Except for Mrs. Van Buren, the characters in Intimate Apparel are by no means wealthy and are overwhelmingly black. Mrs. Dickson, the owner of the boardinghouse where Esther lives, is the only black woman who is truly doing well for herself. Simply by virtue of telling a story that's primarily about people who are members of marginalized groups—black, poor, Jewish, and female—Intimate Apparel explores how society's exploitation of these different identities traps characters and keeps them from achieving success in their personal and professional lives. It also goes to great lengths to explore how "low" society—that is, black society—is fetishized, exploited, and turned into entertainment for white people, thereby making the position of someone like Esther even worse.
Intimate Apparel goes to great lengths to show how difficult life is for all its poor characters. Though Mayme fortunately still has a sense of humor, she's resigned to what she believes is her unchangeable fate to work as a sex worker for the foreseeable future, something that pays the bills but does nothing else for her. Esther, meanwhile, has been shut out of any upward mobility because she's unmarried and black, while the Romanian Jewish fabric seller Mr. Marks clearly sleeps in his shop and watches his customers defect to other sellers. For all of these characters, their identities are a major, if not the defining factor of their poverty and their status in society: as a Jewish immigrant and a fabric seller, Mr. Marks would have suffered from widespread anti-Semitism from white Americans upset about immigration and suspicious of Jewish shopkeepers. Esther notes that while she's doing relatively well for herself, she can't expect to do much better on her own as a black woman. Similarly, Mayme can clearly pay the bills, but to do so must embody the stereotype of the hyper-sexualized black woman, and she believes she has no room for advancement. All of this gives the impression that without major change in the lives of any of these characters, they're effectively stuck in the status quo and, for the most part, shut out of reaching their goals and seeing their dreams come true. These marginalized identities, in other words, keep them from advancing in meaningful ways.
This state of affairs becomes especially apparent in George's case, as his letters to Esther allow the reader or viewer to get a more complete sense of how his life and his perception of his identity change after coming to New York to marry Esther. While George admits that in Panama he was treated like an animal and as though he was expendable, he also notes after coming to New York that there was dignity afforded to him in Panama that he can't achieve in the U.S. In New York, he understands that aspiring to do more than carry luggage or shine shoes makes him "uppity" and above his station as a black man in a society that's racist in a different and, for George, less bearable way than Panama was. Just as with Esther and Mayme, George is denied any possibilities for advancement because of his skin color, making it seem to him as though his only options are to gamble and see sex workers, including Mayme, to attempt to recreate some of the agency and control he for which he feels nostalgic.
Mrs. Van Buren, the white woman Esther sews for, demonstrates a variety of ways in which affluent white society fetishizes and idealizes lower-class, black society for its own entertainment. In her boredom and desire for intimacy of some sort, Mrs. Van Buren helps Esther—who is illiterate—write love letters to George. Though it's important to keep in mind that Esther truly seems to enjoy her job and especially loves the fabric she works with, through these letters, Mrs. Van Buren helps to further idealize Esther's job as a seamstress, thereby glossing over the less savory facts of Esther's life, such as her poverty and her marginalized position as a black woman and a spinster. Further, Mrs. Van Buren also orders corsets modeled on those that Esther makes for Mayme. For Mrs. Van Buren, wearing "naughty," sexy corsets like those that sex workers wear is something exciting and a thing she can do from the safety of her lavishly furnished boudoir, without having to grapple with what it's actually like to be involved in sex work.
The stage notes also make it clear that Mrs. Van Buren, in her loneliness, has romantic feelings for Esther, which culminates in attempting to kiss Esther during Esther's final visit to her home. When Esther rejects this advance, Mrs. Van Buren insists that the two of them can still "just be friends," a suggestion that Esther says is indicative of all the ways in which Mrs. Van Buren isn't actually her friend and has no idea what Esther's life is like—in Mrs. Van Buren's eyes, Esther is paid entertainment and emotional fulfillment, not a friend on equal footing.
Esther then returns to Mrs. Dickson's boardinghouse, having presumably lost Mrs. Van Buren as a customer and George to gambling. This may mean that Esther is returning to a life in which she continues to have few prospects for upward mobility, but by refusing to allow Mrs. Van Buren to fetishize her, Esther is able to create a sense of dignity and control over her situation, something the play suggests is all she can reasonably expect.
