In August 1999 I decided that I was going to start a business, BraTenders, to supply Broadway, film, and television with undergarments, hosiery and accessories for stage and screen productions. This would be the next iteration of the store I worked at from 1977-1999, S&S. After the 10 ft living room windows in my apartment became blocked by boxes of merchandise, BraTenders moved into its first home at 400 west 42nd in March 2001.
On Sept 11, the world stopped and held its collective breath. The theater shut down for one night, on 9/11. I remember the same feeling of surreality I have now, how could this be happening, still, again? Life was very weird for a while. NY was quiet, but the city set about getting back to business. One day when we were dropping off an order at the Music Hall, we heard on the radio about an Anthrax scare in multiple locations.
We couldn’t buy bridal bustiers, a popular item for brides, because the military had requisitioned all the hook and eye closures from the few manufacturers who still produced them domestically. So warehouses sat filled with bustiers missing the most essential part, unable to be sold. So what’s a Fairy Bra Mother to do when the next version of The Stepford Wives film wants 30-40 bustiers?
I am fucking relentless about getting what I want, and helping my customer, so I convinced the vendor to contact the retailers who sold his bustiers, and have them ship their stock to me, and we’d pay them. When we told them it was for a movie with Glenn Close, Nicole Kidman, and Bette Midler, everyone rushed to send theirs.
Or that time we collected the trashed hosiery from each show for a few weeks, and sent them, per request, to the soldiers stationed wherever Desert Storm happened. They specifically requested pantyhose to use as filters for the equipment and machinery they used that were getting mucked up by the desert sand. So we put treats and love notes in with the hosiery, “hey, Chita Rivera wore these last night”
BraTenders moved into its current location in the Film Center Building in Hell’s Kitchen NYC in 2003. By 2008, we worked with all the shows running on and off Broadway, their union and non union touring companies, and a multitude of performing arts companies, TV shows, and movies. We were busy day and night, 6 days a week, and had a staff of 4, with the need for more help. We maintained a steady upward pace until the mid teens, and then plateaued.
The business changed after I divorced Alan, and he left a lingering legacy of damaged relationships and unhappy customers. His narcissism and smug arrogance cost us Radio City and the Rockettes. His early actions put us in hot water with WIL, the costume designer of the moment back then, with multiple smash hits running on the great white way. It’s a chapter in the mammoir I will be writing forever.
Business was always a roller coaster. But for a few years, we were able to count on the spring and fall seasons on Broadway, Christmas shows, summer stock, The Delacorte and Public Theater. in between I gave interviews, had guest spots on reality shows, became a Bralebrity.
Then I started having physical problems: sciatica, bulging disks, pinched nerves, weak muscles, and every joint eaten and deteriorated by arthritis, and 35 years on my feet for work. Knee replacement. Fractured humerus, not fucking funny. torn labrums, ACLs, menisci. and mental anguish, depression.
2019 was a decent year, though it was then that the trouble with our primary supplier of stage tights became problematic. I usually placed annual orders in January, during the slow time at the hosiery mill in NC. We ordered between 250- 750 dozen tights. All the legs on Broadway wore these as a base layer. sometimes 2 or 3. they came in 6 skintones. and 6 sizes. Blue Heaven hosiery was our bread and butter.
When I called in January 2019 to place our order, nobody answered the phone, or responded to email. this continued for a few weeks, I’d call, email, nobody responded. Finally, the owner called and said, yeah, sorry, we’re closed and out of business. it’s not your fault, don’t worry. What an odd thing to say. And holy crap, what now?
I embarked on a quest to find a replacement for, or replicate those tights, somehow, some way. Without that most core of core products, we were fucked. After months of phone calls, and referrals, and networking, I found a hosiery factory that could custom make things for a large enough quantity. I invested thousands of dollars testing the colors in various deniers, trying to create a product that this finicky market would like and use.
And just as we were about to place our first order for a few hundred dozen, from customers happy to try a replacement, and not have to go through the hassle of starting from scratch with wardrobe staples, Covid made a guest appearance at a Broadway show, and the great white way went dark. BraTenders did too.
I thought we were done. Broadway people I was friendly with called, and we said our final farewells, unsure if we’d even live through whatever the hell plague was infecting us. My staff and I parted ways, and began the absolute fucking nightmare of applying for unemployment. everyone was isolated and alone. nobody knew the truth of what was happening. there were freezer trucks storing dead bodies parked a few blocks from where i lived. manhattan was ghostly.
We were closed for 21 months. Dawn and I went to the shop a few days a month, Shopify had contacted me and NYC small business resources helped to build an e-commerce store, a shopify website so folks could shop online. Alan had resisted having a website. Now, the whole world was getting online, even me.
I have wonderful staff of young women now, 2 fitters and an admin. We are in the final phase of this business. Thanks to loans, the business has floated for 2 years, but now the money is gone and the world’s gone mad. His Heinous Donut tRump is the president elect, and hellfire is about to rain on america. nobody is buying bras. hell, maybe it’s even a crime to be selling them. Our business fell off a cliff, seemingly over night, even though I know it’s been heading toward that cliff since 2020.
We haven’t recouped our Broadway business. And now I don’t like working with them, and don’t want to work with them anymore. They are rude, entitled and disrespectful, and only bring their problems, including my fave, we can’t find it anywhere. They expect us to work for free, and waste hours of our time. My young employees cant believe the level of unprofessionalism and incompetence from costume people at all levels of the food chain. They are so full of drama of their own making. Go away, when you spend a dime in my shop maybe i’ll be inclined to help. Go ask whomever works where you’re buying your other show shit to find it.
i have lost my appetite for this ridiculous game. i’m tired.
to live in a kakistocracy run by a bunch of frat boy billionaires trying to wreck it all for a quick laugh? fuck this shit, truly, just fuck this shit.
bankruptcy attorney meeting imminent. step 1
my lawyer of 25 years cannot help, or will not
my “financial” advisor, whom I’ve known for 24 years, also, cannot now help me anymore. His plate is too full with life to be bothered with my meager flailing one
Iguess they are part of the 20 year cycle that needs to close.
Fuck. This. Shit
