On a recent trip to Austin, I brought along a pair of Moscot glasses that were sure to get a fair amount of use. Among the disorderly nature of packing and departing, those have been left behind. And I think I’m better for it.
The brand in particular, which has a storefront on South Congress, has been made famous by A-listers and those of the artistic set. From Warhol to McCartney, Moscot frames have been adorned in the best way—to make a statement.
For some, glasses are merely an object of everyday utility. They help to correct vision, but there’s always been more to it than that. I’d argue that everyone looks better in glasses, real or otherwise. Sunglasses, of course, add another dimension to it all. That’s why we probably own too many pairs, and maybe why we’re always looking for the next best frame or lens.
As I sit in Eastern Europe writing this, it’s notable that Hyman Moscot (né Moschot), the namesake of the brand, was once an immigrant from a country not too far away from me. And while there are many success stories of businesses just beyond the Ellis Island exchange, what stands out is that Moscot stays true to its heritage— it remains family-owned. In today’s economy and output-driven society, it’s difficult to find brands dedicated to that sort of thing.
Beyond that, though, there is a feeling of nostalgia to every Moscot frame. In hand, the acetate is denser and there is a definite sense of craftsmanship at work. I’m not sure if any other pair feels quite exactly like it.
But remember, as great as these frames are, I left mine behind! I could probably go on about what a catastrophe it was, but I don’t find the need to. Sunglasses are ultimately superfluous; we don’t really need them. That’s why I welcome the opportunity to try something new.
I always look forward to the next pair. Maybe the quality isn’t the greatest, and perhaps they might even drift away. What counts is the way that they add to who you are.
Some say that Fitzgerald lent a hand from the Moscot storefront when describing the eyes of a certain Dr. TJ Eckleburg in Gatsby. Whether we ever know this to be a fact is beside the point. For one of our nation’s great writers, what mattered was what glasses had the power to evoke.
So for the likes of Cary Grant in North by Northwest, whose photo headlines above, the brand doesn’t mean that much. Few of us will ever be able to replica the cool that Grant wielded, and that’s okay. That’s why a frame left behind is a frame gained—regardless of the brand, there’s a feeling that entices our desire for something different.