Rihanna and the Isabel Marant coat
a tale of deeply delayed gratification
Before Clic (which closed a couple years ago), before the Fort Greene outpost of Bird, there was a store called Stuart & Wright. You might have known it as the French Garment Cleaners, thanks to the vintage signage that still hangs above the now-vacant storefront at 85 Lafayette Avenue in Fort Greene. I live in that neighborhood now, but I also spent a lot of time there in my early twenties, when I worked at Greenlight Bookstore from (before!) its opening in 2009 until mid-2013.
Observing the clientele at Greenlight shaped my style just as much as my fellow college students did, and I was always pleased to get a compliment on an outfit from people who had much more disposable income than I did. The stylish mother of an elementary schooler (who is now almost certainly in college) was the one who first told me about Saltwater Sandals as I helped her find the new Percy Jackson book in the children’s section. She sent me to Feliz, a short-lived boutique on Dekalb in Clinton Hill, where I bought a navy pair. Another customer regularly wore this Anthropologie x Pendleton collaboration poncho that I lusted after for years (and thankfully never bought, as I’d probably feel a little weird wearing it today).
I didn’t stop into Stuart & Wright often. Why would I have? I had no shortage of other places to shop. This was the heyday of American Apparel. There were more true thrift stores then: the Salvation Army on Bedford and North 7th, where I regularly found gems like floral leotards; another on Quincy Street, upstairs, where I once found a mint-condition Woolrich vest. And then there was the matter of money. I made $12 an hour at the bookstore, plus whatever else I pulled in from babysitting and odd jobs. (Ask me about the time I got a job teaching preschool from Craigslist in 2010…) Whenever I stepped into a boutique like Stuart & Wright, I felt as though there were a neon sign above my head displaying the meager balance of my bank account. The extent to which I felt like I didn’t belong was that I never even let myself take anything into the dressing room. I was too embarrassed by the thought of creating extra work for the salesperson when I inevitably handed everything back.
But I know I went to Stuart & Wright at least once, because it was there that I first saw the jacket. Isabel Marant Étoile: quilted cotton, shades of army green, substantial yet light. (To pinpoint exactly what era this was, the jacket was belted, with a shawl collar.) And trying on a jacket felt different. There was no need for the ceremony and fuss of a dressing room. I could just stand in front of the mirror and slip it on over my clothes.
I knew the price was out of reach. In my memory it was around seven hundred dollars, though an old La Garçonne listing puts it at $1,000—perhaps it had been marked down. Either way, it was so clearly out of the question that I didn’t even consider buying it. (To be clear, still wouldn’t be able to buy a $700 jacket! Some things never change…) Still, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I went back at least once to try it on again. Eventually, like most desires, it faded enough for me to go about my life.
Until—probably on Refinery29 during my regular website rotation1 at my publishing job—I saw Rihanna wearing it. And she didn’t just wear it once; she wore it again and again, taunting me! I found it online at La Garçonne, but the price was still out of reach, and it wasn’t something I thought about tracking down secondhand at the time.
A few years ago I started looking for it in earnest, but it never seemed to pop up on any secondhand sites. I’d even deleted my Isabel Marant coats and jackets alert on the RealReal until I saw a photo of Rihanna last week and started thinking about it again. (Yes, even just the sight of Rihanna makes me think of this jacket.) This time, my search turned up a couple of options: one on Poshmark and another on The RealReal. The RealReal one was too small (and missing the belt), but it’s still available (charmingly mislabeled as ‘faux fur’). The Poshmark one, though, I snapped up.
It hasn’t arrived yet, so I can’t give a final report. But I imagine there will be something both comforting and triumphant about finally owning it. Like a few other pieces from that era that still sit in my closet—my first pair of Nike Blazers, a heather gray short-sleeve hoodie from COS—it’s something I still genuinely like each time I look at it. I hope that in another thirteen years, I’ll still be happily wearing it.
(which also included Gawker, Rookie Mag, and a lot of blogs)
I love a saga!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Love this Eleanor, it's always so satisfying to find your item years later at a not $700 price. Everything eventually ends up on The RealReal I think.