Charles was a visiting professor at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond in the mid-70s. I was one of his students in the tailoring and draping classes in the Department of Fashion Design. We got along because we were both quirky. Other students adddressed him reverently as Mr. Kleibacher. I called him "Chuck," and teased him for wearing a monkey fur coat - a hairy, long, black glossy thing of wonder. He'd fly back to New York on the weekends and I'd sometimes drive him to the Richmond airport in my Mustang convertible. So unchic! I'd have the top down and drive like a maniac. Chuck loved it.

There was one fitting session where we argued whether I had put my design on backwards or not. I have a small bust. The debate went on for a few minutes until I proved my shoulder blades protruded slightly more than my breasts. He was mortified, but we laughed about it for years after.

A few days later, my younger sister was standing in front of him for a fit review - we had very similar bodies. While other students presented him with staid, safe designs, I had gone overboard with my senior project. The "rules" said the project garment had to be designed for "someone" other than the designer. Chuck and I cooked up a way to "bend" those rules. That's why my sister was the official fit model. Not content with one draped dress and one coat, I had to have two 2-piece dresses with interchangeable parts, and a cape with a capelet that removed and could be tossed over a coat. The big cape, of course, was reversible. He spent hours with me, perfecting the design and inspecting my handiwork. Then my sister and I modeled the results in the department's big fashion show.

In the middle of the fitting, Chuck accidentally stuck a pin deep into my sister's armpit. He looked up at her, held his breath and s-l-o-w-l-y pulled it out. "Owwwwwwww," she said loudly, glaring at him. Like a good fit model, she had not moved. Chuck and I fell on the floor laughing. "I thought I killed her," he said.

After graduation, I went to a school in NYC on a Fellowship and he was thrilled. I visited his salon at the Hotel on Central Park West and met his assistant, who doubled as his fit model.

Though he moved permanently to Ohio ages ago, we exchanged Christmas cards every year. My holiday newsletters was always lengthy - and his summation in his cheery reply was succinct, less than 50 words.

This year, I did not get a response from Chuck. Now I know why. He will be missed, but the memories of our fun times remain.

Charles was a visiting professor at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond in the mid-70s. I was one of his students in the tailoring and draping classes in the Department of Fashion Design. We got along because we were both quirky. Other students adddressed him reverently as Mr. Kleibacher. I called him "Chuck," and teased him for wearing a monkey fur coat - a hairy, long, black glossy thing of wonder. He'd fly back to New York on the weekends and I'd sometimes drive him to the Richmond airport in my Mustang convertible. So unchic! I'd have the top down and drive like a maniac. Chuck loved it.

There was one fitting session where we argued whether I had put my design on backwards or not. I have a small bust. The debate went on for a few minutes until I proved my shoulder blades protruded slightly more than my breasts. He was mortified, but we laughed about it for years after.

A few days later, my younger sister was standing in front of him for a fit review - we had very similar bodies. While other students presented him with staid, safe designs, I had gone overboard with my senior project. The "rules" said the project garment had to be designed for "someone" other than the designer. Chuck and I cooked up a way to "bend" those rules. That's why my sister was the official fit model. Not content with one draped dress and one coat, I had to have two 2-piece dresses with interchangeable parts, and a cape with a capelet that removed and could be tossed over a coat. The big cape, of course, was reversible. He spent hours with me, perfecting the design and inspecting my handiwork. Then my sister and I modeled the results in the department's big fashion show.

In the middle of the fitting, Chuck accidentally stuck a pin deep into my sister's armpit. He looked up at her, held his breath and s-l-o-w-l-y pulled it out. "Owwwwwwww," she said loudly, glaring at him. Like a good fit model, she had not moved. Chuck and I fell on the floor laughing. "I thought I killed her," he said.

After graduation, I went to a school in NYC on a Fellowship and he was thrilled. I visited his salon at the Hotel on Central Park West and met his assistant, who doubled as his fit model.

Though he moved permanently to Ohio ages ago, we exchanged Christmas cards every year. My holiday newsletters was always lengthy - and his summation in his cheery reply was succinct, less than 50 words.

This year, I did not get a response from Chuck. Now I know why. He will be missed, but the memories of our fun times remain.