A Taste of Magic for the Littlest Ladies Who Lunch

While the school and the store share the same neighborhood, the distance between them might better be measured in worlds than in blocks.

For a few magic hours last Friday, however, the store and seven energetic fifth-graders came together.

None of the seven--all 10-year-old girls from Rosemont Avenue School--had been to the landmark I. Magnin-Bullocks Wilshire. Or any place like it. They all are first-generation Californians whose parents came from El Salvador, Guatemala, Japan and Puerto Rico.

As guests of the store for a tour and luncheon, this “ladies who lunch” bunch bore no resemblance to their more senior counterparts who are often dismissed as banal creatures suffering terminal ennui .

Even though the expedition was to uncharted, and possibly intimidating, territory, the Rosemont girls were ready. They had prepped and primped, and took on the store with poise and sophistication well beyond their years.

If these girls are not used to fancy stores from another era, they are used to new experiences--plenty of them. Monet Brock has been their teacher for three years, and, in an era of dwindling or no funds, is constantly looking to the community to come through for the children--in the classroom or on field trips.

Brock said she tries to divide field trips evenly among small groups--this one was for the girls; the 24 boys were playing baseball.

“It’s such a thrill for me as a teacher that they feel self-confident enough to ask questions,” Brock said. “We’ve been practicing introductions, ordering from menus, thinking up questions.”

They get A’s in introductions.

Accompanied by Brock and principal Wayne Langham, the girls did not wait to be prodded into introductions when they arrived. One approached public relations director Shirley Wilson and quietly extended her hand, saying softly, “Hello, I’m Martha Menjivar. I’m happy to meet you.” Tour guide and L.A. Conservancy docent Carolyn Mannon Haber received a similar greeting: “I’m Debbie Ruiz.”

Nor did the worlds of high finance and vintage architecture daunt them.

Haber included the store’s financial tangles in her historical narrative. When she reached the sale of the store to Federated Department Stores, Brock stepped in, telling the students: “It’s a holding company.” The girls knew all about holding companies. Representatives of one had talked to their class.

The students also speculated that the recession was responsible for the small number of customers in the store.

And, they correctly identified the guy in a ceiling mural with wings on his feet as a Greek god (it’s Mercury) and stumped Haber with several questions about the building’s construction.

These are not privileged kids used to sky’s-the-limit shopping sprees and charge cards. The expedition could have been a nose-pressed-to-the-glass disaster. Instead, it was exuberant. They got a kick out of “just looking” at all the fine things.

Just looking:

* Leaving the guided tour for a moment, Kere Morita grabbed Marisol Ibarra by the arm and pulled her to her discovery--a crystal bud vase etched with the opening words of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet: “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. . . .”

It was familiar to them, and Kere commented, “Some famous poem writer wrote that.”

* One girl, walking by a splendid four-poster canopied bed awash with eyelet embroidered pillows, spreads and ruffles, sought to confirm what her unbelieving eyes were telling her. Pointing back at it, she asked: “These are beds? “

* Happy Brooks stopped at a collection of miniature furniture on a table in the gift shop, fingered one weird little 10-inch highchair with a $55 tag on it and drolly announced: “I want to send my mama down to buy this for the Barbie doll.”

Perhaps one reason for their equanimity amid the dazzling array is that these are young people with plenty of ambitions for themselves and the self-confidence not to question that they will make it all come true.

Doctor, nurse, actress, teacher, architect--they described their future plans during lunch, punctuating them with “maybes” that indicated more youthful indecisiveness than self doubt.

The trip to the perfumery turned into a spray fest, gamely supervised by saleswoman Stephanie Harvel. No one turned it into a squirt-gun fight; rather, each girl carefully selected a fragrance and applied it liberally. They spent the next few minutes sniffing each other’s wrists.

But the biggest hit of all was the fifth-floor ladies’ lounge. Forget poise. This was beyond perfection. Perched on a rose upholstered bench, Lorena Flores looked around and sighed with satisfaction: “Everything is so colorful here--even the bathroom.”

Several others stepped into a mirrored alcove and lost their cool; Lucia Highley called, “Ms. Brock! Ms. Brock, come here! There’s a million of us here.”

The mirrors were positioned to reflect infinity.

The grand finale was an elegant lunch in a private, oak-paneled dining room off the tearoom, complete with white damask tablecloths, Wedgewood china, fancy chicken salad, dainty rolls and little dishes of after-dinner mints--plus little purple bags at each place containing Guerlin fragrance samples. Public relations director Wilson told them they were welcome to send their salads back and order something else.

The guests said the chicken salads would be just fine.

Assistant manager Ron King stopped by to welcome them and answer questions.

With a warm smile, Kere Morita broke the ice: “Have you had any insect problems lately?”

Momentarily stunned, King rallied with assurances about the competent pest-control company that comes in on a regular basis. He said the real problem was the pigeons that live in the tower. Sometimes one will come into the store and fly around.

Student Marisol Ibarra changed subjects: “Do buyers get to travel a lot?”

All the time, the girls are told: They’re in the Orient now, shopping for Christmas.

Finally, finally , after all those sophisticated questions and impeccable manners, the girls gave in to their 10-year-old sensibilities and succumbed to the giggles.

There was no obvious explanation for what had set them off, but it seemed to have something to do with figuring out how to get away from the table and back to the women’s lounge.

Three girls made a break for it, one managing to politely place her hand on Wilson’s shoulder and say “excuse me” on the way out before losing her composure.

Their mirth subsiding, they returned to order dessert from the menu, somberly studying the glossy white folders and ordering five hot fudge sundaes and one rainbow sherbet. Lucia Highley said she had tasted cheesecake at a wedding and decided to try it again.

But no sooner had the dessert tray arrived than the giggling resurfaced, this time at the sight of the sundaes.

As the girls were leaving, a charmed Wilson urged the girls to visit the store again and to consider a career in retail.

“I have the feeling,” she said, “these girls are going to speak up in life.”