I was driving southbound down Green Bay Road in Hubbard Woods the other day. On my left I saw a large picture window in a building that looked like a charming, life-size doll house.
Out of habit, I expected to see mannequins wearing the latest in cool teen-aged girl fashions. But as the window whizzed by, I caught a glimpse of bicycles instead.
Much to my chagrin.
When I got home, I double checked on the Internet.
Alas, it was too true. The store Young in Heart had been replaced by a bike shop.
Another piece of my childhood iconography gone.
But not forgotten.
I had started shopping there when I was twelve. Back then it was on the west side of Green Bay Road.
And I remember the very first things I bought. A turquoise blue, sleeveless dressy dress and a navy and white tweed, box-pleated suit with a red sleeveless turtle neck to go underneath.
Both outfits were for Teddy Marcus’s bar mitzvah. (Memorable indeed because our school only had two of these events. Forrest Tatel had the other one.)
Memorable, too, because my mother had correctly bought the suit for me to wear to the temple service in the morning and the dressy dress to wear to the party that night.
But came the day and my arms looked so pitifully skinny in that sleeveless dress and the red turtleneck seemed so flattering, that much to her annoyance, I wore the outfits the other way around.
(With a white cardigan to cover that awful bare arms thing.)
Only the beginning of my relationship with Young in Heart- and clothing arguments with my mother.
I intended to make this post a glowing tribute to that store and the beautiful, stylish woman who owned it- Essie Novick. But because she ran a store that specialized in clothing for teenaged girls, it’s hard to leave to leave the mother-daughter dynamic at the dressing room door.
As a regulation North Shore teenager, I loved all the preppy clothing- Villager, John Meyer of Norwich, Lanz.
I loved smock dresses, kilts, round collar blouses and madras bermuda shorts and knee socks.
And I would shop at stores like Betty’s of Winnetka and Trooping The Colour to get them.
But for special occasions like prom, we’d always go to Young in Heart.
And that prom dress shopping could lead to some very serious warfare. The darling little shop became the scene of many a mother-daughter fight-to-the-death clothing cage match.
That’s because the would-be prom dress was always:
1. Too short
2. Too long
3. Too high
4. Too low
5. Too young
6. Too old
7. Too cheap
8. Too expensive
9. Too babyish
10. Too sophisticated
11. Not black
12. Black
And later, when I was a step-mother of teenaged girls myself, I saw that very same cycle continue.
If I loved the dress, my step-daughter Patti would HATE it.
But we were not alone in this eternal struggle. Patti actually went to to work at Young in Heart while she was in high school, and she assured me that this battle of color, hem and neck lines was par for the generational course.
Essie and her stable of patient, motherly saleswomen would be close at hand to tactfully advise, bring kleenex when sobbing broke out, (“I’m so fat. I hate the way I look in this!” was a common wail.) and to gently head Mom off when they felt she was on the wrong “no sale” track.
This took great diplomatic skill, an enormous wellspring of common sense, and a killer “closer” instinct.
For the record, here is what a typical prom dress looked like back in my day.
I think I had something pretty darn close to that my junior year.
And here’s what they’re showing for Prom 2015.
I don’t see those doing too well in my old neighborhood, but times have certainly changed since I didn’t want to show my skinny bare arms.
And when I became the mother of a teenaged girl myself, Young in Heart was still there for us.
Natasha went to St. George’s School in Newport, Rhode Island, and although they didn’t have a prom, they did have a dance. She came home from school her third form year excited to be asked.
And in need of a formal dress.
Off to YIH we went.
The old pros steered her to the dressy dress section and skillfully helped her choose five or six numbers. I sat in the “mom’s” chair outside the dressing room and tried not to be too judgmental.
She would try on a dress, sail out of the dressing room and give me a look.
See the list above numbers 1-12 for most of the objections.
Finally we narrowed it down to two contenders- a beautiful burnished copper-colored panne velvet one.
And some black thing.
Natasha looked charming in the copper one. It went with her skin tone and fit her to a teenaged tee. Perfect.
But it wasn’t black.
And she was afraid that she wouldn’t look sophisticated enough in any other color.
(Yes, at fourteen this was a big concern of hers.)
We argued- albeit politely- but to no avail.
I was sure of my taste and choice.
Natasha would not be moved. It was the black dress or nothing.
I knew my daughter. She meant it.
With a sigh, I told her she could buy the black one. But then an inspiration hit me.
“Look, Natasha, I won’t see you in the dress on the night of the dance in any case. Just put on the bronze one again and waltz around in it for a minute. That way I will picture you wearing it the night of the dance.”
