Downtown Store’s Fate Prompts Neiman Marcus Reminiscing
Recent area hubbub and lamenting over the passing of the venerable downtown Neiman Marcus flagship store and its chic, sleek Zodiac Room restaurant has prompted me to reflect upon the local icon and my personal connection to it.
At various times since the 1990s, both my parents and I lived a scant two blocks away.
From 2003-2005, I worked as a freelancer in the art department there — one of the few “regular” jobs I ever had that I actually liked. But, of course, the fond memories go much further back.
The location at Main and Ervay streets opened in September of 1914, though Neiman’s had been downtown since 1907.
My memories of visiting the store stretch back into the early 1980s, when the city was experiencing a bit of a renaissance with the international popularity of the TV show Dallas.
I recall Fortnights with exotic décor and Shar Pei puppies, glamorous trunk shows, and In Circle parties during which my parents would consume all the free hors d’oeuvres and wine politely possible.
The Epicure Shop offered, among many other delicacies, tastes of Texas to the world via the Red River brand of salsas, tortilla chips, et al. There were fashion shows, in-store art exhibits, and the Christmas catalog, which my mother always pored over with a chuckle, eyeing its outlandish His-and-Hers gifts, including pairs of airplanes and live tigers.
In my later days working in the art department, I perilously hung Christmas garlands on the roof, spent sweltering summer days digging through rugs in the storage room down the street, hot-glued feather butterflies around $30,000 dresses in holiday window displays, and laughed with a team of people who would become lifelong friends. I even met the woman who would become my 13-year girlfriend there. I was there for the May 2005 Neiman Marcus Group leveraged buyout, when question marks hung over so many heads.
The Zodiac Room restaurant opened in 1953, giving shoppers a place to cool their heels and grab a bite without having to leave the store. It quickly became a place to see and be seen, a watering hole for elite shoppers and socialites. I wonder if it wasn’t the inspiration for the bohemian club of the same name in the film Bell, Book and Candle (1957). Though its mid-century astrological décor had been wiped away years ago, The Zodiac’s popovers with strawberry butter/demitasse of chicken broth combo and NM chicken salad were always classy and comforting mainstays.
Even in her final years, my mother was a regular — sometimes daily — visitor to the store. For her it was a ritual, a whiff of the luxury she so longed for. Though more of a window-shopper then, she was known to many employees, dragging her chihuahua in tow, still using her little, cream-colored 1970s-era Neiman’s credit card.
Sadly, we aren’t likely to see a department store the likes of Neiman Marcus again. All of those days browsing, dreaming, eating, and shopping — both window and otherwise — are lost to ethers of luminous memory – a vision for many of the perfect store.
Josh Hickman, a Park Cities artist and author of such humorous novels as “I Am Luney: The Untold Story of The World’s Naughtiest Man,” is a frequent contributor to People Newspapers. Visit joshhickmanbooks.com.
