A Princess Coat for the Mayor of Brooklyn

I was dazzled by Jenny the moment we met. She was impossibly friendly, accomplished, stylish and magnetic, capital G Glamorous. But she was also our new upstairs neighbor. For the same reason one avoids hooking up with a roommate or close colleague, I’d found it wise to keep neighbors at a distance.

Except our daughters, a year apart, had none of my stiff-upper-lipped conditioning. They hit it off right away, instantly adding one another to the BFF rotation.

One evening soon after the girls’ introduction, we discovered C missing from our apartment. At the crest of panic, a text arrived from Jenny: “She’s up here. Want us to feed her?” Horrified at the kiddo’s presumption I raced upstairs to apologize to Jenny for the inconvenience of an unsolicited playdate slash dinner guest.

Two hours later, C and I returned home well-fed, tipsy (just me), and steeped in great conversation.

In the four years since, Halloween pre-game parties and doggy birthdays (complete with 3-tier dog treat cakes), impromptu Friday night pot-lucks, kiddo sleepovers, and aimless daytime rambles in Prospect Park, have proven over and over the error of playing it cool.

Thanks to Jenny, my new approach in friendship (and life) is: Go! For! It!

Jenny is one of those people who manufactures infectious, outrageous excellence in every aspect of her life, from service on the coop board to dinner party cheese boards. Radiantly warm and friendly, she seems to love and be loved by all: her ravenous social appetite has earned her the nickname “The Mayor of Brooklyn.”

Professionally, Jenny helps big fashion and retail brands improve their sustainability practices by sourcing verified regenerative materials, adapting manufacturing operations, and prioritizing partnerships with female creators and business owners, all while increasing their bottom line. She teaches MBAs at NYU how to incorporate social consciousness and sustainability in meaningful, actionable ways. She may or may not have invented Giving Tuesday.

In other words, she is literally saving the world.

Jenny was one of the first people to notice my earliest creations. She has excellent taste so her compliments were especially meaningful. On a whim, I offered to make her something. “Wow!” She responded. “That’s so generous!”

Then…nothing.

In her lack of follow-up, I kinda spiralled. Were the compliments fake? Did she really like me or was she just being nice because our daughters were friends? Was I interesting enough to be friends with someone like Jenny? At a certain point, I asked myself “What would Jenny do?”, and resolved to take her words at face value, assume the best, and not overthink it.

Asking myself “What Would Jenny Do?” has become an extremely beneficial habit.

Over time, my clothes got better. She continued to compliment them, and one day before I could stop myself, I blurted a repeat offer. Later that night came the texts: “Are you sure it’s not too much to ask?! I can’t stop thinking about BROCADE!”

We were off!

Jenny is the opposite of me physically—petite with a dramatic hourglass shape that’s perfect for 1950s lines. A maximalist who rocks statement jewelry to the gym, Jenny lives in glowy festival colors that set off her porcelain skin and black curls.

Because Jenny works in operations and sourcing, she’s super savvy about fabric and its environmental impact. Because she’s in fashion/retail, she has strong opinions about shape, style, and line—and they’re always spot on. Knowing how much she’d contribute to the process, I was especially excited to work together.

Jenny wanted a coat. Specifically, a Princess Coat.

Yes, that’s an industry term.

Imagine a 1950s screen siren disembarking a private plane, waving to the paparazzi in her hat, pearls, gloves, stilettos. You get the idea.

The pattern we landed on was Gertie’s Charm Pattern’s Princess Coat.

Tailored garments work best with fabrics that have some structure, but I didn’t have to weigh in as Jenny had her heart set on brocade. The samples came, and this was the winning combo.

Next, I took Jenny’s measurements, applied them to the pattern sizing, and what do you know?

Jenny and I are the same size.

I’m 5’9”, she’s 5’1”. She’s curvy, I’m a broad-shouldered Duracell bunny, but we are the same damn size.

To me, this IS the argument for tailoring. Ready-to-wear garments are constructed from a body profile made from median measurements of a 5’6 woman, without taking into account the precise measurements (nape-to-waist, overbust/underbust, waist-to-hip, armscye, crotch depth) that give an accurate picture. As a result, most ready-to-wear clothes fit most people badly.

But enough of soapboxing. Onto the alterations.

Gertie’s patterns are very well-drafted, and include lots of lines and notations for making adjustments.

In the original toile (above), the fabric triangled out above her chest—the discrepancy between the pattern’s bust apex and hers. There was a lot of fabric horizontally bunched at her back, and the waist landed at the top of her hips. Also, she changed her mind about the bell sleeves, favoring a sleeker look.

I added a tiny swayback adjustment to fix the ripple of horizontal fabric on the back

The slim sleeves were an improvement, but Jenny wanted to flash a wink of lining. Would it be possible to create a slight trumpet at the hem?

Certainly, but this involved drafting and math: Shapes that are simple to imagine are not always straightforward adjustments across multiple pattern pieces cut for 3-dimensional fit.

For example, sleeve pieces are symmetrically opposite, NOT interchangeable.

Having built the toiles, I knew where the sleeve hems were landing. I added a little more length to the side that was the under side of the arm (see above). It flares more dramatically in the pattern piece than the final garment because the ⅝” seam allowance sucks up a good amount of flare.

Then it was time to cut.

And cut. And cut. And cut. There are ~35 pieces in this pattern.

In the end, Jenny’s coat wasn’t just about fabric, fit, or flared sleeves—it was about connection, courage, and the quiet magic of saying yes to new possibilities.

Whether it’s a handmade garment or a new friendship, the best things in life often begin with a simple offer, a leap of faith, and a willingness to embrace the unexpected.