Elly, the Bag Lady of Rhinebeck
by Mary Leonard

In Rhinebeck, my friend Elly is known as "the bag lady," but so far she has not taken to the streets with bags in a shopping cart. Elly is a collector of purses, 700 to be exact, and she displays her finds in a beautiful house overlooking the Hudson. When she ventures into Rhinebeck, she chooses a different purse to accessorize and define her attire for the day.

Her interest in purses began when she was a child in Greece. Her mother was handy with the needle, or as Elly says, "good in the domestic arts." She made Elly purses out of leftover material from homemade dresses. " I would ask my mother to make a bag or purse and my grandma for old embroideries for me to sew on. They were simple drawstring affairs made from scraps of old party dresses that I carried entangled in my fingers." It was years later, however, while Elly was managing La Parmagiana in Rhinebeck, that she began her collection. Passing antique stores on the way to make daily bank deposits, she became fascinated by vintage bags. She started to buy them for five or ten dollars a piece, viewing them as toys or a diversion from her long days in the restaurant. Elly told me "Every girl needs some play in her life!"

During my visit to Elly's house, she struck me as someone who was good with play and display. She keeps her collection arranged carefully in every room of her house. One sunny room is filled with bookcases overloaded with Lucite pocketbooks sorted by color: clear and white in one case and amber in another. Elly knew exactly how the bags were made and showed me three layers of plastic, the middle layer containing the color or design, and the others protecting it as if it were an art work under glass. The bags were boxy and architectural, each like a miniature building. I remembered owning one as a child. I would disturb the Sunday congregation by opening and closing the clasp so much that the bag had to be taken away. Lucite pocketbooks were only made from 1952 through 1954. Starting in 1955 manufacturers developed a mold for a one-step plastic bag, which Elly said cheapened them and removed the craftsmanship from the design. Less expensive plastics replaced Lucite as the material of choice, and the hand-cut and glued boxy pocketbooks became obsolete because of cost.

All of the designer names were still tucked inside: the Original Fre-mor, Patricia of Miami, Llewellyn and Willardy. The design of one purse had a fishbowl effect: Elly and I both stared at the fishtails behind the Lucite waiting for them to move. "That's my favorite," Elly said. In truth, however, Elly tries to be fair to all her purses by taking a different one out into the world every day.

Elly laments that purse collections are not taken that seriously by most museums and auction houses, even if the Metropolitan Museum has a few in their Costume Department. In 2001 Elly exhibited at the City Museum in St. Louis. The exhibit illustrated how changes in women's roles over time have determined the shape, size and overall design of their purses. Despite the success of the exhibit, Elly is not interested in public exhibitions as much as arranging, sorting and learning. Her father was an archaeologist and as a child she played with his findings, doing the close examination and sorting with ancient fragments. Later she worked as a guide at archaeological sites in Greece.

The way Elly has organized and arranged her purses reminded me of my own experiences at archaeological sites, where I could view different historical periods simultaneously. Being led through Elly's rooms was like taking a tour through the decades of the last century's accessories. As I walked, I visualized the women and their times. I traveled back to the 30s while I gazed at an alligator clutch with a metal alligator clasp. It was similar to a bag owned by my mother and only taken out for an occasional viewing. Elly said it was a popular style and showed me ten more, all containing some piece of the animal as part of the design, even alligator claws. Another shelf held corde bags from the 1940s, black architectural designs from an embroidered cord. Images from an era when women wore gloves, carried purses, and smoked cigarettes sprang to mind. As I looked at the beaded and meshed bags of the 20s, I couldn't help think of The Great Gatsby. Many of the purses from the 20s, 30s and 40s also seemed influenced by Manhattan's architecture, especially the art deco designs of familiar buildings. One black leather purse created the illusion of the Chrysler building in its style and structure.

Representing the 50s and 60s was an entire shelf of large woven bags encrusted with shells and embroidered flowers.These purses recalled images of my mother and her friends carrying such bags as they departed for cruises to the Carribean.

But I was mostly attracted to the Lucite bags, Elly's "favorites." She keeps three arranged by her bedside, her jewels. Elly said that she has slowed collecting but she has not stopped learning. She continues to research how the bags were made and the various trends, designers, and the women who carried the purses. She told me she hates those big black postman pouches we now carry. As she spoke, I surreptitiously kicked my enormous black bag under the table.

Elly has no plans for an exhibit in the Hudson Valley, but if you spy an elegantly dressed woman carrying a Lucite purse in Rhinebeck, you have just spotted the Bag Lady. An image from the era when women chose their purse depending on what they wore.