My sophomore year at Syracuse University I discovered a magical sanctuary on campus: E.S. Bird Library. Many peruse the primary resources, but few realize the depth of bookish secrets that reside there. One snowy night last February, I uncovered one of these long lost cryptograms, a book entitled Erté.
As a fashion design major, I prefer drawing and sewing to the humanities. An alcove on Bird's fourth floor, known as the Limited Access section, offered an escape to enhance my studying habit. Row upon row of art and design texts, the special editions collection provided me inspiration.
Wedged among vintage Vogues and ancient furniture catalogues, the silk bound cover of Erté captured my attention. I had studied Erté, a Russian born fashion illustrator made famous by his designs for the stage and Conde Nast. I flipped through page after page of stylized fashion figures. Women attenuated into letters. The silhouettes created an alphabet. A mix of high-quality plates with a semiotic study by Roland Barthes and memoires by Erté himself, the book begged `take me home.' I needed it.
On odds with the book's two-hour constraint, I checked it out time and time again. After the sixth occasion, I decided to purchase my own copy of the 1972 Italian publication. New obstacle. A discloser on the last page proved the implausibility of my quest: only 2,000 copies existed. I searched from New York City to California and with the help of the internet, I located my target. A donation of $163 from my aunt secured the book as mine. Front and center on my book shelf, Erté remains the place where I look to for inspiration.
