Good Night,
Sweet Prince: Exclusive Bruce Boyer Tribute To Charlie Davidson
DECEMBER 4,
2019
There are
men all over the place reminiscing and telling stories about Charlie Davidson.
Everyone either knew him or knew of him. Charlie ran The Andover Shop in
Cambridge for more than a half century, and saw to the sartorial needs of
professors and politicians, students, jazz musicians, and mere male mortals who
wanted to look decently attired. He helped them all and made them better for
it.
He was
undoubtedly a good businessman and salesman, a tastemaker with the eye of a
cosmetic surgeon and the insight of a psychiatrist combined. Hundreds of
well-dressed men depended on Charlie for advice on their wardrobes. But above
it all, as one Ivy Style reader said, he had a talent for friendship. His
interests were wide, his knowledge deep, and his mind’s eye a sparkle. His wit
quick and memorable, Charlie was a raconteur supreme, an urbane gentleman who
could make you smile just to be in his company. Wonderful people have a way of
making us feel wonderful.
Of the
times I’ve spent with Charlie, I remember a particular evening that sums up for
me what Charlie was. It was the opening night of Bobby Short’s last engagement
at The Carlyle. Charlie invited my wife and me, Charlie Bourgeois, and
Catherine Uy to the event. Of course Short knew Charlie well, as did all the
other musicians in the group. Almost every jazz musician who played The Newport
Jazz Festival over the years stopped at The Andover Shop to see him. When
Charlie led us into the room, the band stood up in recognition. It was the
beginning of a glittering evening full of wonderful music and champagne. After
the music ended and the band left after midnight, Bobby Short came to our table
and we sat and talked for another hour or so. Charlie was in his element, the
rest of us were in Heaven.
After that
I talked with Charlie over the phone, but didn’t see him until several years
later when Patricia Mears, Deputy Director of The Museum at FIT, and I went to
Cambridge to try and lure Charlie to our exhibition of Ivy styled clothing. “I
can’t come to Manhattan any more,” he said, “all my New York friends are gone
and it’s too painful.” And now Charlie’s gone, too.
It really
does seem like the end of an era, a time when jazz musicians were heroes, and
men dressed with an easy elegance. A time when substance had style. — G.
BRUCE BOYER
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