By: Carl Schwartzbaum

It was once hailed as the Rolls Royce of dry cleaning — a Midtown Manhattan institution where celebrity brides, Fifth Avenue elites, and international couture houses entrusted their most prized garments. But in recent years, Madame Paulette, the luxury cleaner long considered a last stop for irreplaceable gowns and designer wear, has become the center of a storm of allegations. According to a string of lawsuits, online reviews, and customer complaints, the storied service has allegedly lost, damaged, or mishandled thousands of dollars’ worth of luxury fashion.

A deep dive by The New York Post reveals a troubling picture of unmet promises, high-end heartbreak, and an iconic brand now saddled with an average 2.6 stars on Yelp and a dreaded “F” rating from the Better Business Bureau. For an establishment that once billed itself as the gold standard for garment preservation, the slide has been swift and very public.

The most recent flashpoint came courtesy of influencer Claudia Li Johnson, who took to TikTok on September 19 to tell her followers that Madame Paulette had “lost” her custom Vera Wang wedding dress — a gown sent for preservation in 2021 and still missing three years later.

“I’ll never be able to give … my daughter my wedding dress,” Johnson sobbed in her video, which quickly racked up hundreds of thousands of views. “It’s not even like I can replace the dress, it holds significant sentimental value.”

Her lament struck a chord far beyond social media. As The New York Post reported, Johnson’s ordeal mirrored a growing chorus of complaints from other clients who claim their most cherished possessions — from heirloom gowns to bespoke designer coats — were mishandled or never returned.

The outrage has not been confined to individual customers. Even global fashion powerhouse Fendi found itself locked in a legal battle with Madame Paulette. In a lawsuit filed last year, the Italian brand alleged the Midtown service lost a $110,000 chinchilla coat and a $22,900 mink bomber jacket.

For a luxury house to publicly air grievances over a lost garment is rare. That such items could vanish under the watch of a company once trusted with the wardrobes of celebrities and socialites sent shockwaves through New York’s fashion community.

The turmoil dates back to 2021, when Madame Paulette, after filing for bankruptcy, was acquired by the ByNext cleaning conglomerate. Its CEO, Kam Saifi, has been quick to draw distinctions between the old and new regimes.

Speaking to The New York Post, Saifi dismissed some of the complaints as “out of our control,” pointing to preexisting damage in certain garments, such as custom drapes that a Greenwich, Connecticut woman claimed were destroyed after cleaning. That case ended with a $31,000 judgment against the company in April, but Saifi insists the fabric had already been compromised by sun exposure.

As for the Fendi lawsuit, Saifi characterized it as an “obligation of the prior ownership,” unrelated to the company’s current operations.

Yet an analysis by The Post uncovered more than a dozen new complaints filed since ByNext took over. Allegations range from Valentino gowns inexplicably ruined, to wedding dresses returned to the wrong brides, to high-value items that customers say simply disappeared.

Yelp reviews and BBB filings collected by The New York Post paint a vivid, if alarming, portrait:

One customer claimed: “In 2021, I gave Madame Paulette $30,000 worth of clothing — I HAVE NEVER SEEN IT SINCE.”

Another alleged her bright pink Valentino dress was returned bleached stark white.

A vintage Christian Dior gown, a historical fashion piece, was said to have been destroyed by “inappropriate chemicals.”

Multiple wedding dresses were reportedly misdelivered, with one complaint noting a gown arrived “to the wrong bride.”

In one eyebrow-raising account, a customer alleged that a worker offered her an “unclaimed belt” to take home.

While The New York Post report could not independently verify each review, the sheer volume of claims — some echoing nearly identical experiences — has fueled public skepticism about the company’s handling of luxury garments.

In an almost cinematic twist, Johnson’s long-lost Vera Wang resurfaced within hours of The New York Post contacting the company about her case.

A spokesperson promptly sent over photographs of the gown, claiming it had been located in a climate-controlled storage facility and was now ready for delivery. Saifi explained that during the integration of Madame Paulette into ByNext’s operations, “the name tag was dropped.”

When Johnson’s video escalated the situation on social media, Saifi ordered a “complete sweep” of the company’s 70,000-square-foot warehouse. Among the unnamed items discovered was Johnson’s dress.

The timing raised eyebrows, with many online critics wondering how a missing heirloom could suddenly materialize only after public scrutiny. Johnson herself has not publicly responded to inquiries since the gown was reportedly recovered.

In his defense, Saifi has repeatedly emphasized scale. “With any business that provides services, things happen,” he told The New York Post. “When you measure that as a percentage of the work … this is less than a fraction of 1%.”

He admitted some “items have been misdelivered” but argued that in certain cases, garments believed lost were later found in a customer’s own closet, or misfiled by a client’s personal staff.

Saifi categorically denied the online speculation that Madame Paulette was reselling or misusing customer property. “We categorically deny renting, reselling, or otherwise misusing any customer property,” he insisted.

The accusations represent a stark fall from grace for a business once synonymous with opulence and reliability. Founded in 1959, Madame Paulette cultivated a reputation as the go-to cleaner for couture. High-profile clients — from Hollywood stars to Wall Street titans — trusted the Midtown shop with wardrobes worth millions.

Its specialty service of wedding gown preservation became particularly renowned, marketed as a way to keep gowns pristine for decades. For many brides, handing over their dresses to Madame Paulette was as important as the dress fitting itself.

But as The New York Post report noted, the reputational damage inflicted by recent controversies may prove difficult to mend. Yelp’s one-star horror stories, an “F” BBB grade, and litigation from luxury labels are not the calling cards of a company catering to New York’s elite.

The saga highlights the fragile trust between high-end service providers and their rarefied clientele. In an industry where reputation is currency, even a handful of mishandled cases can snowball into a brand crisis.

For a bride such as Johnson, the issue is not only financial but deeply personal. As she expressed in her viral video, her dress was intended as an heirloom, a tangible link between generations. No monetary settlement could restore that symbolic loss.

And for a global house such as Fendi, the loss of irreplaceable furs raises questions about accountability and professional standards at a company still marketing itself as the pinnacle of luxury care.

Despite the controversies, Madame Paulette continues to operate under the ByNext umbrella. Its leadership insists that its “highest standards of care, integrity, and customer service” remain intact.

But the court cases, complaints, and online uproar chronicled by The New York Post suggest otherwise. With each viral story, each lawsuit, each scathing Yelp review, the gap widens between the brand’s reputation of old and the perception of today.

Whether Madame Paulette can recover its former luster — or whether it becomes a cautionary tale of how even the most prestigious service can falter — remains an open question. For now, the company finds itself on the defensive, fighting to reassure clients that their garments, and their trust, remain safe.