Lincoln Center has nothing on the fashion parade that is Crown Heights on a Sunday.

Walking from my house to Rite Aid and the Jewish bakery on a crisp September Sunday, I was treated to a fashion show that offered inspirations from more centuries and regions than all of Fashion Week put together. 

Standing together outside the small storefront Haitian church on Schenectady Avenue, a pair of ladies in billowing white dresses, lavishly embroidered with bridal appliques, squinted into the sun and smiled, showing small gaps in their front teeth. On their heads, the traditional cupcake-shaped hat was fashioned out of matching taffeta. 

Further down St. John's Place, another woman wore a dress of a similar cut, with a similar hat, but this time in a snazzy and very 70's orange, purple and green plaid, with white lace collar and cuffs. 

Kingston Ave. was thronged with men in the same black suits they always wear, shopping for the etrog and those leaves that you need for Sukkot. I'm not Jewish enough to know about this, really, but it was the day after Rosh Hashanah and all along the front of the temple vendors sold small photos of Mosiach. The men chose their etrog carefully, although I am not sure what they were looking for. 

Headed back up Eastern Parkway, a boisterous family of unaccompanied Hasic children ranging in age from still-in-stroller to I-guess-nine-is-old-enough-to-be-in-charge, the girls all in matching pink pinafores over white turtlenecks, white tights and shiny Mary Janes, bounced past me. 

They were followed by a courting Muslim couple, the guy in Abercrombie, his slim, elegant companion in complete hijab, the smallest slit for her eyes the only part of her skin visible, the fabric that covered her wrists decorated with three thick bands of incredible gold embroidery. They were trailed. like the scene in The Godfather, by a group of stouter married women, also in black hijab, and their small girl children, heads covered with bright fabric, but faces visible. 

At the corner of Albany and Eastern, one could be forgiven for expecting to hear a Dodgers game from a car radio as a stylish older gentleman, carrying a walking stick for fashion as much as assistance, waited to cross the Parkway while towards me advanced a similarly dressed gentleman, his three-piece suit perfectly pressed, and on his arm, his wife in a gold lame suit and matching hat and shoes rested one gloved hand on her husband's arm. 

Finally, back on Schenectady, a girl barely out of Junior High bent over to tie her daughter's shoe and showed the world her purple boyshorts, which she wore under a pair of turquoise leggings comprised of a layer of sheer fabric covered by a layer of fishnet.

Reviews

[fwvalidus]

Interesting story, I'd like you to add in a couple of lines that force home a message/lesson too! Its well written though I feel like I am walking down the street encountering all of these people! I'd love it if you took a look at one of my stories/chapters too :)

[NoelHC]

Great description Beth, I could picture all these people so well. This is a bit like a photograph, just a moment stopped in time for the reader to enjoy. Nicely done.