Bianca always likes to stop and peer in the window of Russ & Daughters at the salmon slicers. She likes the name Russ & Daughters. In 1935, when Joel Russ made his three daughters full partners in his business and changed its name accordingly, it was pretty radical to name a business for your daughters. But Russ had daughters, not sons, and from the sound of it, they worked their butts off in the store—it shouldn’t be surprising that it’s called Russ & Daughters. What’s more surprising to Bianca: that a business called “& Daughters” is still a rarity, even today.

Bianca heads for the Café a couple of blocks away so she can be seated. Afternoon slopes steeply into evening this time of year, and Bianca often finds herself in need of a nosh right around 4 pm because it’s cold and getting dark and even though it isn’t dinnertime yet it certainly does feel like it ought to be.

Bianca likes the old photos on the Café walls. She feels a certain affinity with the Russ daughters. She, too, is one of three sisters. She, too, is a New Yorker descended from immigrants, with a family history that wends through foreign lands. Like most of us.

Bianca is the second of three stitch faces made from my friend Lauren’s grandfather’s neckties. When Lauren first gave me the ties, she said I could use them however I wanted but could I please use one in particular, a white silk Givenchy. I initially thought it would be easy to make clothing from it, but immediately ran into trouble because every outfit I envisioned seemed too formal, or too bridal, or too late-Elvis. So I decided to use the tie for Bianca herself, and once she was made she turned out not to be any of those things. Once you give something dimension (stuffing) and ears it really does take on a life of its own.

Bianca’s boots are made from a very skinny suede tie. Very lucky for Bianca that this tie was in the trove, because of my rule that everything for these three stitch faces had to be made from one of the ties. Were it not for this tie, she would not exude nearly the same attitude. Bianca’s pants and coat are made from one tie. The bright red silk was the lining.

Sometimes, hidden inside a vivid shell is an even more vivid interior.

I asked Lauren to share a little information about her grandfather for this post. His name was Meyer H. Okun, known to those close to him as Mike, born in 1907 (the same year Joel Russ arrived in NYC from what is now Poland) to Russian immigrant parents in Toronto. When Meyer was 13 his father died, and he helped support the family while his older brothers went to school. An irrepressible personality with business savvy, he eventually did quite well for himself and developed a taste for luxuries such as cars, horses, fine wine, international travel, and, of course, fab neckwear. Lauren remembers him as having a full head of white hair, a moustache, and excellent posture. She also remembers that he loved coming to visit NYC where he attended the opera, ate at the Carnegie Deli, and made friends with everybody he met.

Meyer’s parents did not give him a middle name, but he wanted a middle initial so he just gave himself one. In his honor, from now on please refer to Bianca as Bianca H.

The third sister coming soon.

“Haimish” is a Yiddish word that suggests warmth, comfort, authenticity, conviviality, and a lack of pretense. Haimishness is the essence of the Russ & Daughters experience. . . .The timeless appeal of the Russ & Daughters Cafe makes it a perfect spot any time of day . . . You will be part of the mishpocha (family) — whether you have been a regular in the shop for 70 years or if you are a first time visitor.

—from the Russ & Daughters Café website