I Love Saks.(Saks Fifth Avenue)

Byline: Amy Ephron

Amy Ephron describes a life spent seeking sparks and solace at the fabled counters of a New York department store.

The smell of fresh pressed powder (or the memory of the smell of fresh pressed powder), French hand-milled soap, eau de cologne mixed with the scent of the softest leather from gloves that have never before been worn. Deco glass display cases filled with makeup (Chanel, La Prairie, and hipper brands like M.A.C. and something Japanese I've never heard of called Kanebo); sunglasses by the yard; a hat department with wool caps and posher ones with lace and feathers; an old-fashioned glove bar, all lengths and sizes; scarves, silk ones from Hermes and Armani, cashmere ones and wool; purses; belts; and that's only the first floor.

Saks Fifth Avenue. The flagship store on Fifth Avenue between Forty-ninth and Fiftieth streets.

In a way, I think, I can tell my life by Saks, in the way that I could tell my life by tuna-fish sandwiches or the occasions on which I've run into Shelley Steinberg (my best friend from eighth grade), who later became Shelley Kirkwood and then became Shelley Cooper, if you know what I mean--that Saks for me is a funny bookend, like an old friend that's always been there, sometimes worn at the edges, a little fractious, but just by its very existence a haven nonetheless.

The first time I went to New York, I was eight and my mother took me to Saks to buy a hat so that we could march in the Easter Parade. And it snowed. And it was the first time I'd seen snow fall (I'd seen it on the ground before somewhere silly like Mount Baldy, but I'd never actually seen it snow until that day). Six years later, when she took me to Saks and bought me a truly extraordinary Doctor Zhivago shearling coat, the color of calfskin, long to mid-calf (to ease the sting of the fact that my parents were so dysfunctional, my only permanent address was going to be a boarding school in Woodstock, Vermont, where the temperature was regularly 30 below in winter). I think it was the coat that got me suspended and Phil expelled; if I hadn't had the coat, we wouldn't have been able to spend the night in the library (as they turned the heat off in the library at night), and they wouldn't have found me and Phil Jones wrapped in each other's arms underneath the coat, asleep on the library sofa at 3:00 A.M. (We were wearing our clothes, by the way, but the headmaster was unforgiving.)

Saks is a sturdy companion in a world that's sometimes sad or upside down, and for me it's a touchstone