Summer at Tiffany is a wistful story of Marjorie Hart's reminiscences of the summer of 1945, when she and her best friend and fellow Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority sister from the University of Iowa (Martha "Marty" Garrett) traveled to New York City in search of summer jobs and ended up working at Tiffany's and sharing an apartment in the heart of Manhattan.
The war in Europe had ended the previous May. But the Pacific War had yet to be won. As someone whose late parents are of the same generation as the author, this book I savored reading for its nostalgic value. I enjoyed learning of her and Marty's experiences in Tiffany's (where the reader becomes acquainted with some of the colorful employees with whom both women worked, such as Mr. T.C., a suave, urbane man with a deep, resonant bass voice who served as the supervisor on the 3rd floor, where "glistening crystal stemware, English flowered tea sets, gold-rimmed china, and gigantic ornate vases" were for sale; Marjorie is given the opportunity to work for Mr. T.C., who gives her a lesson in brandy sniffing on an especially rainy day when business was sparse, affording them this rare moment of leisure) and the famous and popular landmarks, bars, clubs, and restaurants they frequented that summer. (There is also summer romance.)
Marjorie's description of the sheer joy and happiness that overtook New York City on VJ-Day (Victory over Japan Day = August 14, 1945) is especially evocative and moving ---
"Caught in a chaotic stream of people, Marty, Carolyn [Marjorie and Marty's roommate] and I were driven up one block and down another. Where were we? We didn't know, we didn't care. Flowerpots were smashing. Firecrackers were tossed from fire escapes. Feathers from pillowcases floated through the air. Sidewalks were buried in confetti, shredded telephone books, and ticker tape. People were dancing on top of cars and every bar and nightclub overflowed in the streets, with celebrants shouting, kissing, and singing. Filled with that wild sense of exhilaration, we could have walked forever. Later, the three of us never recalled what streets we'd taken until we found our way home. When we finally reached our apartment at 3 o'clock in the morning, not even the desk clerk was surprised. The papers later reported that two million celebrants were in Times Square that night!"
This is a story that recaptures the flavor and spirit of youth during the best summer of one's life. Indeed, Summer at Tiffany has as its heart the question: Do you remember the best summer of your life? My answer is the summer of 1986, when I visited Los Angeles for the first time as a 21-year old recent college graduate from the Midwest. I spent eight of the happiest, most carefree weeks of my life (with a generous stipend to live on at UCLA) while involved in a pre-graduate program in Public Policy Studies at the RAND Corporation in Santa Monica, CA - just minutes away from the beaches, the Pacific Ocean, and Santa Monica Mountains.
Simply put, Summer at Tiffany is a keeper. I savored this book.