“Beauty is pain,” someone muttered from the line for the Jenna Lyons closet sale, which wrapped around the block. It was 82 degrees, and the sun was beating down mercilessly on the salegoers, many of whom had been standing and waiting for several hours. It seemed more pertinent words had never been spoken.
Four days ago, when Lyons announced her closet sale on Instagram, something ruptured in a sector of the fashion ether. An overwhelming frenzy overtook the comments section of her post. “Oh my god. Are they closing down the block????? We need barricades,” one person wrote. Several commented that they were looking into booking flights to New York (it’s unclear if they actually did) for a chance to get a glimpse of Lyons, who has been hailed as a fashion icon to a specific audience. Her 26-year tenure at J.Crew, the last seven of which she served as executive creative director and president of the brand, is what put her on the fashion map. But in 2022, her reach grew when she was cast on the The Real Housewives of New York City, a call that was met with mixed reactions. Nonetheless, it introduced Lyons and her sense of style (she famously wore jeans to the Housewives reunion) to a new subset of fans.
Carol Burns and Destiny Sweeney, both entrepreneurs and salegoers, discovered Lyons through the Housewives franchise. “We’ve all seen her closet on the show, and it’s immaculate and we know some of the money is being donated,” Sweeney said (Lyons was donating one-half of the proceeds to Planned Parenthood). After recently discovering and researching Lyons’s history, Burns became enamored with her: “I went down my deep dive and found out how much of a boss she is.”
Lyons’s impact was on clear display on Tuesday as hundreds of people crowded Mercer Street (and snaked down Prince Street) to buy something from her collection. The Housewife had teased several items on her Instagram Stories, including her 2012 Met Gala outfit (a denim shirt and silky pink skirt for $600 total); a delicate blue-and-white Simone Rocha frock ($650); a simple, structured red Prada dress ($250); a brown shearling coat, also from Prada ($850); a sequined Dries Van Noten puffer jacket ($500); and garments with fun facts like “Beyoncé has this too” and “Lupita wore this!!” scribbled on their price tags ($150 and $500, respectively).
As with most celebrity closet sales, the hopeful buyers seemed to match the seller’s aesthetic. The Lyons ethos — a balanced blend of comfort and edgy taste — dripped from most of the outfits I saw on line. Bold mixed prints (plenty from the brand Farm Rio) were balanced by neutral accessories, and flat shoes like loafers, Margiela Tabis, and Doc Martens sandals won the day. I saw so many pairs of Birkenstocks I might as well have been at a clog-aficionado meetup. A few people attempted to cool themselves with pamphlets and handheld fans. Some turned for solace to the pink ice-cream truck that had ingeniously parked itself on the corner.
I took a cue from those on line and bought myself some water from the truck. I had been standing outside for only about 30 minutes, but my body had already begun to dribble with sweat. The man working the truck told me he had known about the sale beforehand. “When I finish work, then I can go in,” he joked about doing some shopping.
Megan Bagaman, a recently laid-off digital health product manager and freelance fashion photographer, had been waiting on line for nearly two hours and bought herself a lemon Italian ice from the truck to pass the time. She made the mistake of grabbing a casual lunch nearby, and by the time she arrived at the sample sale location at 2 p.m. when it was set to start, the line wrapped around the block. To her, though, it was still worth an attempt. “I love fashion, and I know whatever she has is well curated,” she said of Lyons. “It probably has a story behind it from her life as a fashion icon.” Bagaman had made peace with the fact that she might not snag an item today but hoped to possibly have a “quick hello” with Lyons nonetheless.
Random passersby asked the hopefuls what they were waiting for (a favorite New York pastime). One, a man in a blue baseball cap and an oversize button-down with silver rings on his fingers (a classic Soho uniform), used the opportunity to flirt with a woman waiting on line. I didn’t stick around long enough to determine if his efforts succeeded. A few line members stopped to take photos of a sidewalk stencil that read, “Throw some ass, free the mind.” Deep.
At some point, a woman in light-wash denim and Adidas heeled clogs walked out of the sale with a large bag of garments. I knew she had scored something massive based on her outfit, particularly the shoes. “How long did you wait? What did you get?” people yelled out from the line. “I called Jenna and asked if there was anything left. She came down to get me,” she said. Ah, to get a friends-and-family perk. She then pulled out a long brown shearling coat. It was the Prada. The crowd gasped, and some began recording her on their phones. It had been a highly sought-after item.
One of the women in that gawking crowd, T. Nicole Merritt, an event-planner culture lead, had been hoping to buy that very coat. She’d been waiting for about two hours in the heat and avoided buying something from the ice-cream truck to “stay focused.” Nonetheless, Merritt, who has been a fan of Lyons since her days at J.Crew, kept her place on line. “I’m supposed to pick up my daughter from school today, and I told my husband, ‘You’re on pickup because I’ll be in line.’”
Justin Mounkes, at the end of the line, came to the sale mostly out of curiosity and a desire to check out some of Lyons’s pieces. They told me they weren’t willing to wait more than 30 minutes to get in: “I might go take a pit stop, grab a bite to eat. Maybe some wine.” By the time I’d gone to check out the front of the line and come back, they were gone.
Danya Issawi , 2024-06-05 00:26:12
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