Dallas Market
The day began at 2:45 a.m. Really 1:00 when I was awakened by a bad dream. Knowing that I needed to get some sleep before the 2:45 alarm didn’t help any. I tossed about trying to find a sleepable position until the alarm went off.
Cameron and I were going to Dallas for the Fashion Market to select clothes for the spring, summer, and early fall on the same week that snow fell down South. One of the benefits of going to the Atlanta airport in the wee hours of the morning is that there is not any traffic; perhaps it is the only time there is not the usual congested downtown traffic. Even so, when we arrived at Hartsfield -Jackson Airport, we found that several airport parking lots were closed—FULL, the signs said—though there were obviously many spaces unfilled. After driving around to the different parking locations, we finally parked in the deck adjacent to the terminal. Another advantage to having an early morning flight is that getting through security is pretty easy, especially if you have the Clear Eye pass. Finally on the plane to Dallas, I promptly fell asleep to the drone of the engines, my head bobbing up and down as I tried to sleep sitting upright.
Once in Dallas, we Ubered from the airport to the hotel. Whenever I revisit Texas, it takes a moment to re-adjust my line of view to take in the lonely but familiar horizon. The scraggly oaks diminutive after the lofty arbors of north Georgia still provide an oasis against the hard cityscape. After quickly checking into the Virgin Hotel, we were off to the World Trade Center and floors of fashion. Fifteen floors of fashion and décor, though we primarily shopped the 12th and 13th floors.
Cameron and I have been going to fashion markets for the past 11 years, ever since she opened her boutique, Magnolia Moon. We went first to Dallas, then for several years we met at MAGIC in Las Vegas. Now we have the Atlanta mart just down the freeway from us. But it is good to be back in Dallas. Fashion markets are exciting because there are so many designs and fabrics and sparkly things to see. There is an energy about the fashion industry that is catching. A DJ has music thumping through the building, and individual brands have their own music jiving in their spaces. When we ventured on our last day to the more sedate Men’s Market, we noted the lack of noise, music, energy. We are used to seeing women crowd along racks and racks of clothes looking for styles their customers will like and that will sell. As we work our way through the array of colors and designs, we can envision some of our customers in a dress or top, “Teresa would love this” or “I can see Debbie wearing that,” or imagine the events and outings that call out for new clothes, vacations to the beach or lake, graduation, weddings.
After our early get up and flight, we were able to visit five of our favorite brands, selecting and editing styles, writing orders, and then marching to the next brand’s showcase. Mainly I hold the clothes that Cameron selects and hand them over to the young woman who sets them aside for us. They are all stylish young people, usually women, who work the shows for their brand. I give nods of approval or wrinkle my nose at certain looks, and suggest things we should consider, like the cut and fit even though we can’t try clothes on. How does the bosom fit in that low-cut dress? Are the straps on the sundress adjustable? Is there a zipper?
All of this is exhausting: the decisions, the sensory overload, so many floral blouses, the walking and standing. The first day in Dallas I clocked more than 11,000 steps. All of this stress requires boosters in the form of mimosas and cups of wine, a lunch of sushi and poke in the 15th floor restaurant overlooking downtown Dallas. Sometimes we don’t really get our creative buying juices going until we have had a mimosa. During the day different vendors host complimentary drinks, which gets us running to get in line for a free splash of drink. The cerveza and tamales hosted by the Western wear folks took a jarring turn when the cap of one of my molars came off in the too-doughy tamale.
At the end of the day, we were so tired that when we went to our room at the Virgin, we flopped on our beds and had a nice nap before going to the hotel restaurant for a light dinner of charred brussels sprouts and jicama salad. After years of staying in the resorts of Las Vegas with their vast casinos blasting music, glaring lights and slot machines whistling, people zombied out with gambling, drinking, partying, and the multiple, high-end restaurants spread around the resort campus, we appreciated the quiet and ease of staying at the Virgin. So much for partying at Market! Even when we went to Las Vegas, sin city, the most partying we ever did after a full day on our feet was to go to a nice restaurant and eat some good food and share a bottle of wine. We had thought about going to the Thai restaurant we had visited the last time in Dallas, but it seemed to have closed. We opted instead to go down to the cozy restaurant at the Virgin where a three-piece combo was playing music, and the waiters knew us. We could relax a little, brainstorm, and plan. This time, well into January of 2025, the theme of our discussion circled around fashion in the time of political repression, how fashion and culture are always changing and blending influences. Fashion is not just pretty clothes and boutiques are not just about making money. Fashion and small boutiques like ours reflect and shape culture, provide a kind of third space where people can imagine themselves as part of a community.
