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Dear Reader,
Ta da! Please welcome guest author Beth Kendrick to the book club. Beth is the author of 11 fiction novels, including Nearlyweds, which was turned into a Hallmark Channel original movie. Her recent novels, New Uses for Old Boyfriends and Cure for the Common Breakup, are set in the (sadly) fictional town of Black Dog Bay on the Delaware shore. Beth does tireless research for her craft by going to the beach every summer and sitting in the sand, eating boardwalk fries, and braking for turtles. <grin>
Welcome Beth to the book club. Say hello. She's waiting to reply. Email: BethKendrickBooks@gmail.com
Take it away, Beth...
As a writer who works at home alongside two big red rescue mutts, I have never been known as a fashionista. Just last week, when I rolled up to my child's school wearing dark jeans, a blazer, and semi-coordinated jewelry (I'd come straight from giving a talk at a local library), one of the other moms said, with great enthusiasm, "Good for you, Beth. You're wearing real shoes!"
So when I announced I was writing a book in which the heroine opens a vintage clothing boutique, I got a few skeptical looks. Luckily, I had a secret weapon: Fashion by Robert Black, an upscale vintage shop in Scottsdale, Arizona. I was quite intimidated the first time I ventured in, fearing that the staff would take one look at me and re-create the Snobby Saleswoman scene from Pretty Woman: "You're obviously in the wrong place. Please leave."
But no. Robert and his assistant Jennifer were gracious and charming. I looked around at the racks of gorgeous fabrics and said, "Explain all this to me like I'm a five-year-old. A frumpy five-year-old."
And they did. They told me about seams and stitching and hand-beading. They told me about fabric and sizing and the evolution of foundation garments over the last six decades. And then they told me the story of the time they realized that someone had come in with a razor and sliced off all the buttons from the Chanel suits.
"But...why?" I asked.
"Vintage pieces are worth more if they have the buttons stamped with the Chanel insignia," Robert explained. "They can sell them on eBay."
"So there's a black market for Chanel buttons?"
"There's a black market for Chanel everything."
At this point, they showed me a little black dress featuring lace on the bodice and sleeves. Jennifer lowered her voice in reverence. "This is an Adrian. Excellent condition."
I tried to look suitably impressed. Except, you know, that meant nothing to me.
"Adrian who?" I ran my fingers over the lace.
"Adrian Greenberg was a costume designer from the thirties and forties. He was a trailblazer, started the whole wasp-waist-with-shoulder-pads look. Think Joan Crawford. His pieces are very, very rare and very, very valuable. This dress is like the holy grail of fashion."
I took a big step back. "Then I probably shouldn't be touching it."
"No, go ahead! It looks fragile, but the construction is amazing. It's made to be worn. You want to try it on?"
I glanced at the dainty wisps of lace and the hefty price tag. "Nope."
And then I saw my true love across the room: red, silken, sparkling with a smattering of crystals. "But I will try that on."
"This one?" Jennifer pulled the 1960's cocktail dress from the rack. "This is a dead-stock Malcolm Starr."
"I have no idea what that means, but I must have it."
I stayed all morning, pestering them with questions, begging for more stories, and examining zippers and hemlines. I left with a newfound appreciation for sartorial style and the dead-stock red dress.
And just for the record: flip flops and Uggs are real shoes. You can look it up.
--Beth Kendrick
Email: BethKendrickBooks@gmail.com
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
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