'd hear from her - do you know where she is or what she's doing? Last I heard, she was working with animals at a vet's clinic.
To the "Lesly"s too. Oh, right. I might be the only one of those. My mom dreamed of having a prissy little girl she could doll up in dresses. But she got me. Later in life, I came across the baby book where she said she got the spelling of my name. She didn't quite see the small print: "male spelling."
Thanks, Debra, for always tantalizing us all with your beautifully arranged words.
Perfection. Once again. You captured the big hearted-ness of that era. And reminds us how badly this generation needs it from all of us. Beautiful.
Thank you, Alison. And yes, that was what I was hoping I expressed (but wasn't overt enough about) - we had the benefit of people meeting and getting a true sense of us - no hiding behind computers or ghosting. It was worth all the lugging of our giant portfolio cases.
Captivating as usual. What a beautiful tribute to those mentors...mentors who acted, not just pontificated!
Oh, Zeba - thank you. Yes - you put it perfectly. They were there to actually help us.
As you know… I love a thank you. And this is so beautifully written. ❤️
Thank you, Patou - that means so much because let's just say you know a thing or two about a beautifully-written thank you. I love each and every one of yours.
Another amazing story told with wit and heart. And thank you for being a Fifi to my Grace!
Ah, Kate. Thank you! I love the thought of us all becoming Fifi's!
Wendy Abrams was the greatest. Wonderful piece.
Dear Debra, I had been a suit for 20 odd years before choosing to become a copywriter. I too had a shoe incident … involving a pair I’d bought at Kenneth Cole in New York. The heel actually came off when I was on my way to see a client in Geneva. I limped into the office feeling sorry for myself and, by lunchtime, had decided to go buy myself some new shoes. I took the tram downtown and ended up in Bally’s. A big mistake, of course, as I walked out with the most expensive shoes I’ve ever bought. They were, and still are, fabulous. I really enjoyed this and your other stories. Thank you. Gavin
Ha! What a great story and I love that you still have them! Thank you for reading my story, Gavin. I so appreciate it.
Oh the memories… what a beautiful capture.
Wendy!
I waitressed when I first got to the city as well. Freelanced during the day, waitressed at night. Falafels in the West Village. Thank god that only lasted a summer.
Mylene! Yes, Wendy. She got me through so much, before Ogilvy and especially during. Funny about falafels - when I lived on MacDougal Street, it was above a falafel place. They started cooking early, so the smell of onions and lamb wafted into my windows every morning. And I thought I was the luckiest person on earth. Oh, to be that young and silly again!
My god, Debra.
I had those shoes, too.
I remember once interviewing with Mike Drazen at HDM who was an excellent writer.
I lost my heel on the way there. And ran into one of those 5 minute heel places on 7th Avenue,
and like Jack Lemmon at his most manic, screamed to the Marlboro behind the counter while
holding up my shoe, "Can you really do it?"
Thank you for this.
Really wonderful.
(I did not have an off the shoulder Norma Kamali sweater.)
George! I just laughed aloud over you screaming like Jack Lemmon. I know that kind of panic so well. I'm sorry you didn't have an off-the-shoulder Normal Kamali - you would have rocked it, without a doubt.
She sure was. I tagged her (is that even how you say it?) when I posted it on LinkedIn, hoping I'd hear from her - do you know where she is or what she's doing? Last I heard, she was working with animals at a vet's clinic.
To the "Lesly"s too. Oh, right. I might be the only one of those. My mom dreamed of having a prissy little girl she could doll up in dresses. But she got me. Later in life, I came across the baby book where she said she got the spelling of my name. She didn't quite see the small print: "male spelling."
Thanks, Debra, for always tantalizing us all with your beautifully arranged words.