Reggie Is Having Fun Over At Privilege

Reggie is thrilled (and tickled pink) to have collaborated with LPC, the writer of the marvelous blog Privilege, on a post analyzing and discussing the sartorial style of the East Coast Grande Dame.  For those of my readers who aren't familiar with LPC's Privilege blog, I whole-heartedly recommend that you click on over to it and give it a gander.  I am sure that you will become as hooked as I am.

The Style Icons of the East Coast Grande Dame
as selected by Reggie Darling for Privilege
Image courtesy of same

I first became aware of LPC's Privilege blog shortly after I started my own, and we have since become fast friends, transitioning from an initial electronic acquaintance discussing our shared High WASP backgrounds into a live, "Let's have dinner when you are in town" one.  Several years ago we guest-posted on each other's blogs about attending our twenty fifth college reunions at the Ivy League schools we went to, in her case Princeton and mine Yale.  You can link to her post about it on my blog here.

The East Coast Grande Dame's favored accessories
as selected by Reggie Darling for Privilege
Image courtesy of same

On her own blog, LPC frequently discusses the sartorial equipage of three types of WASP women: the "Sturdy Gal," the "Artsy Cousin," and the "Grande Dame," each of which she cleverly defines and analyzes for her devoted readers.  A month or two ago LPC did a post about Grande Dame style where Reggie commented and which prompted LPC to invite him to collaborate with her on a piece about the style of the East Coast Grande Dame, a subset to her broader Grande Dame category.  LPC sought Reggie's input because she is a life-long Californian (her parents decamped there from their East Coast High WASP origins before she was born), and felt that I could provide a window into the style of the East Coast Grande Dame from "the inside" (so to speak), as a New Yorker.

Modern Day East Coast Grande Dames
as selected by Reggie Darling for Privilege
Image courtesy of same

I had much fun collaborating with LPC on her post, peppering her with images and suggestions, and I think the result is absolutely swell.  I am honored that she asked me to contribute to it, and I encourage you, Dear Reader, to click on over and read the piece here.

I hope you like it!

Many thanks, LPC, for giving Dear Old Reggie the opportunity to have fun with you on our collaboration.  You are a treasure.

Reggie's (Not) Holiday Sweater

Reggie has what some people refer to as a Holiday Sweater.  No, Dear Reader, he doesn't own one of those awful, lurid acrylic ones—covered with images of cheery Santas, candy canes, wrapped packages, and reindeer—favored by mittelklassen women of a certain age or worn ironically by post-collegians to Ugly Christmas Sweater parties.

Reggie's sweater, made by Dale of Norway

Reggie's sweater is an authentic, classic wool Norwegian one made by Dale of Norway.  It is not a holiday sweater at all, but rather a sweater made to be worn during the winter, ideally while the wearer is engaged in an athletic outdoor activity, such as skiing.

A vintage poster for the Norwegian America Line
Image courtesy of PosterTeam.com

Dale has been making sweaters and other knitted garments since 1879 and is the best source today for traditional Norwegian sweaters, as far as Reggie knows.

A full view of Reggie's traditional Norwegian sweater

Dale is named after Norway's Dale River, where the company's factory sits and where it still makes its sweaters to this day.  Dale takes great pride, and rightfully so, that its sweaters are—and always will be—Norwegian-made, versus farmed out to a factory in China.

A family of skiers, entirely outfitted in Norwegian sweaters, ca. 1960s
Photograph courtesy of Vintage Ski World

Dale is correctly pronounced Dah-leh, and not Dail, as Reggie used to pronounce it until he was corrected by a Norwegian woman who laughed out loud when she heard him bungle the pronunciation of the company's name.  Needless to say, he never made that mistake again.

A ski sweater knitting-pattern-book cover from the 1950s
Image courtesy of Etsy

Reggie has been a fan of Norwegian sweaters for many years.  He got his first one—the classic Norwegian fisherman's sweater from L.L. Bean—when he was a student at Saint Grottlesex.

While not necessarily made in Norway, Reggie
is generally fond of traditional ski sweaters,
such as the one shown here
Photograph courtesy of LIFE Images

Reggie always hankered after a traditional Norwegian ski sweater with a knitted design spread across the shoulders.  He admired similar sweaters worn by his classmates at Saint Grottlesex and at Yale.

Gary Cooper and Claudette Cobert
in Sun Valley, Idaho, in the 1940s
Image courtesy of Sun Valley Guide
(and thanks to Slim Paley!)

