I will happily admit that I was one of the many obsessed fans who waited impatiently for the Isabel Marant store to open in New York. I had been to one of her shops in Paris last year and had the good fortune of finding—and my husband purchasing—a cropped black leather jacket with a quilted collar which at that moment seemed to be the missing link to my happiness.
When they finally unlocked the Soho store doors on April 9th, I was recovering from minor surgery and couldn’t make the 12 minute trek from my apartment to Broome and Greene streets. Six days later I finally made it there, accompanied—or perhaps, chaperoned—by my husband. He had just picked me up from NYU hospital where I had undergone yet another minor procedure. With my left leg tightly wrapped in an ace bandage, I hobbled around this beautifully designed space lusting after everything. I watched in awe as coveted pieces of clothing and accessories flew off the racks and shelves and into the hands of some of the city’s most stylish women.
Alas, I walked out empty handed. This was due in part to the fact that trying on clothing when one leg is bandaged from toe to thigh is tricky at best. But the bigger challenge was trying to make a purchase in the presence of my husband—given my recent state of unemployment.
Several days later I returned to the store, liberated from both the binds of the bandage and the primary breadwinner, only to find that everything in my size had been snapped up. At least I’ll always have the leather jacket and Paris.