Purse Pursuit: Designer Embarks on a Shopping Spree to Bag Her Own Bags
Fans of Judith Leiber Handbags Face Competition From Mrs. Leiber Herself; the $3,500 Tiger
THE SPRINGS, N.Y.—Judith Leiber handbags have been iconic accessories for generations of famous women, from Nancy Reagan and Barbara Bush to Jennifer Lopez and Sex and the City's Carrie Bradshaw. Leiber fans scour vintage boutiques, auctions and websites for one of her distinctive, bejeweled clutches. These days, Judith Leiber bag groupies are encountering a determined rival when bidding for her classic bags: A certain Judith Leiber of Park Avenue. Yes, that Judith Leiber. (More after the break)
The 89-year-old designer, with support from her 88-year-old husband, Gerson, is trying to buy back as many examples of her own handiwork as she can to stock a multimillion-dollar museum they have built in the Hamptons. The Leiber Museum, on Long Island, New York, is housed in an Italian Renaissance-style villa at the end of a long driveway. At 1 p.m. on seasonal weekends, an employee goes to a shed, pulls out a small sign that says "Leiber Museum," and places it at the roadside. The sign goes back in storage at 4 p.m. On a good summer weekend, the building gets 20 or 25 visitors daily. Admission is free. Among other exhibits, the museum has about 200 Leiber handbags on display in glass cases. The Leibers own about 900 bags in total. Mrs. Leiber says that's not enough. Judith Leiber created some 3,500 handbags throughout her career. Now the legendary designer is hunting for her vintage pieces to fill her East Hampton museum. "We would love to have them all," she says. Mrs. Leiber says she created some 3,500 styles, and would like one of each. There are Leiber bags shaped like birds, cats, frogs, tigers, peacocks, tomatoes or Faberge eggs. One evoked a Mondrian painting. She made pocketbooks from exotic skins such as lizard, alligator and even boa constrictor. The beaded bags used Swarovski crystals inserted one by one by hand. The Leibers spend weekends combing through eBay for the latest offerings. They attend auctions. They commissioned a book—"No Mere Bagatelles" by Jeffrey Sussman—about Mrs. Leiber's bags. A native of Budapest, Mrs. Leiber learned to make bags in the ateliers of Hungary during World War II. After moving to America, she rapidly made her mark: In 1953, she designed a glittering pink purse for First Lady Mamie Eisenhower to wear at Dwight Eisenhower's inaugural ball. Ten years later, she founded her own company then marketed it aggressively—sending a Leiber bag as a gift to every First Lady. Nancy Reagan was a fan, as was Barbara Bush, who came to her showroom. For Hillary Clinton, Mrs. Leiber made a bag in the shape of Socks, the White House cat. In 1993, Mrs. Leiber sold her company, which had grown into a $24 million business, and her brand name. New Judith Leiber bags continued to be sold, but were no longer her personal designs. The Leiber bag obsession is a mystery to some. "I can't fathom the average young woman working a crystal asparagus purse into her outfit—and I know I wouldn't spend two months salary for a purse shaped like a Dachshund," says Jessica Misener, 26, editor of Lovelyish, a fashion blog for young women. "They can barely fit an iPhone."