It was only ten or so years ago, though, that Reggie stepped up and bought the beautifully made, intricately knitted Norwegian sweater shown in the photographs at the outset of this essay.  He bought his from Gorsuch, which has stores in Vail and Aspen, Colorado.

A vintage ski poster for Aspen, Colorado
Image courtesy of Swann Galleries

Reggie is a fan of traditional, "native" clothing, especially garb from Scandinavia and Germany.  When he was a little boy in the 1960s, Reggie owned and wore a set of lederhosen that his father bought for him (along with a set for his brother, Frecky) on a trip to Germany.   

Another vintage ski-sweater knitting-pattern-book cover
Image courtesy of Handmade by Mother

One of Reggie's most treasured possessions is a Tyrolean hat, complete with all the trimmings, that he bought on a ski vacation in Cortina, Italy, a decade ago.  He plans on featuring it in an upcoming post.

A vintage ski poster for Cortina, Italy
Image courtesy of Vintage Ski World

One of Reggie's regrets is that he no longer owns an authentic, vintage Loden jacket that he bought twenty or so years ago, only to give it away shortly thereafter in a fit of temporary insanity when purging his wardrobe.  Ah, well.

A vintage postcard of the Mormon Temple
Image courtesy of The Postcards Project

Reggie's Norwegian sweater was made by Dale to commemorate the 2002 Olympic Games held in Salt Lake City, Utah.  Dale has been making sweaters for Olympic teams since the 1940s.  It was only in writing this post that Reggie realized that his sweater features an image of the Mormon Temple in Salt Lake City in its knitted design, right below the sweater's zipper!

At first it made Reggie somewhat uncomfortable that his sweater incorporated an image of the Mormon Temple.  But once he thought about it for a while, he actually liked it.  He now appreciates the somewhat bizarre humor of owning a traditional, classic Norwegian sweater that incorporates such an image; the fact that it does so does not detract from his pleasure in owning the sweater one bit.

Tell me, Dear Reader, do you have any traditional "native" clothing in your wardrobe?  If so, what kind?

Photographs of Reggie's sweater by himself

Reggie's Informal Undergraduate Ivy Style

Continuing the theme I explored in my post Reggie's Reflections on "Ivy Style", today's essay is one in which I feature images of knockabout clothing that I actually wore as an undergraduate at Yale, back in the 1970s.  Specifically, my crew letter sweater and my trusty white bucks, both of which are sufficiently talismanic for me that I have held on to them all these many years since.

While I am still able to wear the white bucks that my dear brother Frecky gave me for my twenty-first birthday, it has been rather a long time since I have been able to fit into my Yale letter sweater.  With the passage of time one's figure has become rather, um, portly, which is most unfortunate when it comes to one's ability to fit into one's college undergraduate clothing.  Not only is Reggie unable to squeeze himself into his letter sweater, Dear Reader, but the needlepoint belt that his then girlfriend, Victoria Vanderlyn, made for him during his sophomore year is, I am afraid, rather too small to clasp around Reggie's expanded middle-aged waist these days as well.

Ah well, at least Boy gets to wear them (and other articles of my clothing) from time to time . . .

The model for today's essay is George Peterson, the very affable and game husband of boy's assistant designer, the divine Nancie Peterson.  The charming and amusing Petersons spent the weekend with us at Darlington before the onslaught of Hurricane Sandy, and Boy took these photographs of George outfitted in my letter sweater and bucks as a stand-in for yours truly.  We dressed George to look as Reggie might have on an autumn weekend in New Haven back in the day, strolling around the Yale campus or on his way to a football game at the Yale Bowl.  The handsome George is also shown wearing a set of horn-rimmed spectacles similar to ones I wore as an undergraduate, and which I still wear to this day.

We have purposely posed our obliging model next to a sundial that stands on a garden walkway at Darlington, with the autumn trees and scattered leaves in the background.  Time and tide, as

they say . . .

Tell me, Dear Reader, are there articles of clothing in your closets or chests of drawers that you have fondly kept from your college days and that you cannot bear to part with—like Reggie—even though they may no longer fit you, or have fallen out of fashion?

Photographs by Boy Fenwick

Reggie's Reflections on "Ivy Style"

Boy and I spent this past weekend running around New York attending exhibitions and shows, shopping for clothes, and eating out in expensive restaurants.  We had a lovely time, Dear Reader.

