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Copyright
1999 Times Mirror Company
Los Angeles Times
View Related Topics
November 22, 1999, Monday, Home Edition
SECTION: Health; Part S; Page 1; View Desk
LENGTH:
1065 words
HEADLINE:
AT WORK; CLOTHES THAT ACCENT STYLE AND RESPECT
BYLINE:
ROSIE MESTEL
BODY:
Once
upon a time, people with developmental disabilities were schooled
and housed away from "normal" folks in institutions up on
hills. Times have changed, and today those large, anonymous buildings
have mostly given way to homey housing in regular family neighborhoods.
This
quest for normalcy and respect reaches all the way down to the clothes
people wear. Clothing that looks odd, ill-fitting or ugly just isn't
acceptable anymore. Businesses have sprung up to offer alternatives
for people whose bodies and capabilities mean that ready mades at
Macy's can't always fit the bill.
Perhaps
people have fingers that fumble over buttons. Or feeding tubes and
urine collection bags that caregivers need easy access to. Or they're
50-year-olds with little girl frames that shouldn't be dressed up
in Disney and frills.
"It's
about dignity," says 36-year-old Tom Pirruccello, co owner--with
old school pal Kurt Rieback, 35--of one such business, Professional
Fit Clothing.
More
than a decade ago, the two men lived in different worlds. Pirruccello
was an assistant administrator in an L.A.-area home for people with
developmental disabilities and was tired of seeing young residents
wandering around in baggy polyester pants, voluminous dusters and
muumuus. Rieback was in the rag trade, selling bikinis in the downtown
garment district.
One
day, the two spotted each other on the freeway, went through a hand-waving
"Call me!" song and dance, and met soon after. Clearly,
they agreed, here was both a need and a niche, and the two of them
--Rieback, with his apparel industry know-how, Pirruccello with his
health-care experience--were perfectly poised to fill it. They started
Professional Fit Clothing soon after.
On
a Monday not long ago, at Professional Fit's offices on an industrial
street in Burbank, two women are sitting at sewing machines, shortening
and tapering slacks for a customer. Another worker is heat-sealing
name labels onto orders so clothes won't get jumbled and lost in group
homes that cater to a half-dozen or more.
Racks
of clothes hang here and there, near stacks of "clothing protectors,"
designed to save garments from drool and spilled food. (Some of the
protectors look like formal vests, others like bright Ts or jaunty
bandannas; all look much more stylish than bibs or towels traditionally
used in their stead.)
Rieback
rifles through the racks and points out items of interest. Here's
a fleece-lined, waterproof cape that covers customer and wheelchair,
a bestseller during El Nino; here's a find of a nightshirt he picked
up at an apparel show, complete with easy-fasten snaps and a cotton-poly
fabric that withstands fierce, industrial washes. A "buttoned"
shirt on this rack actually fastens with Velcro, combining appearance
with manageability; a Hawaiian shirt nearby has been cut open at the
back for easy dressing and comfort for a man who isn't able to sit
up, so must always lie on his back.
"Hawaiian
shirts are 'in' right now," Rieback says. "Why shouldn't
he have access to them?"
Rieback
hefts a clothes rack and zippered bags of clothing into the back of
his SUV, and heads over to Sylmar to Altano House, a 12-bed residential
nursing home where 51-year-old Margaret Cole and 43-year-old Susan
Ober live. Both need clothes, and with the help of Rieback and live-in
care provider Niecola Roberts, 28, the shopping list comes together.
Cole
seems taken aback by the sudden hubbub in her bedroom and the business
of being tape-measured. She watches as velour pantsuits and sweats
with snowman motifs are laid out on her bed--and says little but favors
a blue nightie. Roberts orders the nightie, which Cole needs, along
with several pantsuits with easy-to-manage elastic waistbands, a clothing
protector and a dress. Professional Fit will alter all the clothes
to fit Cole's tiny frame.
They'll
cut an extra opening--level with her stomach--in all the clothes,
so her caregivers can reach her gastric feeding tube with ease.
Rieback
moves the clothes to another bedroom, where Ober is sitting in her
wheelchair, listening to Hootie and the Blowfish and examining her
coin collection. Ober doesn't go for a purple outfit with the flowery
top she's shown but smiles at, then reaches out and touches, the blue
denim pantsuit--she likes its feel and color. Roberts orders it for
her.
"I
love it," says Roberts of the service. The clothes are competitively
priced, she says, and "Kurt brings clothes that you or I would
wear--not uniforms, not standout, 'OK, these are the clothes of the
handicapped,' but nice, normal things."
"It's
wonderful," agrees Kathryn Campbell, a service coordinator with
Therapeutic Living Centers, a nonprofit organization that provides
services for blind individuals with developmental disabilities and
runs 10 group homes in the L.A. area. "It's a difficult thing
to shop for people who are either nonverbal or in some way developmentally
disabled. This way, the client gets to pick out what they want. If
they're blind, they can feel. If they're nonverbal, you can show them
and they can point."
At
Rieback's last stop for the day, he sets up the clothes rack in the
living room of Elkwood House, a home for six in the San Fernando Valley.
Several women--all visually impaired--are clustered round the rack,
touching the clothes and asking about ones they like the feel of.
Monica
Valentine, a 44-year-old woman in a fuzzy, chenille top, seeks out
fabrics with soft, pleasing textures.
Yolanda Montes, 48, asks about the range of colors for a pantsuit,
and exclaims in surprise when she's told one is "oatmeal."
("Never heard of that," she says.)
Orders
complete, Rieback loads clothes and rack in his car again and heads
back to Burbank. It may not be as glam as the bikini biz, this job,
but he finds it much more satisfying.
"Every
day I get to see how happy it makes the people that I sell to,"
he says. "It's deeply rewarding. The other was kind of superficial."
Professional
Fit Clothing is in Burbank. Information about other businesses offering
specialty clothing can be obtained by calling these nonprofit centers,
which provide services and support for people with developmental disabilities:
-
Harbor Regional Center
(310) 540-1711
-
North Los Angeles County Regional Center
(818) 778-1900
- Frank
D. Lanterman Regional Center
(800) 546-3676
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