But true Leiber lovers don't think of the bags as merely bags. Lori Shabtai, a New York commercial real estate executive, says she bought her first Leiber as a bride-to-be 29 years ago, and since then, her ritual is purchasing at least one Judith Leiber a year. She associates each with a special occasion: her daughter's Bat Mitzvah, where she carried a beige snakeskin; a black clutch with large crystals was for a big date. "Judith Leiber has been through all of that with us," says Ms. Shabtai. She no longer has the wedding bag, "and I don't even have that husband." Ms. Shabtai doesn't discriminate between bags made before or after Mrs. Leiber sold her company. "I own between 30 and 40 gorgeous ones, and I love them both," she says. Mrs. Leiber does see the difference. She and her husband shell out several hundred dollars a week purchasing only "the original bags, the ones that I designed," she says. One bejeweled bag in the shape of a tiger set her back $3,500. "I am worse than she is, I will say, 'we must have that,"' says Mr. Leiber, an artist. "Those bags should be appreciated, they cried out for a museum." Every weekend, Mrs. Leiber sits down with her assistant, Jess Frost, and they troll the Internet for hours, looking at Leiber bags. Though Mrs. Leiber sits several feet away, "she's got eyes like a hawk," says Ms. Frost. "There is the Pussycat," she cried out on a recent Sunday, as dozens of postage-size images of beaded bags flashed on the screen. The jewel-covered kitty, designed in 1983, was tempting. "How much do they want?" she asks. A daunting $4,299, her assistant replies—more than she is spending these days. But others cost less. Within minutes, Mrs. Leiber spots a white quilted Leiber calfskin purse. When she hears the price—$149—she said gleefully, "Let's get it." Mary Gleason, who heads Judith Leiber LLC, which makes the bags now, understands Mrs. Leiber's desire to want only her own creations. "I totally respect the way she feels," she says. Ms. Gleason, who took over about two years ago, says she is trying to stay true to the brand's "DNA," even as she attempts to modernize—including making larger bags that can fit a phone. The company's bags sell for $1,500 to $5,000 or more. It recently introduced ones for $925. "It has been decades since we have had a bag for $925," says Ms. Gleason. Recently, Mrs. Leiber made an unusual mistake: She bought a bag that wasn't "hers." The embroidered satin clutch was a Judith Leiber, but made after she left the company. She sent it back to the online purveyor, Linda's Stuff, which sells old and new Judith Leiber bags. Owner Linda Lightman didn't mind: Mrs. Leiber is a steady customer. "I didn't want to disrespect her by asking, 'Why are you buying back your own pieces?"' she says. The Leibers, married 64 years, don't have children. "They are my children," Mrs. Leiber says of her bags, "and there is no college tuition and nobody talks back."
But true Leiber lovers don't think of the bags as merely bags. Lori Shabtai, a New York commercial real estate executive, says she bought her first Leiber as a bride-to-be 29 years ago, and since then, her ritual is purchasing at least one Judith Leiber a year. She associates each with a special occasion: her daughter's Bat Mitzvah, where she carried a beige snakeskin; a black clutch with large crystals was for a big date. "Judith Leiber has been through all of that with us," says Ms. Shabtai. She no longer has the wedding bag, "and I don't even have that husband." Ms. Shabtai doesn't discriminate between bags made before or after Mrs. Leiber sold her company. "I own between 30 and 40 gorgeous ones, and I love them both," she says. Mrs. Leiber does see the difference. She and her husband shell out several hundred dollars a week purchasing only "the original bags, the ones that I designed," she says. One bejeweled bag in the shape of a tiger set her back $3,500. "I am worse than she is, I will say, 'we must have that,"' says Mr. Leiber, an artist. "Those bags should be appreciated, they cried out for a museum." Every weekend, Mrs. Leiber sits down with her assistant, Jess Frost, and they troll the Internet for hours, looking at Leiber bags. Though Mrs. Leiber sits several feet away, "she's got eyes like a hawk," says Ms. Frost. "There is the Pussycat," she cried out on a recent Sunday, as dozens of postage-size images of beaded bags flashed on the screen. The jewel-covered kitty, designed in 1983, was tempting. "How much do they want?" she asks. A daunting $4,299, her assistant replies—more than she is spending these days. But others cost less. Within minutes, Mrs. Leiber spots a white quilted Leiber calfskin purse. When she hears the price—$149—she said gleefully, "Let's get it." Mary Gleason, who heads Judith Leiber LLC, which makes the bags now, understands Mrs. Leiber's desire to want only her own creations. "I totally respect the way she feels," she says. Ms. Gleason, who took over about two years ago, says she is trying to stay true to the brand's "DNA," even as she attempts to modernize—including making larger bags that can fit a phone. The company's bags sell for $1,500 to $5,000 or more. It recently introduced ones for $925. "It has been decades since we have had a bag for $925," says Ms. Gleason. Recently, Mrs. Leiber made an unusual mistake: She bought a bag that wasn't "hers." The embroidered satin clutch was a Judith Leiber, but made after she left the company. She sent it back to the online purveyor, Linda's Stuff, which sells old and new Judith Leiber bags. Owner Linda Lightman didn't mind: Mrs. Leiber is a steady customer. "I didn't want to disrespect her by asking, 'Why are you buying back your own pieces?"' she says. The Leibers, married 64 years, don't have children. "They are my children," Mrs. Leiber says of her bags, "and there is no college tuition and nobody talks back."
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