"Triboot to Ileen"

I used to have a wierd thing about buying clothes in consignment shops, re-sale shops, and yard sales. The idea of wearing something that someone else (who knows who? and with what diseases?) had already worn. That was until I started volunteering at the Discovery Shop, which is the American Cancer Society's resale shop, after I "retired" from Nordstrom.

It didn't take long after sorting, washing, ironing, pricing, merchandising and displaying all these donations for me to be looking, trying, and buying. Soon I was an avid convert: among a myriad of minor pieces I scored a sheared mouton jacket from the '40's, several pairs of vintage leather gloves, a Jones New York suit that fit me perfectly, sport coats off the dollar rack for my husband. (He's still wearing them, don't tell anyone.) I decided second-hand clothes could be the best thing that ever happened to this girl.

One day my friend Ileen Shields died suddenly. She had been my mentor on the Planned Parenthood board years earlier. Now she was a lady with style. She loved clothes, she loved shopping for them, she loved wearing them, and she always looked perfect in them. She had mountains of them! Ski clothes, boating clothes, dressy clothes, travel clothes. Her Scandinavian heritage showed through in many of the things she wore: bright colors, embroidery, beautiful Norwegian sweaters. She and Gene traveled the world, and she brought the world home to her closets.

Kristy, her daughter, called me soon after to say that they wanted to donate Ileen's things to the Discovery Shop. I took the trusty van up to collect that most generous donation and noticed among all the miles of beautiful designer-wear a pair of black Ferragamo boots. What a magnificent objet trouve!! And I don't even speak French! Boots like I never in my lifetime could have afforded to buy new. Like a dream! Leather lined! A little stirrup thing that made them look just like riding boots! Tiny gold medallions! Just the right heel! My size! And (like most of Ileen's things) barely worn! I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

Of course we were never allowed to buy anything donated until it had been priced and put on our sales floor for a designated amount of time. I waited and watched patiently. I hid them behind some other, taller boots, hoping no one would find them. Every time I went in the shop I would visit them, talking to them, trying to make friends with them so they wouldn't go home with anyone else.

Finally one day my chance came, I paid a ridiculously small price for them (no one in the shop recognized designer prizes when they saw them--plus I had a half-off coupon), and wore them home. And then wore them and wore them and wore them.

That's when I realized that sometimes wearing used clothes can be an act of love and an act of honor. I adored those boots so much that every time I put them on I thought of Ileen and somehow felt closer to her (talk about 'big shoes to fill'....) I remembered her smile and her sense of style and the elegance that seemed to exude from her every pore. I often thought as I wore them that if she was somehow looking down on me she wouldn't mind that I had taken these little leather pieces of her glamorous life and made them my own. I liked to think that she would be smiling one of those impeccably-made-up Estee Lauder smiles at me every time I zipped up those boots.

I've worn them for seven years now. They went with everything--skirts, pants, jeans, suits. I packed them on every trip. I've had them re-soled, re-heeled, re-dyed. Of course now those little sqare heels are out of style (OMG, I could walk for miles on those things! Can't say that about my stilettos). I've tried to find a pair I like well enough to replace them, but nothing seems to come close. I'll wear them a few times, then toss them to the back of the closet and put on the Ferragamos. They are so worn out now, they conform to my feet like buttah, dahling...more comfortable than my bedroom slippers. I simply can't say good-bye to them.

So this is my tribute to you, Ileen. Thank you for the fabulous boots. But thank you so much more for the influence you had on me when I was a young mom, teaching me things about philanthropy and generosity, about giving time as well as writing checks, about being willing to take the reins and make the effort to make things happen in this town, about living well and giving well. You also taught me that one's wardrobe, though it can be fun and fabulous and an interesting way to express oneself, is certainly not the most important thing in life. But I also thank you for expressing your style in a fun and fabulous way. And for buying those amazing Ferragamos.