Casseroles, Gin & Fashion – You Basically Need Them All

A few weeks back, I took a walk in Brooklyn. Fort Greene’s a cool neighborhood to carry a camera, having both attractive aspects (like the restored Harvey Theater) and equally unattractive-yet-photographable aspects (Attention dangerously obese humans: Please stop wearing flesh-colored, Lycra leggings.)

While I was ambling around with zero purpose, I noticed this man. He noticed me and my trusty camera. We had that moment where I was excited to get the shot without asking, and I could tell my Nikon made him feel good. Attractive. Fashionable. Which, let’s face it, he is.

That was our sole communication – that smile I caught on film. I launched one back at him in payment, and we parted ways. But later that afternoon, I came home and changed clothes. I took a shower, did my hair and put on an actual outfit, in place of the jeans and ripped t-shirt I’d been sporting.

I thought about one of the main reasons I love New York. People here are afforded so many opportunities to dress fashionably that the urge spills over into everyday activities. Maybe that guy was going to brunch. Maybe he was headed in that Baptist Temple (Side note: What exactly is a Baptist Temple? I think we all need Pentecostal Mosques, frankly.) My point is, whatever the destination, NYC invites you to put on your three-piece suit, grab your hat (yes, you own a hat. In fact, you own several) and head out-on-the-town in the middle of the day.

I went back out to meet my friends for food – dressed to hopefully inspire others – and as I was walking, I thought about my first fashion mentor. It was my Mississippi relative, Gage.

Ok … this necessitates a bit of backstory. Gage isn’t technically related to me. You see, she was at one time married to my mom’s cousin Bill. But Bill had a bit of trouble with the law and wound up incarcerated for a spell. Gage got a divorce but kept the family. That’s a Southern thing. I won’t quantify ‘a spell,’ and I won’t go into what Bill’s legal issue was, but he’s out now and we love him just the same.

But back to my second-cousin-once-removed’s ex wife Gage.

Gage remains a member of our family. In fact, when I was little, she was in my Top 5 list for certain.

Gage wore impossibly high heels to every family gathering when I was growing up. She would enter the event, auburn hair teased high, manicure perfect, small waist accentuated neatly beneath some colorful wide belt on a pretty, floral dress. As a seven year old, I wanted to be just like Gage. I wanted magenta-pink high heels. I wanted bright, Cadillac red lipstick and nails to match. While I’ve clearly grown up to be very different from my wonderful relative, when I think on her, I now remember two things more clearly than anything she ever wore. Gage has a gorgeous Mississippi, sweet-as-pie accent. Those are dying out sadly, and I wish I owned one too. Gage also had two, seemingly bizarre-but-actually-helpful bits of advice for life.

“Dah-lin’, you should always pack a black dress when ya leave town. You just nevah know when someone’s gonna up and die. And there you’d be … at the funeral … wearin’ bright yellow.” To this day, I follow that fashion tip when packing. No way am I going to be drowned like a canary in a sea of navy and charcoal grey.

Her other idiom that sticks with me is: “Honey, you should always keep a casserole in the deep freeze. ‘Cause you just nevah know when you are gonna to get invited over to a party at the very last second.”

In Gage’s mind, I suppose life is a bit like The Great Gatsby. People are always throwing parties or droppin’ dead without warning. One needs to be prepared.

Last Friday, my wonderful friend and editor Ann Shields invited me to have dinner with her family. Around 4pm, I inwardly kicked myself that I didn’t have some appropriate dip waiting to be de-thawed from the freezer. I grabbed a bottle of Malacca gin off the shelf instead. Gage, head’s up. I’m altering our family casserole rule for future generations.

“Dah-lin’s, you  should always have a bottle of un-opened, expensive liquor handy. People are always throwing parties or droppin’ dead without warning. And, afterall, you can’t wear a casserole to a funeral, but you sure as Hell can take a bottle of stiff booze to one.”