With nary a word of advertising or print copy—in fact, naught but website and postcard—there we were. The alpha shoppers, all of us boomers and beyond, who knew we were as special as the clothing on the racks just for finding out about this sale and having the conviction and courage to seek it out in the realm of rough and ready warehouses—far from the department stores and boutiques that are this species’ normal haunts..

But these, dear friends, are garments that don’t wrinkle when packed for business or vacation travel, that don’t look like they came off the, bless her heart, Eileen Fisher assembly line. That’s not all. There are colors. Bright ones that someone over 50 would look good wearing. And they’re comfortable and look great on midlife and beyond bodies—whether or not they’ve got elastic in the waistbands and without condescension or apology. Normally, they’re on the pricy side (but not haute couture) but for this sale, prices are slashed.

So, an aside, forget the fancy dressing rooms, comfy sofas for husbands and friends, attentive service and so on of the ill-demised Forth and Towne. This sale had exactly what we all wanted. Throwing clothes on and off in a communal dressing area (not even a room—husbands of customers walking right through to go to the bathroom, helpers sweeping the floors etc.), without even a hint of self-consciousness, let alone shame. It had clothes that made us all feel like we look great. That there’s nothing wrong with our body’s shape. That we are young enough to enjoy clothing with trend-setting twists and a sense of humor.

To boot, we got something else we crave: community. As competitive as each of us may have been (okay was!) hoarding an amazing slick rain jacket or silky green blouse, strangers would come running up in little more than skivvies, having found a matching pair of green pants “that would go great with that.” Upon request, should a “find” turn into a reject, garment would be dutifully passed along to whomever had asked to try it on next. This act of generosity often came at great cost, as it often took precious time away from the foraging through racks to sort through the hundred or more scantily clad bodies which frankly looked pretty much alike one to another in the dim light.

If you’re a woman, by now you are probably dying to know the name of this wondrous designer. And shhhhh, alpha shopper to alpha shopper, email me and I’ll be glad to let you know.

Carol Orsborn