Madeline Meyerowitz goes back for the future
By Katie Pelech
Photograph by Frank Di Piazza
Wearing vintage clothing can be a queasily revealing undertaking. Not in the miniskirt–and–tube-top sort of way; more in a “your Internet browser’s history” sort of way. Vintage clothing betrays your likes, dislikes and all-out fetishes in a way that modern off-the-rack never will. Those Gap khakis say, “I was in the mall the other day, and I bought some pants”—but that beaded silk Jo Copeland cocktail dress from the ’50s, the one with the aqua chiffon neckline and the mother-of-pearl fringe? That says any one of hundreds of things, none of them innocuous.
But for those daring enough to make good on the suggestions of their Paul Poiret capes, the world of vintage clothing is an entrancing and invigorating one. Madeline Meyerowitz, owner of St. Louis–based enokiworld, is one such individual. Now in its ninth year, enokiworld has become the premier online source for hard-to-find vintage designer pieces, from the aforementioned Copeland dress to a black ’70s Hermès Kelly. It is the go-to resource for New York, London and L.A. fashion purists and the favorite indulgence of many big-name designers (whose names Meyerowitz keeps a closely guarded secret).
A hoarding habit has morphed into a successful business (two, actually, with the addition, four years ago, of enokiland, which deals in more contemporary clothing) and an entirely different way of life for the former chef and her husband, a Washington University MBA who handles the business end of things. Once devout estate-sale attendees, the two now easily sustain their business through private purchases. Perhaps because it was never expected to be, St. Louis has proved rich in fashion gems. “You see a lot of good stuff at Straub’s. I’ve seen these old women with truly just crippled feet, like they’ve been bound, and they’re in these fabulous high heels with their Chanel handbags and their big Gucci sunglasses,” Meyerowitz marvels.
Not surprisingly, Meyerowitz has a pretty well-honed sense of style herself. “My brother would give me Vogue magazine to read on the bus home when I was in sixth grade,” she says by way of explanation. So what happened next?
Do you remember when you first realized that you didn’t want to look like everyone else? It probably started with “I’m not like everyone else.” I feel different, I think different, I’m going to look different. But I probably don’t look that different anymore [looks down]. Well, I am wearing a necklace made from office labels ...
How would you characterize your sense of style? I have a 2-year-old son, so machine-washable is high on my list of criteria. Really, it depends on the season. Summer, it’s only skirts and cheap flip-flops from Target. I like cheap stuff with really expensive stuff. And there’s always something vintage going on with me—usually just one or two things, no head-to-toe.
So how do you dress during the pants seasons? I always identified more with men’s style than I did with women’s style—like, guys’ pants fit better than girls’ pants. I’d buy those polyester trouser pants from Old Navy, and I would cut the hem off so they’d be cropped, before anyone was wearing cropped pants. I went to the supermarket one time, and a bunch of teenage girls were like, “Ha-ha, the flood’s over!” And a couple years later everybody was wearing cropped pants, and I was like, “I bet those same girls are wearing cropped pants right now.”
Who are your favorite vintage designers? Bonnie Cashin and Yves Saint-Laurent are my two favorite ones. I think YSL clothes look really sexy on just about everybody at any age. He made the best pants—your legs look 10 miles long in them. And Bonnie Cashin, she’s just smart.
With vintage, you get to play dress-up not only with shapes and colors but also with history. There’s something about a ’50s-housewife look that appeals to me, like a June Cleaver who smokes—but I don’t like a lot of things that are typically Midwest, like Lilly Pulitzer. It’s just so white—and I’m white, I know I’m white, but I’m not looking to be the white boy with no rhythm. That’s Lilly Pulitzer. I’d rather be like a Justin Timberlake—a white boy with a little soul.
And do you have a favorite outfit? I’ve got this Bonnie Cashin orange sleeveless tunic, and I love wearing that with a pair of red Fiorucci pants. It’s something only a 6-year-old girl would wear, and I love it.
It seems like you prioritize fit and design over brand or trendiness. Yeah, it’s definitely about a specific item, and I’m working around that—like, I’ll want a brown skirt with a big tied waist, and I won’t care who makes it ... unless it’s Lilly Pulitzer.
Watch it. Sassing Lilly can be trouble in these parts—but, then, your cheeky descriptions of clothing are part of what you’re known for. I couldn’t imagine talking about stuff any other way, but I put my foot in my mouth constantly. I think I used the word “tit” once, which they use on BBC’s What Not to Wear, you know? Then this woman wrote in last week about how she can’t believe I used pornographic words. I’m like, OK, do you understand the word “pornographic”? Usually I answer every letter, but I didn’t with that one. What would I say? “Go dig in your Vera Bradley bag for some tissue that’s been down there for seven years and have yourself a big cry”?