The brochure for the "Ivy Style" exhibition
at the Museum at FIT

One of the reasons we decided to stay in the city instead of making our usual trek north to Darlington House was to take in the "Ivy Style" exhibition at the Museum at FIT.  As most of the readers of this blog likely know by now, FIT has mounted an exhibit that chronicles the evolution of a style of men's clothing, originally known as the "Ivy League Look," from its origins on the American campuses of Princeton, Harvard, and Yale (among others) in the first decades of the twentieth century up through the present day.  For those of us who are interested in clothing, style, and social history (and who isn't?) the exhibit is more than worth a visit.

The window at the Museum at FIT
advertising the "Ivy Style" exhibition
Photograph by Boy Fenwick

There has been much written about the "Ivy Style" exhibit in the media and on the men's "trad" clothing blogs, and it takes its name from one of the most popular of those blogs, written by Christian Chensvold.  Mr. Chensvold was involved in mounting the exhibit and is a contributor to the show's entertaining, thought-provoking, and surprisingly academic catalog.  Boy and I were invited to attend the opening of the exhibit by Thomas Cary of the Cary Collection, who lent many of the accessories featured in the exhibit, but we were, to my disappointment, unable to attend.

A brochure published by FIT showing
a Princeton blazer from the "Ivy Style" exhibit

In any event, I very much wanted to see the exhibit, and I am pleased that I did.  I am heartened that the style of men's clothing featured in it is considered worthy of a curated show at FIT and that there is a growing re-appreciation for the classic American Ivy League men's style in today's fashion circles.

One of the window displays at the Museum at FIT
Photograph by Boy Fenwick

Of course Ralph Lauren has been mining this particular vein for decades, but I am hoping this exhibit, along with the chorus of bloggers who have been championing Ivy (or Trad) style in recent years, will prompt yet even more interest among young men in this country in appreciating the integrity of dressing well again.  Hey guys, it's actually cool to wear a jacket and a tie on a weekend!

The Quadrangle section of the "Ivy Style" exhibition
Image courtesy of the Museum at FIT

The exhibit includes a catalog/book of essays by luminaries in the industry that is chock-full of photographs and illustrations from vintage periodicals and sales brochures.  It is a visual delight!

The exhibition's catalog, photographed on
one of Boy's J. Press tweed jackets
Photograph by Boy Fenwick

I've flipped through the catalog/book (published by Yale University Press) a couple of times, mainly focusing on the photographs for now, although I did take the time to read Mr. Chensvold's enjoyable interview of Richard Press, the grandson of the founder of J. Press—the venerable and iconic men's clothing store in New Haven, Connecticut, that did much to popularize the Ivy style.

The University Shop section of the exhibition
Image courtesy of the Museum at FIT

The exhibition is divided into a half a dozen or so themes, ranging from "the Quadrangle," to "the Dormitory," and my personal favorite, "the University Shop," shown in the preceding photograph.

"For God, For Country, and For Yale"
Image courtesy of the Antique Athlete

While I certainly enjoyed attending the exhibit, I had the eerie feeling while doing so that I was spending my time there staring at my own navel.  It was all very familiar to me, and much of the clothing on display could have come from the closets and cupboards of the men in my own family.  My roots in the Ivy League go back a number of generations, mostly at Yale, where my grandfather Darling, my father, and I and my brother were all fortunate to attend as undergraduates.

A postcard of Yale in the 1940s
From the collection of Reggie Darling

It was at Yale that I came to fully understand the true allure and iconographic significance of the Ivy style of dressing.  While my prep school experience at Saint Grottlesex prepared me for Yale (in many ways), it was only upon my arrival in New Haven that I came to truly appreciate the splendor of traditional Ivy League dressing.  I came to Yale as a boy, and I left it as a man.

My father and his freshman classmates in Branford College at Yale,
taken in the fall of 1940.  FD is standing in the second row on the far right
Image courtesy of Frecky Darling

When my father was an undergraduate at Yale in the early 1940s, he was clothing obsessed.  Letters written at the time to his parents in Grosse Pointe (which my grandparents saved and which I read many years later) were full of entreaties from him for yet more funds to purchase the clothing and sartorial accessories he felt were imperative in order to fit in with the smart crowd with which he ran at Yale.

I particularly liked these striped blazers from the 1920s
Image courtesy of Funky President

For my father's Yale 25th reunion, held in June 1969, I remember that all of his returning classmates were given blue-and-white striped blazers similar to the ones shown in the preceding photograph.  However, the blazers handed out were made of paper, like the Andy Warhol soup can paper dresses that were a craze at the time.  What I would give to have one of those blue-and-white striped paper blazers today!

