The first time I walked through the revolving doors of Marshall Fields at 111 N. State Street as a kid, it felt less like entering a department store and more like stepping onto a grand stage where fashion, fantasy, and Chicago history all met under one roof. Even now, decades later, those memories linger like scenes from an old film, and this entry from The Chronicles is my love letter to that unforgettable shopping adventure in 1993.
Shopping at Marshall Field’s in 1993 felt like walking into a long-awaited dream. I remember tilting my head back on the sidewalk, staring up at the iconic clock on the side of the building, its face framed by the bustle of downtown Chicago. It was the holiday season, and everything felt charged—the city lights, the crisp air, and the promise of something wonderful just inside those doors.
Before I even stepped in, the display windows stopped me in my tracks. I was instantly mesmerized by the mannequins behind the glass, dressed in structured headpieces, luxurious faux fur trim, and cozy knitwear. Each mannequin looked like a character in a story I wanted to join. Marshall Field’s holiday windows didn’t just show clothes; they offered entire worlds, and I studied every detail, filing away ideas for how I could style my own outfits to feel just as grand.
Once inside, I drifted from department to department as if I had all the time in the world. I loved everything—the makeup counters glowing with rows of lipsticks, the neatly arranged clothing and outerwear, the shoes calling my name from a distance. The best days to shop at Marshall Fields were the sale days, when the real treasures emerged. There was a special section where clothing items were marked down, a secret haven for style hunters. On those racks, I found the latest baggy style denim that draped over your shoes just right, oversized flannel shirts that felt borrowed from some cool older friend, and grunge slip dresses that blended softness and edge in a way that defined the early ’90s.
Everywhere I turned, there were racks of clothing like an endless wardrobe waiting to be explored. Some of my favorite fashion pieces back then were Levi 501s—a straight fit with a slightly higher rise that gave them just the right shape—along with Levi 550s and Levi 901s. Finding them half off felt like winning the style lottery. I paired them in my mind with cropped tops and slouchy sweaters, imagining the silhouettes I could create. I could spend hours browsing, running my fingers along the denim and knits, determined to find the perfect combination that felt uniquely mine.
Eventually, my path led me to the outerwear department, where the mood shifted from casual cool to quietly luxurious. There, I found tailored cashmere coats—true Chicago staples, built to stand up to the city’s harsh winters while still looking effortlessly elegant. I admired how they hung just so, their clean lines and soft texture promising both warmth and sophistication. Nearby, the leather jackets caught my eye, especially a buttery soft chocolate brown blazer that felt like the kind of piece you’d never want to take off once you slipped it on. And then there was Marshall Field’s fur collection, where I wandered through rows of full ranch-style mink coats and plush lamb jackets, each one suggesting another era, another version of myself I could try on for a moment.
I always ended my visits in the shoe department, saving dessert for last. Marshall Field’s shoe floor felt like a gallery of possibilities, lined with high-quality black leather block-heeled boots ready for city streets and long winter days. Then there were the Christian Dior mules—elegant, refined, and slightly out of reach, yet close enough that I could picture the sound of their heels clicking confidently across those polished marble floors. Leaving the store, bags in hand and head full of outfits I had worn only in my imagination, I felt a mix of satisfaction and longing. Shopping at Marshall Field’s in 1993 wasn’t just about buying clothes; it was about stepping into who I wanted to become, if only for a little while on State Street, surrounded by denim, cashmere, fur, leather, and those unforgettable windows.
If you enjoyed reading Inside Marshall Field’s: A Chicago Fashion Chronicle, click here to read Shopping at Marshall Field’s in 1994-Chronicle 2.
