Lana Turner

Real estate agents rarely appear in the fashion pages of glossy magazines, but Lana Turner has never been much interested in doing what’s expected of her. The Harlem local (and, many would say, legend) first caught the gaze of the fashion media thanks to her impeccable style—simultaneously classic and unusual—which has now been admired and photographed by several generations of New Yorkers. She once sold a hard-to-shift townhouse by mounting a display of her outfits inside it.

Turner is embedded in the history of Harlem—not just in its buildings, but also in its culture. I met her while working on programming with the literary society she’s helmed for 38 years. She’s currently organizing a season based around the life of Alain Locke, the philosopher, educator and “father” of the Harlem Renaissance. It’s not so much that Turner is “more than” her style (500 boxed hats included), it’s that she sees her wardrobe as integral to her entire outlook on life. Through her love of music, art, literature and—above all—New York City, Turner remains a perpetual student in her 70th year.

You began getting noticed because of how elegant your everyday wear is—equivalent to most Harlemites’ “Sunday church” finery. Do you see personal style as a sort of public performance?
We’re oftentimes thinking about performance as something you get ready for—that you rehearse for, that you get costumed for, that you’re directed for. Then there are those of us who have a life where the performance is all of the life. Even though I may pass through the world of the public during the course of a day, [dressing] starts out just for me. It starts out with “What is the weather?” “What is the sunshine?” “What are the clouds?” I really think about all that, and it colors what I choose to adorn myself with. How I am presenting myself to the world is not necessarily always for the world of eyes. Because, well, how do the birds present themselves? How did the tree leaves present themselves? How do the squirrels and the chipmunks and the sparrows present themselves? They present themselves as their own performance. It’s the way they’re constructed—it’s their DNA. And I think it’s the same thing for me.

“There are those of us who have a life where the performance is all of the life.”

Can you pinpoint where your style outlook comes from?
Most people imagine that it would be my mother or my aunts. It’s really my father. I think of him as someone who always was “dressed”—dark pants, white shirt, a tie and wingtip shoes. [My love of] jazz also comes straight from my father because this is what he listened to. [George] Gershwin is what my father gave me. Cole Porter. He didn’t discuss it, he just simply had it on the radio. I could hear the grandeur of New York in Gershwin. It was the music and it was the buildings. It was the architecture and it was the light.

Do you enjoy the attention you get from admirers?
You know, if you’re walking down the street and someone pays you attention in New York City for no reason except that you have done something to distract their eyeballs for more than two seconds from their phones—you have actually done something! They may be appreciating you, but you’re also loving them. I mean, it’s easier to smile. It’s easier to take in the beauty of what you see. When there is a response—not all people respond—they are usually giving you the best of themselves.

Are you as interested in New York as New York is in you?
Walking is something that I love because living in New York City, there is always something going on in the street! I want to know, “Well, what is it?” “What has the culture done today?” I am a student of black culture. I’ve always known that black people perform when they step outside the door. Every day, there is somebody stepping outside totally unconcerned about whatever is happening next door. That they have their own and complete world that they’re enmeshed in, and it’s beautiful! There’s a humor in it.

You’ve spent four decades at the helm of a Harlem literary society. What role has it played in your life?
What is consistent is my intellectual side. There was always some place in my head that I made room for books, for ideas, for how to be. We’re sitting in a room that is wall-to-wall books. My life is built on them. These days I’m steeped in my literary society and the world of Alain Locke through [Jeffrey C. Stewart’s biography] The New Negro, and exploring Locke’s emphasis on beauty and individuality in encouraging the African-American artists of the time to embrace their capacity for reinvention through African forms. I see that New Negro all over Harlem now.

How do you stay so curious?
I work at understanding the world. And there’s so much to “get” that I’m constantly aware of how much I don’t know and how much I really want to know. That’s where I end. I mean all of the other stuff is nice, but I constantly try to figure out, “How should I look at that painting?” or, “Why is that photograph relevant?”

Tell me about your love of dance.
I’m not necessarily what I call a “showcase” dancer: I’m not the dancer that says to the audience, “I want you to look at me.” My consciousness is really on my partner and what I’m hearing. Dancing with a partner is always wonderful. All that private insight, it’s all happening, right there in front of a full audience. It’s about the music for me. The dancing is part of it but the music is where I really come from. And it just makes you instinctively want to be a part of it.

You turned 70 this year. How would you rate your life satisfaction?
I used to think that all the “extra” things I did were just that—they were extra. I never thought of them as being specific to who I am, largely because we’re—at least in a Western culture anyway—demarcating our time by what we do for work. I would not have called myself an artist most of my life.

When you are just yourself—if you could just try and figure out where your self is—all the other things fall into place. And if you’re giving the best of yourself, then you want to continue to move and improve on that. It leaves one with, “How can I make myself better?” There are so many things that go into that. But joy is at the top of it.