The Most Famous American Outfit in Novel Form

 Nicole Mary Kelby’s THE PINK SUIT

Contrary to the title, Nicole Mary Kelby’s “The Pink Suit” is hardly about Jacqueline Kennedy at all. What it is about: Immigrants, the American Dream, patience, dedication, expectations, presentation and, in the broadest terms, love.

Kelby offers a totally original and unexpected angle than what I expected from a story called “The Pink Suit.” I thought it might be a fictionalization of Jackie’s accounts, tales and tragedies. I don’t even remember if the first lady herself has a full line. I thought it could be the tale of some 20-something making-it-on-my-own wearing her first Chanel pink suit doing some cool new job in the big city, sorta Mary-Tyler-Moore-esque. Not so (although, the more I think about what I would expect, the more I’m realizing, why isn’t this a novel? I should totally make this series; it could be the next “Confessions of a Shopaholic.”) The angle Kelby does take is telling the (fictionalized) story of Kate, the seamstress who created and cared for every inch of that famous pink suit.

Hold the phone, you say. That pink suit was made by Chanel!! (Guys, am I losing you? I feel like 85% of American women have some awareness of this fact; it’s not even a fashion thing, it’s an Americana thing). It’s true that the suit was designed by Chanel, the cut and color dreamt into creation by the Parisian fashion house, but, as Jacqueline was criticized for pouring money into the design houses overseas and spending frivolously on non-American goods, a new standard had to be set. The First Lady’s clothing could be Chanel designs, but they must be American made.

This is where Kate comes in. An Irish-Catholic Immigrant, Kate’s job in the couture Chez Ninon dress shop offers her a glimpse into a world of elegance, opulence and fashionability almost opposite from her national roots and her close-knit neighborhood. Although she could never imagine sporting such decadent clothing, Kate spends her days crafting the luxurious wear of East-Coast royalty, including, after commission, the First Lady.

Note here: It’s incredibly interesting the way they discuss Jacqueline in this novel, as I’m assuming is evident of the time. For one, I’m totally used to calling her Jackie O., or Jacqueline Kennedy; more often than not, in this novel, the First Lady is just referred to as “the Wife.” It’s so crazy to think about in our generation, when ‘the wife’ is often way more popular than her husband. I mean, could you imagine the Vogue cover of Michelle Obama saying “How she supports Hubby,” or “The First Wife,” rather than the headline they ran with in 2009, “The First Lady the World’s Been Waiting For,” as if it’s she herself we put into office. And really, I have like, zero idea what Kate Middleton does all day (I assume powder her baby and buy Burberry), but we absolutely knew what she wore doing it, while when asked what William did that day…

What I’m trying to get at here: it’s odd to be seeing this time period where the women are seen as an aspect of the man’s personality (just “his wife” rather than “herself”) instead of her own heroine, even more so with this amazing strong, groundbreaking woman (she’s the reason I can buy mini skirts mainstream today and it’s incredible!!)that lived on past her husband, making her own right as an American Icon.

Back to Kate: the harder she works on this suit for ‘the wife,’ the more she’s torn between passion and convention (is this a missing Jane Austen novel??). There’s two paths she is being asked to follow: first, opening shop and becoming the star seamstress of this New York fashion house, or two, settling down and becoming the wife of the man she loves, the humble butcher Patrick. The first offers a life of glamour, albeit a lonely one. The second, love, caring, a family, but nothing to brag about. It’s so clear to us now, hey! why doesn’t she just marry the butcher and leave at 9 am for the fashion house? Women can have it all!!! But of course, this is the 60s, pre-Betty Friedman-feminism and that possibility seems absurd.

Is this sounding like a period piece chick lit? It totally is. But you know what else is very time specific, work-versus-love, passion/convention tale of the working woman? Nora Ephron’s “You Got Mail.” So what if people think you’re going in for an ultra-feminine read? People that right off female-drive lit in this day and age are probably still the same people calling Jackie O. “the wife.” Which means: they’re out of it. Screw it ladies (and guys that I haven’t lost at this point), read this because it’s fun and you’ll understand it, and it’s eye opening, and you’ll love it.