THE CHANEL SUIT CAPER

My first Chanel purchase was at a T. J. Maxx 'n More store
in Chicago in 1999. It was a lilac/green/red plaid tweed suit
(admittedly a little weird, but nevertheless, gorgeous). It had the
signature"CC" buttons, the trademark gold metal braid at the
bottom of jacket, Chanel Couture labels in both the jacket and
skirt. I could not believe my eyes! Best of all, it had the original
$2425 Bloomingdale‘ s price tag and - so hard to fathom even
now - the $129.99 T.J. Maxx price tag. I still have the price
tags saved in my jewelry box.) Today - ten years later -the
Bloomingdale‘s price would be in the $4000 range as Chanel
suits have almost doubled in price. This was a bargain in the
true sense of the word.

I wore the suit at Taillevent in Paris, in New York strolling
down Madison Avenue (just the jacket with jeans) and countless
other times. Sadly, all goods things must come to an end and I
began to wear it less and less. (While it was very beautiful, it was
also very heavy, and over the years, comfort has become more
and more of a priority.)

I decided to see if the suit would sell on eBay (more about
this in another chapter) and listed it for $599. It sold in a fiveday
listing for exactly that. There was only one bidder, but really,
that‘s all it takes. Apparently (or at least this is what the buyer
told me) she had once owned the exact same suit and had given
it away to her friend. She regretted it and was thrilled to see it appear
on eBay. While the story is somewhat suspicious, the buyer
paid immediately. I hope she enjoys the suit as much as I did.

THE CASE OF THE MISSING BLACK PANTS

I tell myself not to panic. They have to be here somewhere.
I mean, how hard is it to find a pair of black pants?
"I can‘t find my favorite black Dolce & Gabbana pants," I
mutter to my husband.
"I‘m not surprised," he replied. You must have at least 50
pairs of black pants."
As if. Actually, at last count I had 42, but he didn‘t need to
know the particulars.
"Maybe you should weed out your closet," my husband, practical
as ever, advised. "After all, you can‘t possibly wear them all."7
Oh, but I can. And I do. For example, consider my ten year
old Versace black leggings. They are comfortable, stylish (some
years more than others) and can be dressed up or down. And my
black silk Escada pants that I bought for $50 at an end-of-the year
70% off sale. And my cashmere TSE drawstring pants. The
black pants list is virtually endless.
I continue to peruse my closet, determined to throw out a
few pairs and ignoring my husband‘s furtive attempts to help
me look for my pants. I count five pairs of black pants from the
Gap; they are my staples that I wear day in and day out. I come
across a pair of wide Yves Saint Laurent pants. Would I ever
wear them again? (But didn‘t I just read that wide leg pants
were making a comeback?) Better hang onto them.
Frantically, I call the dry cleaners, who inform me I have
three pairs of black pants waiting for pick up. I beg for descriptions.
Alas, no Dolce & Gabbana.
I resolve, not for the first time, to stop buying black pants.
I even say this out loud to my husband, who has the good grace
to remain silent.
My husband then asks if I looked in my garment bag, as we
have just returned from a trip to Florida. And, lo and behold,
there are my pants. As I happily retrieve the impeccably tailored,
light wool beauties, a piece of paper falls to the ground.
I pick it up, only to discover it‘s a magazine picture of the most
perfect pair of black pants ever made: high-waisted, form-fitting
and from Balenciaga, no less. I had clipped the photo from a
magazine when in Florida.
Perhaps I can find them on sale. After all, what‘s one more pair?