Gabriella Brand

I am delighted that one of my stories appears in Dress Him Up, a newly launched anthology of stories about clothing and men published by the press at New Salon Lit, and edited by a very devoted editor, Brian Centrone.

“Dandy” is fiction. I didn’t grow up in Connecticut, and my father never wore most of the outfits I describe, but the mood comes from reality. Here’s an excerpt:

I suppose I should have been happy that Papa always made the time to come to my lacrosse games. He was a classical violinist  – short of stature, with narrow shoulders and manicured nails. He had a closet full of black tuxedos, and absolutely no interest in anything athletic. He wouldn’t have known a lacrosse stick from a ping-pong paddle, but he still showed up at all my games. The problem was I was mortified by his clothes. One day he arrived at the playing fields wearing a tartan cape, like Sherlock Holmes. At five feet, six inches, with a skinny torso, he looked ridiculously dainty. His knee-high Wellington boots, highly polished to a shine, covered most of his bony legs. He even wore a beaked cap.

Fortunately, when he sat down (after first spreading his crisp, white handkerchief across the metal bleachers to protect his pants) neither his cape nor his boots were very visible. But whenever he clapped or cheered, his silly hat bobbed up and down like a duck in a pond.

What kind of man wears such a hat? I asked myself.

I could have told you what kind of hats, if any, my teammates’ fathers wore to lacrosse games at Totten Day School. There might be one or two New York Yankees caps and maybe a Red Sox cap because Connecticut people can’t make up their minds about teams. Sometimes Diane’s father would wear a canvas hat with the logo of The Black Dog from Martha’s Vineyard. Lucky Diane. Her father was tall and muscular, the outdoorsy type who spoke in monosyllables. He always looked as if he’d rather be spending the afternoon alone on his sailboat.

Papa was the only spectator who looked like he was headed for Dartmoor to check out the demonic Hounds of the Baskervilles.

New Salon press calls this anthology “…. another stylish yet soulful take on how what we wear reflects who we are. In these eleven sharply tailored stories, fashion becomes a thread that binds personal history, desire, memory, and transformation. You won’t find superficial tales of suiting here…”

Another one of my fashion stories appeared a few years back in another New Salon Lit anthology, Dress You Up, a companion volume to the latest publication.