This is the door to my closet.
Keep out.
For three years I have had a canvas jacket in there that I purchased online from J. Crew Factory at a very deep discount. I don’t recall how deep the discount was, but the shipping and handling probably cost more than the coat. The coat was in a color that sang melodically to me: drab.
I thought that this coat would be the perfect spring-weight addition to compliment the rest of my drab-colored spring wardrobe. But, there was a catch: this coat was unlined. Nowhere in the description was it mentioned that this coat lacked lining. I considered returning it but I didn’t want to pay the return-shipping fee for a coat that was essentially a steal. J. Crew Factory purchases cannot be returned to J. Crew stores. The Factory stores are located in East God Knows Where. I otherwise liked the coat and it fit decently. I wore it once or twice, but it never felt quite right without a lining. I like linings. I like socks. I don’t wear shoes without socks. I like that extra layer of fabric between my being and the shoe or the garment. To sound like a demented take on a movie quote linings and sock complete me. For three years that unlined coat has been exiled behind my closet door. It was a source of reliable irritation on a hanger.
This year I am doing a Big Purge, a complete clean out of my apartment. This purge includes unloading all of the clothes I no longer wear. I looked in my closet and saw that unlined jacket. It was on the Big Purge list. I tried it on and it still fit well, even better now that I’ve shed Mini Me — ten and a half pounds of girth, leading to the rediscovery of my waistline. I knew that as long as that jacket would not have a lining, I would never wear it again, but then I had a light bulb.
Light bulb: Why not get it lined?
My friend Coco is a fashion expert. I asked her where I could find lining fabric:
Coco: B&J Fabrics on Seventh Avenue. They have everything.
Seventh Avenue runs through the heart of New York’s garment district. The stretch between 34th to 39th Streets is known as Fashion Avenue.
Statue called “The Garment Worker” a worker who would today be found toiling overseas but not wearing a yarmulke.
B&J Fabrics is a family run business that’s been around since 1940. It’s located on the second floor at 525 Seventh Avenue.
Welcome.
While walking down this storied avenue I observed the Fashion Walk of Fame honoring many of the biggest names in the American fashion industry.
Calvin Klein and the toe of my sneaker.
When I entered B&J’s, I stepped into a fabric wonderland. They’re a go-to source for designers, costumers, fashion students, homeowners and even the casual doofus on the hunt for lining. Their inventory is extraordinary. Here’s a glimpse:
Fabric everywhere!
Feathers!
Polka dots!
Metallic brocade!
Raw silk!
Sequins!
Italian wool!
Irish linen!
Glow in the dark!
Delicate and fluttery!
Chainmail!
Fortunately, I did not have to search from feathers to brocade to chainmail to find coat lining. All I had to do was ask one of their many helpful and vastly knowledgeable staff members for direction. Within ten minutes of entering the premises, I found exactly what I wanted, a silver paisley jacquard.
Linings!
Five minutes later they cut two yards of fabric for my drab colored coat and I was on my way back uptown to the tailor’s.
This lining scored such a hit with the tailor, I was called and told I could have a twenty-five percent discount on the job — and it was finished three days early.
When I went to pick up my lined coat, the clerk at the tailor’s was thrilled to show it to me. He gushed enthusiastically about the quality of B&J’s lining.
Clerk at Tailor’s: This coat before was so nothing, but now, now it’s like, “Wow!”
I smiled wanly at the combined compliment and insult.
Drab colored nothing jacket at rest.
If I ever wear this jacket on a date, it is going to take all my power of self-control to resist turning it inside out.
Love my lining, love me.
Lame Adventures 