Race, Class, and Exploitation ThemeTracker
Race, Class, and Exploitation Quotes in Intimate Apparel
Mrs. Van Buren: I've given him no children. (Whispered.) I'm afraid I can't. It's not for the lack of trying. One takes these things for granted, you assume when it comes time that it will happen, and when it doesn't who is to blame? They think it's vanity that's kept me childless, I've heard the women whispering. If only I were that vain. But it's like he's given up.
Mayme: All the pawing and pulling. For a dollar they think they own you.
Esther: You know that white lady I talk about sometime, hold on...She keep asking me what they be wearing up in the Tenderloin. All that money and high breeding and she want what you wearing.
Mayme: No kidding?
Esther: What she got, you want, what you got, she want.
Mayme: Let me tell you, so many wonderful ideas been conjured in this room. They just get left right in that bed there, or on this piano bench. They are scattered all over this room. Esther, I ain't waiting for anybody to rescue me. My Panama man come and gone long time now. It sweet that he write you but, my dear, it ain't real.
Esther: DON'T! This quilt is filled with my hard work, one hundred dollars for every year I been seated at that sewing machine. It's my beauty parlor. So you see I don't need Mr. Charles for his good job and position.
Mrs. Van Buren: By the way, I bled this morning, and when I delivered the news to Harry, he spat at me. This civilized creature of society. We all bleed, Esther. And yet I actually felt guilt, as though a young girl again apologizing for becoming a woman.
Mrs. Van Buren: I should like to see one for myself. You must take me to one of your shows.
Esther: And will you take me to the opera next time you go?
Mrs. Van Buren: I would, if I could. It would be marvelously scandalous, just the sort of thing to perk up this humdrum season. It is so easy to be with you. Your visits are just about the only thing I look forward to these days. You, and our letters to George, of course. Shall we write something dazzling to him? Something delicious.
Mayme: And do you love him?
Esther: As much as you can love a man you ain't seen. I'm thirty-five, Mayme, and he wants to marry me. And there ain't gonna be no more opportunities I'm afraid. I've told him yes.
Mrs. Dickson: Bless his broken-down soul. He had fine suits and perfect diction, and was too high on opium to notice that he was married. But I would not be a washerwoman if it killed me. And I have absolutely marvelous hands to prove it.
Esther: But it Sunday. I'll put on some tea, and sit, let me mend your shirt. You can't go out with a hole in your shirt. (Esther touches the hole in his shirt.) What will they say about your wife? I won't hear the end of it from Mrs. Dickson.
Mrs. Van Buren: Please. We will forget this and continue to be friends.
Esther: Friends? How we friends? When I ain't never been through your front door. You love me? What of me do you love?
Mrs. Van Buren: Esther, you are the only one who's been in my boudoir in all these months. And honestly, it's only in here with you that I feel...happy. Please, I want us to be friends?
George: 'Least in Panama a man know where 'e stand. 'E know 'e chattel. That as long as 'e have a goat 'e happy. 'E know when 'e drunk, 'e drunk and there ain' no judgment if so. But then 'e drink in words of this woman. She tell 'e about the pretty avenues, she tell 'e plentiful. She fill up 'e head so it 'ave no taste for goat milk. She offer 'e the city stroke by stroke. She tantalize 'e with Yankee words. But 'e not find she. Only this woman 'ere, that say, touch me, George.
Esther: I ain't really Mrs. Armstrong, am I? I been holding on to that, and that woman ain't real. We more strangers now than on the eve of our wedding. At least I knew who I was back then. But I ain't gonna let you hurt that woman. No! She's a good decent woman and worthy. Worthy!
Mayme: The world changing and he wants big strong horses. He made me laugh. He promised to take me out someplace special, but I didn't have nothing nice to wear. And honestly it made me think about how long it been since I done something for myself. Gone someplace like you said, where a colored woman could go to put up her feet and get treated good for a change. And I see the dice rolling, and I think Lord, God, wouldn't a place like that be wonderful. But every time the dice roll, that place is a little further away. Until it all gone.