Fashion from the Inside
How Houston women in the know remain stylish, often at low cost.
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Meanwhile Amy Gafoofnick and I are counting our pennies waiting for what we foolishly think is the first day of the sale. But before you get indignant, Amy, you should know that super salespersons do exist who would love to put us in those clientele books of theirs, modest though our budgets may be, recording there with loving care our vital statistics (address, phone, size, lifestyle), past purchases, and future needs.
With only one exception (more on that later), the stores which Houston's best-dressed shop welcome you warmly yet are strictly soft-sell. They encourage customers to browse—the no pressure, friendly approach—and if a woman doesn't buy, still thank them for coming, on the policy that, as Bart Antle, manager of the Post Oak Palais Royal store put it, "a return is just as important as a sale."
It was this friendly, easy atmosphere which for years gave Isabell Gerhart a corner on fashion with River Oaks women, for there she was right on the corner of River Oaks Boulevard and Westheimer, where women often dropped off their children at St. John's prep school in the morning and went directly across the street to her store for a cup of coffee and a look at the clothes. The Gerharts lived in River Oaks themselves and were (and still do and are) well liked personally in the community.
"We knew each customer almost like kinfolk," reminisces Mrs. Gerhart. "In fact, we sometimes had to remind ourselves not to make it too much like a club and to welcome strangers when they came in."
"We tell our girls that a customer should feel as though she were in our living room—treat her as a lovely guest, offer her sherry or coffee, try to be honest with her and really help. No high pressure."
This sentiment was echoed by many store people. "Everyone works on the same mark-up and many of us sell the same clothes," one store owner told me, "so we try to keep our customers coming back to us by giving them personal service."
Since the move from River Oaks, Isabell Gerhart has lost some of that River Oaks trade, but no matter, for they've picked up a thriving walk-in business in the new location. It seems to be the shop of choice for visiting entertainment-show biz types like the Johnnie Cashes. The Furlin-Sprizter fur salon, a leased department within the store, whipped up a sable coat for Chuck Connors, the white mink and leather coat Ginger Rogers wore in "Mame," and has made furs for Liberace's show, but it hasn't gone to their head. They appear to be equally happy to recycle a mink stole into a mink and leather battle jacket if that's your speed, or, as one of their customers expressed it: "They'll take in an old raccoon your grandmother slept on and will redesign it…nothing but Alice Cooper's cape of 300 rat heads could faze them." Joanne King and umpteen other women keep their furs there (she has three full length coats in addition to her "everyday" stuff), partly because they know a phone call will bring almost instant delivery and pick-up for special occasions.
But Galleria shopping is an anathema to many of Houston's finest. Traffic congestion and parking problems turn them off, they say. That eliminates Neiman's, Joske's and Isabell Gerhart and to some, Post Oak Sakowitz as well, though it is across the street. They'd rather go down the road a piece to Esther Wolf where the parking is easy, go to Town and Country if they live in Memorial, or get into boutique shopping.
Boutiques in Houston seem to come in two forms: the word-of-mouth type (Ms, the Lioness, Tootsie's, Mr, James, etc.) and the captured-audience variety such as Carl's, where ladies come to have their hair done, ESP, where they have lunch, and are exposed to fashion with a minimum of effort.
Motivations for particular store loyalties differ: some women come in odd shapes and lengths—small sizes love the boutiques whereas Mrs. broad-shoulder, size 14, may as well not bother to look in such places. My astrological adviser tells me that Capricorns love Neiman's cause they're all hung-up on status.
Boutique shoppers invariably go on the recommendation of friends, but beware poor pitiful Pearl who sashays into Mr. James Boutique in River Oaks. Mr. James dresses a number of Houston's most affluent but the staff have a way of treating the peons who stroll in off the street as, uh, shall we say examined at a glance and found wanting. Haughty why-aren't-you-over-at-Lane Bryant's looks (and often remarks) greet such poor souls. Sales are final—no out-on-approval or returns. They've intimidated many women, yet others remain loyal—I talked with two women who buy nowhere else and who are terrific dressers, incidentally. Apparently they measured up.
Like every town, Houston has its faddy enthusiasms—last spring it was lunching at ESP where models walk through the salad course with the latest New York fashions on their backs. This faIl it's the new furs from Halston at Sakowitz—led off, incredibly, by the baggy status mink; and the Twenties look at Tootsie's at 506 Westheimer in Montrose.
The way things are going, the best place to shop just may be in your attic.
How to Look Different from Everybody Else in Houston
Spend a million dollars: It's not easy to get one-of-a-kind clothes in Houston, but it can be done if you've got the dough for custom couture. Reico Custom Designs offered four $6000 dresses in this fall's Isabell Gerhart cocktail-brunch showing. You could choose your own fabric and color.
Also through Isabell Gerhart, custom clothes by Ronald Amey and Michael Novarese. Nellie ConnaIly (flying in from Washington, D.C. for the day) had her wardrobe last spring custom-designed by Michael Novarese (he flew in from Beverly Hills).
For hip types, Tootsie's at 506 Westheimer carries one-of-a-kind blouses ($30-50) and dresses ($90) made from antique silks.
Make it yourself: can be tacky. On the other hand, can be sensational especially if you don't admit it. A friend of mine bought eight small Indian tablecloths at Cargo Houston—the kind with embroidery, little mirrors, etc.—and patched them together into a fabulous looking dress.
"I bought it for her in Hyderabad," I distinctly heard her husband tell an admirer. Eat your heart out Pam Sakowitz.
The dressmaker route: also has tackiness potential. This only works if you have an eye for good material the way Gene Tierney Lee does—she collects fabrics wherever she goes—have a secret-weapon dressmaker, and can predict what will look right on you. Unfortunately, few of us can.
The conversation piece: wear a piece of ivory and silver jewelry or a stained glass belt or carry a purse which is so spectacular that no one will notice your $23 dress.
Loraine Girard's (who does not wear $23 dresses, by the way) favorite conversation piece is an Indonesian silver rabbit box-turned-purse. Loraine says she definitely prefers it to carrying a gold Bulgari bag (they cost about $5000), because it's different and besides, it helps her give up cigarettes at cocktail parties (while her friends sling their purses over their shoulders) because she has to hang onto it with her smoking hand.
Loraine is reknowned for her conversation pieces. Last New Year's Eve she appeared in a beautiful 18th-century Cheyenne wedding dress of doeskin. The rabbit went along with her.
The most intriguing box-evening bags, known to the cognoscenti as minaudieres, are picked up in foreign countries or custom designed. Tower jewelry in Houston, for instance, made a Houston lady a purse out of a big sea shell.
Sammy Becker is perhaps the master of the jewelry conversation piece in Houston. Sammy was buying up Navaho jewelry five years ago, long before the current vogue. Same with lapis and African beads. Becker jewelers carry Cartier exclusively here and a sign of Sammy's popularity was the numbing fact that 11 different women at a recent River Oaks Country Club Tennis Ball were wearing the identical $350 Cartier gold vermeil belt.
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