My grandfather Darling's prep school alumni
blazer, ca. 1930, worn by Boy Fenwick
Photograph by Reggie Darling

One of my most treasured possessions is my Grandfather Darling's blazer from the English public school he briefly attended before Yale; I am showing it in the previous photograph.  As the "Ivy Style" exhibit notes, much of the clothing adopted by American Ivy League undergraduates in the early twentieth century had its inspiration in England.  But it became softer, less military, and less buttoned-up when it made its way to this side of the pond.

A vintage J. Press brochure.  I remember poring over these as a college
undergraduate, plotting out my sartorial dreams
Image courtesy of the Ivy League Look

When I enrolled at Yale in the mid-1970s, the Ivy League look was in its death throes.  Even though New Haven still had a number of Ivy style purveyors ringing the campus, almost all of them closed when I was an undergraduate there, with the exception of  J. Press (still going strong) and Barrie Ltd. (long-since closed).

Tweed jackets from J. Press and other purveyors of the type worn
by my father, my brother, and me in the 1970s and 1980s,
as displayed in the "Ivy Style" exhibition
Image courtesy of Vim and Vigor

My father used to let me charge clothes on his account at J. Press from time to time when I was an undergraduate.  Nothing crazy, mind you.  A sport jacket here, a couple of shirts there, some gray flannels, and a Shaggy Dog sweater or two.  Just enough to keep me out of rags, I suppose . . .

A sheaf of my old school ties, mostly bought
at J. Press and Brooks Brothers over the years
Photograph by Boy Fenwick

My roommate and best friend at Yale, William "Willie" Octavius Koenig IV, and I were among the handful of fellows in our class at Yale who appreciated the old Ivy League look from the 1950s and 1960s, and we spent a lot of our free time (and most of our disposable incomes) at J. Press making pests of ourselves.  One of the salesmen there, a fellow named Gabe, used to take us in the back room of the store and let us buy end-of-stock vintage shirts and ties from days gone by.  Gabe used to sell clothes to my father, too, whenever he came to town.  Willie and our friends used to call J. Press "the Squeeze" in those days, a play on its name and a comment on the injury that frequenting it did to our meager undergraduate bank accounts.

My most treasured white bucks, bought for me by my
brother Frecky from Barrie Ltd. for my twenty-first birthday
Photograph by Boy Fenwick

I was something of a throwback when I was an undergraduate at Yale.  Although I was happy that it had gone co-ed by the time I arrived there, and many of my classmates came from backgrounds different from mine—ones that didn't include prep school educations and legacy Yale histories—there was part of me that wished I had been born at a time when I would have attended Yale when it was still all male and more homogeneous and full of people like me, when people still dressed like the undergraduates shown in the following photograph from the 1950s that appears in the catalog from the "Ivy Style" exhibit.

Yale students leaving a university building, 1950s
Image courtesy of Ivy Style

But I didn't, and it wasn't, and they didn't, and that's more than okay with me.

There were still vestiges of that old Yale when I went there, though.  Although official dress codes had been abandoned by the university during the previous decade, undergraduate men during my time at Yale in the 1970s were still expected to wear jackets and ties to university-sponsored events, such as receptions at the president's house or athletic dinners.  And, as a member of one of Yale's undergraduate singing groups (and a highly social person to boot), I routinely found myself donning a jacket and tie at least several nights during the week.  I also owned a tuxedo and a set of tails when I was an undergraduate there, and I had occasion to wear them, too.

Evening wear from the first decades of the 20th
century, as seen in the "Ivy Style" exhibit
Image courtesy of Everything Just So

During my senior year at Yale, when I was a member of the Whiffenpoofs, we spent a week or so traveling with the Yale Glee Club on a Midwestern tour over the Christmas holiday break, visiting places like Pittsburgh, Buffalo, and Detroit.  At the end of the tour, during the wrap-up dinner, I was given a gag award for being the "Preppiest Guy" on the tour, much to Willie Koenig's irritation (he felt he was gypped out of that recognition).  I wish I still had the certificate—that and a lot of other things from those happy, golden, bygone days . . .

The Library section of the "Ivy Style" exhibition
Image courtesy of the Museum at FIT

After I graduated from Yale and moved to New York to begin my Wall Street career, I pretty much stopped going to J. Press, even though it had an outpost in the city.  I missed Gabe from my undergraduate days, and the more urban, corporate Brooks Brothers seemed to me to be the more appropriate place to outfit myself as a junior banker than my old haunt of tweedy J. Press.

