Debby Does…

I don’t remember the first time my mom took me shopping, but shopping with Judy was a regular occurrence. Though in the early days, we often had very little money, sometimes my grandparents would treat us to an outfit or my mom would have stashed away some fun money for us to use.

As a child of the 1970s, I learned to love the department store, especially one with a lunch counter or, even better, a little restaurant tucked away on the second floor, which seemed so very fancy to me. I loved the escalators and elevators, the pretty ladies at the perfume and make up counters, and, most of all, the evening wear department. We’ll get back to that later.

My mom was pretty conservative and traditional about her wardrobe, so I learned to love the preppy, classic clothes from L.L. Bean, Lands’ End, Pappagallo, Carroll Reed, J. Crew, and Lanz of Salzburg. She taught me that you didn’t need a lot of trendy clothing, but that a few versatile and classic pieces would serve me well. Lots of these clothes were ordered through catalogs. If you knew my mom, you can remember the piles of catalogs on the counter. She would have you fold down the corner of the page that held something you wanted and, come Christmas or Birthday, that item just might appear. This system let her plan and budget, but still get to make dreams come true. The department store experience was different.

Locally, we spent a great deal of time at a family owned store called House and Garden. They had lots of things for the home, but also a very nice children’s clothing department. It was not inexpensive, so we went for special occasions—a dress for Christmas or confirmation, a birthday toy for a friend, or maybe a wedding gift. A friendly Shar Pei always roamed the store and there was something comfortingly familiar and happy about being there. When they closed, it was truly the end of a local era. I have yet to recover.

After my grandparents passed, our financial situation changed and my mom learned the art of the splurge. It was about this time that we discovered Doneckers in Ephrata, Pennsylvania. Also a family run store, Doneckers had a number of establishments in Ephrata including a shoe factory turned into an artists’ center, a wonderful restaurant, and an inn. My godmother swore by shopping at Doneckers, and finally we discovered its magic.

On a designated Saturday, we would drive the 2.5 hours to Ephrata with a day of shopping ahead. The first necessary step was to make reservations for lunch. Lunch was not to be missed. Then, we would begin in The Men’s Store, where Geoffrey always helped us. Jim might get a suit or pants and a jacket. He would pick those things out before lunch and then, after lunch, return to see the shirts and ties Geoffrey had selected, all stunning. They had a tailor on staff at all times, took care of the alterations, and then shipped your purchases to your home. It was like Christmas when those boxes arrived.

I spent a great deal of time in my dream world—the Evening Wear Department. It was the days of pageants, so I was often shopping for gowns, cocktail dresses, and appearance wardrobe. Jeannette, originally from Linwood (home of the aforementioned House and Garden), was my personal shopper each visit. She was one of the loveliest women I had ever met and was as invested in my pageant attire as we were. She would have earrings and accessories brought to me to try with each gown and dress. I bought some truly stunning pieces there and only regret that I was not able to buy my wedding gown at Doneckers. I still have gowns from there and at least one of them might still fit!

Doneckers also had one of the largest collections of shirtwaist dresses known to man. This was my mom’s official teaching dress, so we always stocked up when we were there. As you looked around for your selections, lovely ladies would come and take your garments, set up your dressing room, acquire the seamstress, and attend to your every need.

It was not inexpensive, but it wasn’t supposed to be. Their sales were epic and there were bargains to be found. Still, it was about something else; something almost intangible and ineffable, but I would know it if I saw it.

There was furniture, home goods, art, and a Christmas department. It was always busy and served as a true representation of what service and customer attention should look like. As I got older and left pageants behind, we continued to shop there once a year and the owner’s daughter, Jenny Donecker, always recognized us and even called us by name. It was remarkable.

Sadly, in 2008, due to economic issues, Doneckers closed their doors forever, breaking my heart and the hearts of many others.

It wasn’t just that it was a fancy place. It was an experience. The staff was committed to providing that experience and each visit there was special. It was reminiscent of a different time when we took our time and allowed ourselves to enjoy the moments, the smells, the fabrics, the lunch, and the luxury of shopping.

I miss those days. I miss my mom. I miss her philosophy that you could always try on one crazy thing because you were already taking off your clothes. More than that, I miss the pace of shopping, the connections, the conversations, and the camaraderie of the department store. I cannot begin to count the times that someone offered an opinion to me as I looked at myself in a dressing room mirror or the times I returned the favor. As an amateur “professional” shopper, I love helping people select clothes that make them feel good. It makes me feel great, and I maintain that it brings us together.

Full disclosure: I admit to ordering a lot of clothes online these days and I have to tell you, it’s just not satisfying at all. There was something either exhilarating or potentially humiliating in coming out of that dressing room in the outfit du jour, but it was a humanizing place where we all came together, cursed the mirrors, and tried to make each other feel better about ourselves. When you add a dedicated and skilled sales’ staff to that equation, the possibilities for connection and satisfaction expand exponentially. I’m guessing returns would be down too.

Today, the kind of customer service and attention that Doneckers espoused is virtually non-existent. Now, if I go into a store and receive extraordinary service, I am taken aback and almost uncomfortable. I simply don’t know what to do with that anymore, but I can tell you when it happens, I spend more money. Just a thought for the retailers of the world.

I often wonder if we’ll come back to this type of shopping experience. I truly hope it happens within my lifetime. It taught me so much about service, etiquette, fashion, value, decorum, and grace. The department store was a sort of hallowed space where we tried to be at our best, look our best, and see what was best. The leisurely stroll through floors, rooms, racks and central areas, full of beautiful items, was the event of the day. It was written on the calendar with intention, not by way of a mad dash after work or before an appointment; it was an occasion that we indulged in occasionally. It wasn’t a chore or an obligation; it was a privilege. It was one of those special things to which we looked forward.

I wish I could remember what I always got for lunch at Doneckers. I searched high and low on the interwebs for their old menu, but, alas, I could not find it. It was a French inspired menu, and they once even hosted an event with Chef Georges Perrier of Le Bec Fin fame. I do feel that there was a soup I loved, perhaps a clam chowder, something with puff pastry, and always a glass of wine. With our bellies full and energies relaxed from the wine, the perfect way to finish our day was to shop bit more, pick up our purchases (which they held for you until your departure so you didn’t have to carry those pesky bags), and bask in the glow of perfect service before the drive home.

I’ll never forget those sweet days, especially because they were with my mom and Jim, but largely because I don’t think there will ever be another Doneckers, or another House and Garden for that matter. I think people miss it without even knowing. I understand the need for speed, frugality, convenience, and anonymity. Sometimes I want it too, but many times, especially on a lazy Saturday, I wish I could go back in time and have a Doneckers’ day.

I think maybe this is “Part One” of places I loved and learned to shop. What were your places that offered incredible service and selection?