FAREWELL, LILLY: MS. PULITZER LEAVES MADISON
Sarah Solomon is the mistress of all media, from her best-selling book to her devastating Twitter account to her comedy pieces for The New Yorker and McSweeney’s. She’s also an expert on the social implications of rarefied retail, so we called her in for her thoughts on the departure of Lilly Pulitzer’s Madison Avenue store.
Lilly Pulitzer is sportswear for my favorite activity: Day Drinking.
Whether you’re splayed out poolside on a chaise lounge pretending to watch a polo match, or frittering away your alimony on cocktails like “Boca Bitch,” Lilly’s bold and bright designs make a statement that’s hard to ignore. It’s become a summer uniform for slightly problematic girls who are no stranger to the inside of a frat house, and an upper middle class signifier that has the advantage of not being ridiculously expensive. I used to wear it ironically, but now I own too much of it to pretend like I don’t exhaustively hunt for certain vintage prints on eBay, or know which collection and year pieces hail from. In certain circles, the latter is a decent party trick.
That’s why I was shocked and dismayed to see that the Madison Avenue Lilly is closing on January 10th, with no intention of reopening elsewhere. Although I haven’t been partial to some of the brand’s latest collections that are a far cry from the company’s beginnings (the last I coveted was the vintage-inspired collection brought back in honor of Lilly’s passing), the store is still a shopping landmark that’s easily accessible on foot. Plus, it was the only way New Yorkers could shop the infamous Lilly sale in-store. The “After Party” sales only happen twice a year and regularly tank the Lilly website through the sheer amount of white girls frothing at the mouth trying buy slightly discounted rompers and mini dresses.
The brand as it appears now is vastly different than the Palm Beach empire Lillian McKim Pulitzer started after coming out of a mental rehab facility. The doctors’ diagnosis? She wasn’t having a mental breakdown, she was just rich and bored. To more effectively combat ennui the new mother started a juice stand outside the family orange groves (she eloped with Peter Pulitzer when she was 21), and the iconic shift was born out of sartorial necessity. Lilly needed a dress that could keep her cool in the Florida heat, was made of thick enough cotton to go commando (she hated underwear), and was screen-printed with wild colors to hide the inevitable juice stains.
The dress became more popular than the juice, and the universally flattering sheaths became de rigueur for the Palm Beach elite, charming Jackie Kennedy and other tastemakers of the era. (Jackie also was quite fond of Jack Rogers sandals, which are also usually found in Lilly lovers’ closets.) Lilly kept designing until 1984, sold the company in the 90s to Sugartown Worldwide Inc., and it was then purchased in 2010 by Oxford Industries for $60 million.
Although the brand has gone through many iterations through the decades, Lilly Pulitzer at heart remains an easy, breezy state-of-mind. It’s a sartorial punch that’s sticking it to the system, while still being comfortably mainstream. My coworkers are confused when I wear the signature bright and sometimes garish designs to the office, and I’d prefer to not explain that my inappropriate use of resort wear is a silent protest.
I'm inclined to dress like a slutty soccer mom as is the custom of my people (a New England transplant on the Upper West Side). Infantilizing myself in my thirties isn’t the vibe I’m going for, but I can’t say no to Lilly’s wild and complimentary vanity sizing where a 5’8” chick still needs a size small. Or the thicker cotton pieces I can still dig up on eBay and thrift stores dotting the Upper East Side.
In the words of OverheardUES, “Lilly now pushed out of the Upper East Side and we can’t help but wonder, is the rent really too damn high?” If a Palm Beach heiress’s brand can’t survive uptown, then what chance do any of us have?
Hopefully see you soon, Lilly, the neighborhood’s not the same without you.
Photo: Slim Aarons