Inherited Style

My mama’s mama, my Nana, passed away last week. Today was the memorial,  but we weren’t able to make it down to meet up with my family. Instead, I spent the day sorting the boxes and boxes of vintage I’d been saving up for Etsy. There’s so much to sort that I started at 10am and I’m still surrounded by piles. Anyway, subconsciously because of the day, or perhaps just because FINALLY my style is headed in that direction, I found the “keep” pile filling up with lots of things that reminded me of my Nana.

Nana style = LL Bean whale patterned canvas bags, bermuda bags, tartan kilts, big gold kilt pins, bow flats, high necked cardigans, white ankle socks, omnipresent jade ring, equestrian print scarves, a classic satchel, tapestry wallets & cases. As a teenager I railed against it, and now, I’m winding back toward the classics.

Any manners I may have are completely attributed to her – much against my will! Now, I wish I listened to all her lessons, instead of screeching “I AM NOT A LADY!!!!” and running into the trees. Summers and Christmas were spent in classic NYC style, also thanks to her – hotel teas, the Library, a horse drawn carriage ride in Central Park, FAO Schwartz, Rockettes & Annie. She was old, old school, and I remember the tea/carriage day – she dressed me in a red sweater with red velveteen knickers, at the age of 9 or so. I loved it, but I also loved spotting punks and Madonna wannabes, those trips to the city totally changed my identity – but not in the way she wanted, I’m afraid! Luckily I did come around enough to please her in the last few years – I wore a classic white pique dress with tulips for her 80th birthday tea 6 years ago. Maybe it’s strange that my memorial to her is about fashion, but so much of that was what I got from her. She was always so polished, perfumed, manicured. My dad’s mom is where all my wildness comes from, but the princess side is 100% Nana.

When we cleared out the house after my PopPop died, I picked up some of her books from before she was married in the 40s – including A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I love seeing her maiden name in her scratchy gorgeous penmanship on the flyleaf. Her name was Virginia, but my PopPop & all her friends called her Ginny, which I think is the cutest name ever (maybe why I love Ginny Branch Stelling so much???)

Anyway. I’m sad that I’m not with my mom & my aunts right now. I’m lucky I had the chance to say goodbye over the phone on the day she died. She told me she loved me, and that I had to have babies. Hopefully they will have her poise.

And striped socks.