A page from a Brooks Brothers catalog

from the 1980s

Image courtesy of Evolution of a Gentleman

It was not until I was in my forties that I found my way back to the Squeeze again.  I'll never forget the time I walked into the old store on 44th Street, the one around the corner from Brooks, and how I almost started to vibrate when I tried on the same suits and jackets there that I remembered my father wearing.  Here I was, all grown up, slipping my arms into the very same tweed jackets and worsted suits that my father wore when he was the same age as I had become . . .

Getting fitted for a classic J. Press tweed jacket, 1950s
Image courtesy of Life Images

Not surprisingly, I still mostly outfit myself from the likes of J. Press and Brooks Brothers.  I also shop at specialty stores that sell traditional men's clothing and accessories inspired by the Ivy League style, in some cases updated for a more modern sensibility.   I like the look, I feel comfortable in it, and it is one that is appropriate for men of all ages to wear.

Ivy League undergraduates of the 1960s
Image courtesy of Take Ivy

In closing, I very much enjoyed attending the "Ivy Style" exhibition at the Museum at FIT, and I encourage you, Dear Reader, to be sure to see it, too, before it closes in January.

A brochure for an upcoming "Ivy Style" symposium
at the Museum at FIT

For those of my readers who happen to be in New York in early November, FIT will be hosting a two-day symposium on Ivy Style on the 8th and 9th that is sure to be of interest.  My friend and fellow blogger, the highly entertaining and mischievously amusing Maxminimus, is scheduled to appear in the gathering's closing round-table discussion, "Blogging About Ivy," which—I am sure—will be one of the symposium's more memorable gab-fests.

Who knows, you just might even run into Reggie there, too . . .

"Ivy Style" will be on view at the Museum at FIT in New York City through January 5, 2013.

A Reggie Review: Super Bowl XLVI

Last evening Boy and I decided to watch this year's Super Bowl.

Yes, Dear Reader, you read that correctly.

Although neither of us is what I would call a football fan, we are both appreciators of popular culture, and since one in three Americans watches the Super Bowl, we decided to get off our high horses this year and join the fray (for the first time in many years) and see what it was all about.

Here are my observations:

(1) Not one of the professional ball players or coaches appeared to actually know the words to the National Anthem, and at best mumbled along to it, slack-jawed, if they even bothered to make any pretense of singing it at all.

Kelly Clarkson sang a rousing rendition of the National Anthem

This is an outrage!  If I were the coach of a football team (the very concept of which is so alien to me that I can't believe I'm even writing a sentence that begins with such words), I would order my players to learn the words to the anthem by heart (as every American should), and I would demand that they sing it loudly and with fervor at the opening of every game.  No exceptions!  Are you too cool to sing the National Anthem with feeling and reverence?  Then get off my team, Buster!

(2) The coaches were shockingly under-dressed.

If I were a coach I wouldn't even consider not dressing appropriately and respectfully for the Super Bowl, the pinnacle of the football season, and for me that means—at minimum—wearing a jacket and a tie, if not a suit and a tie.  And if I were one of the owners of a team playing in the Super Bowl, then you can believe me that I would require my coaching staff—from the head coach on down to the water boy—to, at the very least, wear jackets and ties.

The Patriot's Head Coach—I've seen people better dressed at airports!

The hoodies and nylon parkas I saw worn by the 50+ and 60+ year old head coaches during yesterday's Super Bowl, not to mention their constant spitting of phlegm during the game, was appalling.  You have an image to keep up, Gentlemen, and you have an example to set.  Show some respect!

At least the Giants' Head Coach was wearing a parka with a collar

(3) The game itself was dull and over-televised with too many cuts between camera takes, making the action (what little there was of it) difficult to follow.  As far as I could tell, it was little more than too many multiple instant replays of boring, incomplete maneuvers.  The game appeared to be mostly spent devoted to time-outs focused on fellows bumbling and milling about separated by further time-outs, at a rate of one every six to twelve seconds.  Yes, there were some interesting moments in the game, but they were few and far between.

"Can we talk about this, again?"

(4) I have to hand it to Madonna. She really rocked the stadium at half time and was a lot better than I expected.  She put on a fantastic show.  Thank god it wasn't something awful, like Mötley Crüe.