She was happy to comply, and wearing the bronze velvet dress, she whirled and smiled and gave me a picture of teenaged bliss and beauty that I still carry to this day.
It might not have been reality but it sure was lovely.
Thanks, Young in Heart.
And next time I drive past that bike shop on Green Bay Road, I’m going to look a little harder and see Villager in the window instead.
Ellen — we’re close to the same age and I’m so glad I don’t remember what my date wore to my Senior Prom. I vaguely remember a long yellow or maybe light blue gown and yes, those awful dated white gloves and I can only say how grateful I am that genes and chromosomes and jeans and Chuck Taylors made me a guy. I would not have done well as “Mr. Mom”.
The light pink dress with the lace on top and at the waist, on that gorgeous auburn-haired model, is terrific however.
Thanks for the look back.
I’m glad you’re a guy, too, Jack. And now you’ve had your chance to pick out a prom dress. Men do it too, of course. I couldn’t bring myself to use the clip from “What Women Want,” but there’s a cute scene with that jerk Mel Gibson watching his daughter choose a dress. Hope you had a wonderful birthday yesterday and thanks.
Yes, that scene in “What Women Want” with Mel Gibson as the awkward and too conservative father trying to help (or not) his daughter pick out a prom dress is probably an accurate picture of what it must be like for guys stuck in that role.
I actually think Helen Hunt was the star of that film and remember enjoying particularly how she criticized herself for looking at Gibson’s crotch — a reminder to men that women do the same things that guys do. Very funny. It is a good thing that the messages we tell ourselves are not audible for others to hear.
Thanks again for the birthday wishes. My New York Times is here so my Sunday can begin.
Yes, Helen was adorable in that movie. And I’m reading my NY Times right now. Jinx, buy me a (Diet) Coke.
I bought all my dressy clothes there too. A wonderful institution. If those walls could talk!
Thanks, ML, for sharing. And are you going to share a photo of you and your prom date?
Hi Ellen- I remember the store as the place for all the girls to get their finery, but just in case I thought I’d bring you up to date on Essie. Many years ago she married the widowed father of one of my cloest friends and I’ve gotten to know her well ever since then. Although my friend’s dad passed away several years ago I still see Essie at their family events and can report that she is as stylish, charming and delightful as ever… just in case you were unaware. I will forward this blog on to my buddy as well. As always, nice blog and memory tickler.
How great, Gary! I was hoping one of my readers might know her. I ran into her myself several years ago and I was so delighted to see that she still looked as youthful and as beautiful as ever. What a stunner. Send her my love and thanks. And thank you!
I so remember buying prom and graduation dresses there. One of my sisters even got a white dress there for her not-so-formal backyard wedding at my parents’ Kenilworth home. My own daughter shopped for dresses there for prom, graduation and college formals. What great memories.
Thanks, Diane. So glad this resonated with you. A beautiful common thread for so many of us mothers and daughters. Thanks for sharing your own experience here today.
No Young in Heart or Betty’s for the XY chromosome set. The one and really only place for us was Fells. In Glencoe, Rusty and Ida were like a second set of parents.
I’m so glad someone mentioned Fell’s, Mitch. You are absolutely right. They were family. My dad and me son Nick both bought sport jackets there. My dad was probably 70 and Nick was 6. Great memories!
And you could just tell Rusty to put it on your parents charge acct….still see John Fell every once in a while
Nick insisted on picking up his sport jacket on his bike. He was six. He pedaled over from our house and brought it back on his handlebars. I still have the receipt where he scrawled his name. Thanks, Gar. A two-fer!
Funny I should come across this. While just on a walk (in California) I for some reason thought about Trooping the Colour. I used to like to stop in there just to smell the Royall Lime or Madarin Cologne. I also remember shopping (mostly) at Young In Heart–also Betty’s and Charles A Stevens. It was disappointing when I went back over a decade ago to see that across from where Chas A Stevens used to be, it looked like a strip mall. Also memories of Hubbard’s Cupboard
Tonight I talked with a lady about Hubbard Woods in the 50’s & 60’s. I remember the store front skating rick where I took lessons. Most of all I remember Young in Heart and Essie. She was so slim and beautiful. At the time I was heavy and I wanted to look like Essie. Mom and I had arguments about the dress I wanted for graduation. The neck was too low…it was too high…etc.
Today there are few stores like Young In Heart. There are certainly few sales people like Essie. Personal service in retail stores seem to have disappeared…if you can even find a salesperson.
Thank you for bring back memories of a unique experience in my life.
I agree wholeheartedly. Essie was the reason that YIH was so special. I was skinny and thought my arms were too thin to wear sleeveless anything. She made me feel almost as pretty as she was. Thanks for reminding me.