Club Foyer>Rainwear in the Media >
Nothing was thrown away. Everything was resorted, repacked, relabeled, to be gone through again the next time I appeared. A Balenciaga raincoat from the fifties was unearthed, originally of heavy rubberized material that, after thirty years, was stiff as a board, when bent snapped like peanut brittle. She examined it very carefully:
"This would be good . . . the worms could never get through this!" She was absolutely serious, refused to allow me to throw it out. "No, wrap it, then put it where you will know where to find it - to bury me in."