What a spectacle!  Miss Ciccone may not be quite as young or limber as she once was (and who is?), but she's a real hoofer and did some remarkable moves that people half her age would find daunting.  My hat goes off to her.

(5) The ads, which are often the highlight of the Super Bowl for many, were mostly clever-ish, but nothing to write home about as these things go.  I did like the Budweiser ad that showed the time warp of celebrations from the end of Prohibition to Brooklyn raves, which was fun and rather sexy.  Otherwise, would the Agencies responsible for coming up with Super Bowl ads please lose the focus groups, who are sucking most of the originally out of them?

A scene from the Budweiser ad that I liked

(6) Thank Goodness we taped Downton Abbey to watch afterwards.  So delicious and gorgeous to look at—even though it is devolving into soap-opera territory.  What a civilized alternative it was to the rather dull four hours we spent trapped in the relative purgatory of Super Bowl Sunday beforehand.

Tell me, Dear Reader, did you watch the Super Bowl, and if so what did you make of it?

All images taken from Google Images

Last Chance: The Balenciaga Show at the Queen Sofia Spanish Institute

For those of my discerning readers who live in the tri-state area, Reggie recommends that you hightail it to New York City by Saturday, February 19th, to see the show Balenciaga: Spanish Master at the Queen Sofia Spanish Institute on Park Avenue.  That is, if you haven't seen it yet—which Reggie hadn't, until yesterday afternoon.  On display since November 19th, the exhibit closes in New York on February 19th.  So now is your last chance to see it.  Hours have been extended until the show closes, with the galleries open until 6 p. m. on Monday and Tuesday, and until 8 p. m. Wednesday through Saturday.

The cover of the exhibition brochure

Lots of other bloggers and media have already profiled the show, so I'm not going to review it in any detail here.  Suffice it to say, the clothes are stunningly beautiful, and seeing them provides a rare glimpse into the most rarified world of Balenciaga's couture patrons.

Christóbal Balenciaga as a young man
Image courtesy of the Spanish Institute

Cristóbal Balenciaga (1895-1972) began his career as an apprentice to a tailor at the age of thirteen in his native Spain, where he learned dressmaking skills and eventually opened couture salons in Madrid, Barcelona, and San Sebastián.  He moved to Paris in 1937 during the Spanish Revolution and practiced couture there until 1968, when he closed his business.  Supposedly the shock of the news was so great for Mona Bismarck that she took to her bed for three days, devastated by it.  Poor thing, it must have been just awful for her.

The clothes are displayed against backdrops of
Spanish interiors and locations
Image courtesy of the Spanish Institute

The exhibit at the Spanish Institute displays Balenciaga's clothing dating primarily from the 1940s through the 1960s, and the outfits range in style from frothy confections of sheer feminine elegance to severe, architectural ones reminiscent of ecclesiastical robes.

A later, monastic outfit
Collection of the Metropolitan Museum, New York
Image courtesy of same

While Reggie certainly appreciates the mastery of all of the clothing on display in the exhibit, he prefers the prettier party frocks, which in some cases took his breath away.  So lovely and ladylike.

A lovely Balenciaga dress from the 1960s
Collection of the Metropolitan Museum, New York
Image courtesy of same

Reggie likes to attend such exhibits when he can because he is a student of social history of the world inhabited by the likes of the great couturiers' patrons.  Seeing what these ladies wore is a window into their (mostly) private world.  It's one thing to read about Thelma Chrysler Foy, it is another thing altogether to see the dress she actually wore.

The Institute's building on Park Avenue
Image courtesy of Wikipedia

Another reason to see the Balenciaga exhibit, aside from the clothes that is, is that it is mounted in the Spanish Institute's lovely neo-Federal townhouse on Park Avenue.  Designed in 1926 by McKim, Mead & White for the Oliver D. Filleys, it was given to the Spanish Institute in 1965 by Margaret Rockefeller Strong de Larrain, Marquesa de Cuevas (now that's a mouthful!).  The building is a fitting venue for the show, as it is the type of house that Balenciaga's patrons very well could have lived in when they frequented his salon and commissioned his elegant frocks.

For those of my readers who are fortunate to live on the West Coast, an expanded version of the show will reopen as Balenciaga and Spain at the de Young Museum in San Francisco, where it will run from March 26 through July 4. 

Balenciaga: Spanish Master
Queen Sofia Institute
684 Park Avenue
New York, New York 10065
(212) 628-0420
www.queensofiaspanishinstitute.org