A sleep story from the 1980s:

I could fall asleep but I could not stay asleep. Sleep has never usually been a problem for me. I can sleep anywhere, any place, anytime. At that point In my life I was working in fashion. When you work in fashion you are usually flavor of the month. So, for a long time I had a very short shelf life. Jobs had a tendency to last only nine months. I would be out of work. I was low level so occasionally, unemployment was not a bad thing. I didn’t have to pay for commutation or for pantyhose. However, extended periods did cause me distress. I found myself in the position of having to accept the job, any job.

I have always been the anti preppy. Before I grew into my present classic persona, I was the edgy one. I dyed my hair aubergine in the late 1970s. I was at least a decade ahead of my time. I wore pajamas to work. I embroidered my jeans long before it became the thing. But here I was out of work and desperate. I was offered a job at Izod Lacoste. It was right at the height of the preppy movement. I had to do what I had to do.

I was interviewed by a gorgeous man but he was not my type and did nothing for me. Plus, work affairs have always struck me as a form of incest. I wasn’t to work for him directly. I was assigned to merchandising which was run by an older man in conjunction with a younger woman. E was the only woman I have ever known that freely admitted to sleeping her way into her job. She was having an affair with the man who hired me. He was rich and married. I was a threat to her although I did not know it. She was very New York. She had grown up in the Bronx and had the matching accent. He had frosted layered hair like Farrah Fawcett, silver booties with wings, black leggings and low decolletage. She snapped gum and wore heavy perfume. Jay, her counterpart was an older man with numerous children. He didn’t live far from me on Long Island and sometimes we found ourselves on the same train. I would move to another car. His teeth were rotting so his breath was always bad. He wore cheap polyester so he always had an odor too. Despite all this, he was well meaning and kind. He was also terrified of E because he desperately needed to hold on to his job.

The office itself was terrible. It was on 7th Ave. close to the railroad. It wasn’t the glamorous building at that time although it since has become one. Back then, it was filthy and I do not recollect any glamorous clients. The showroom and design offices were on the 23rd floor and the operations offices were on the 24th floor which was the top of the building. There were little dishes with rat poison in each of the corners of the office that I was in. It was a huge room. The desks were the old metal kind. They were grouped in clusters  of four and six pressed together. One of the managers was a woman who bore a remarkable resemblance to Fred Flintstone. Most of the other employees were younger than me and that was saying a lot because I was just 24. They were not experienced and did not know what a proper office environment was. The conditions would not have been acceptable in the present day. Inappropriate comments were made all the time. For example, a young couple worked there and had become pregnant. The girl was contemplating an abortion but before that could happen, she actually miscarried. Fred told everyone she’d had an abortion. There was another girl with luxuriant red curls. She had been adopted by a Jewish family. Fred told her that she was clearly Irish because Jewish people did not have hair like that. This is where I found myself.

Shopping has also been an escape add therapy for me. Clothing also allows you to reimagine yourself. It can be a new way of presenting yourself to the world. It can be armor, literally and metaphorically. Some outfits make you impenetrable. Suits and pearls have always been a defense. The act of shopping itself has always been soothing. It’s a hunt; a journey, an exploration.

Shopping could not me soothe me there. It was at the height of the preppy movement. The nearest store was Macy’s. I used to love Macy’s. There was The Cellar which was revolutionary at the time. All kinds of exotic foods were available down there. The houseware floors were imagination worthy. The prices could be accessible. I purchased a beautiful black velvet reversible white satin bedspread for $25 on sale. I was only making around $200 a week so it was a huge investment. My boyfriend called it the shroud. However, entering the store from the 7th Ave. side, you were greeted by huge Izod signs. There was no escape. I felt haunted and trapped.

Sunday night sleeplessness became an issue. I have always gone to the bathroom during the night. My mother was always fascinated that I could go right back to sleep. I used to explain to her because that was because I did not put on my slippers, tie my bathrobe and turn on the light before I went to the toilet. However, Sundays became an issue for me. I literally would have to urinate every 15 minutes. It was not only a feeling but I actually did urinate. Of course, it wasn’t a lot and it hurt. I tried not drinking any fluids after 4:00 PM. It didn’t work. I always read before bedtime. Reading and relaxing didn’t work either. I would arrive for work on Monday, totally drained. It was clearly Izod related. I had no problems sleeping on a Sunday if Monday was a holiday. To say I was unhappy with an understatement.

I was considered a troublemaker and an agitator. Once, my desk was placed facing the corner as if I was a child being punished. Things came to a head. I lost it one day. I forget exactly what caused the eruption but I remember standing up at my desk, pounding on it and screaming obscenities. It was as if I had joined the club. I lost my outsider status. I was horrified and realized that it was definitely time to go. I found a job I actually liked. That is a story for another day.

There is always a silver lining. I did meet people that I held for many years in my life. I learned early about AIDS, long before the general population. I’ve also developed another great coping mechanism. E would yell at me. As I said, we were on the 24th floor. I would picture an enormous King Kong hand coming in the corner window, grabbing her and dropping her. This allowed me to gaze at her with a slightly glazed expression but without processing the word she said. I have been able to share and use this technique over the years with great success.

My Sunday sleeplessness disappeared once I left the job. I went on to have a career that I loved where on Sunday night I was excited to be going to work on Monday morning.