There is a lonely ginkgo tree on Fifth Avenue between 38th and 39th Streets. Its branches catch the sun on the east side of the street facing Lord & Taylor’s well-worn facade.
Set at the edge of the hard-packed soil at the base of the tree is a golden plaque honoring Dorothy Shaver, the first female president of a major American department store. As a native New Yorker, I have a strong sentimental attachment to that store, and to that plaque.
Lord & Taylor was the eastern anchor of what was once a thriving garment center. The blossoming of its gracious windows every Wednesday was treated like a Broadway opening.
It was also the first store to pluck American designers from obscurity. I know this because I was one of those designers.
Over the years Lord & Taylor has lost much of its well-earned luster. But for me, it has remained a comforting friend. I walk past it every day on my way to my office, watching as it slips slowly into obscurity.
Now, that great institution is closing its doors. Those glorious windows will be shuttered and that lonely ginkgo tree will face the challenge of a new era.
Most of all, the shiny plaque honoring that forgotten woman will be on its own. Not totally though. As long as I am around, it will be pampered and polished.
Editor’s Note: The diary entry first ran the New York Times on January 2.
