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A Primer On John Weitz (part three of three)

Weitz could easily have easily taken an early retirement and lived quite comfortably. Weitz however was more fully informed. Weitz’s interests extended beyond 7th Avenue, extended beyond the runways, and extended beyond the confines of fashion’s limited view of the world. While his contemporaries began to rest, selling their business’s selling their names, like Halston, it is now that Weitz who is in the prime of his life begins to hit his stride. 

It was an altogether prosaic life. The Weitz' divided their time between the home in Manhattan and Westhampton Beach, on Long Island, where he boated, and she gardened. Weitz only began to start writing after (namedropper) John Steinbeck, who was living in nearby Sag Harbor, told him, "You had a decent education, you've no right not to write." Weitz was receptive. "I asked him how to do it, and he said he'd tell me the next morning," said the designer. "He arrived that day with a big yellow lined pad, and said, 'This is how you write.'" On little more than a dare, Weitz soon began his first novel, The Value of Nothing, about a New Yorker from an unlikely background who becomes a fashion designer, which hit the 1970 best-seller lists.

His novel, The Value of Nothing was published in 1970, with the familiar Weitz signature embossed on its cover, and sure enough became a national best-seller. It remain a realistic indictment, a cruel portrait of the rag trade it deals unashamedly, if not obsessively, with both homosexuality, and anti-Semitism, especially as it existed in America in the 1950’s, and the garment business itself… “Kikes we need because they're quick money. But too many of them can ruin the atmosphere, so keep it down. And once they're inside be sure they don't cluster!”

The richly autobiographical The Value of Nothing deserves a reissue for it attack on anti-Semitism, polite society, (today’s political correctness)  and its cleverly drawn deceptions that pulls no punches… “Fuck them all! Fuck their beards, the yarmulkes, their prayer shawls, their bagels and kishkas, their Talmudic smart alecks, their waving hands; fuck their contempt! The yid from Whitechapel was Mayfair now”.

Weitz’s was more than eye-candy, his good looks and fashion sensibility was a conundrum for many people in the industry who stereotypically suspected homosexuality, or at least hoped for it. Indeed, Weitz did not fit the mold of the flaming queen that many expected in the fashion industry, nor may he have been a gay advocate (by today’s standards), but he despised intolerance, gave many a closeted man work, and a safe harbor. Weitz was a straight man, a well-adjusted heterosexual to who homosexuality was seldom an issue. In fact, he was nun-plussed concerning it. Weitz was also a man with many connections, as when he confirmed that a former OSS boss had shown him gangster blackmail photos of the longtime FBI Director and homo-phobe, J. Edgar Hoover inflagrante with his boyfriend, Clyde Tolson.

While not revolutionary or high art (although it wasn’t written to be revolutionary or high art) his second book, the aptly named, Man in Charge: The Executive's Guide to Grooming, Manners and Travel, also made the best-seller lists in 1974. It was for the US market one of the first “how to” books for men on the art of dressing, grooming and travel. Alas, there was once a time when fathers passed down this information to their sons, a time when people knew their local tailor, a time before mass-marketed clothing came in from China, and ready to wear, and one size fits all were de rigueur. In retrospect, it reflects a time of innocence, when the beautiful people jet-setted between the coasts, dressed up to get on a plane, and air travel was glamorous. Today we throw or stuff in a knapsack, buy a bottle of Poland Spring and hope that we’ll just make it through security. Rest assured, Weitz did not wear a soiled pair of Kikes in first class. 

By 1974, with annual earnings of $18 million dollars his company was already one of the most stable in the market and Weitz walked into his Madison Avenue offices a bona fide bestseller. The worst that might be said of Weitz is that he was a work-aholic. If he was chasing something it was elusive. His work ethic is legendary. "He doesn't smoke or drink. He has to have some vice," explained his wife. 

In the 1970's, Weitz's friend Albert "Cubby" Broccoli, producer of the James Bond movies, teased him about his resemblance to the character, adding that Weitz was better looking and proposed the role to him, Ian Fleming had reported that Weitz was used as the prototype for his character, in typical Hollywood style producers cast Roger Moore instead. 

Weitz returned to autobiographical fiction. His novel Friends in High Places is about an honest German citizen who ends up in the Brownshirts, and later became a cult best-seller in 1982 amongst German youth. Indeed Weitz was decorated with the First Class Order of Merit by the Federal Republic of Germany, and became well acquainted with Richard von Weizsäcker, the President, who even offered him the chance to become a German citizen again.

Two other books, however, marked out Weitz as a historian of the Nazi period. He wrote Hitler's Diplomat, a biography of the third Reich foreign minister, Joachim von Ribbentrop, and its sequalesque, Hitler's Banker, about the president of the Reichsbank, Hjalmar Horace Greeley Schacht.

Weitz was repeatedly taunted about reconciling the vacuous occupation of sale of navy blazers, and researching the bon vivant, von Ribbentrop, but he saw no class, "Who else but a fashion designer would understand such a worldly man?" Weitz certainly comprehended the Nazis genius for the projection of personal image though the use of propaganda and clothing, and how clothing communicates, and, though never a major historian established a sufficiently solid reputation, such that, as a researcher, the president of Germany consulted him on the subject.

Towards the end of the century, Weitz still now fully mature continued to glance back. He traded in his sketchpad for a writing tablet. He exchanged his Singer for an Olivetti electric. 

Instead Weitz embarked on his searing and insightful study of Hitler's diplomat, von Ribbentrop, who rather than being a real aristocrat ,was a cosmopolitan, a champagne merchant, and dexterous social animal, well suited to Weitz's own psychology. The parallels between von Ribbentrop and Weitz are apparent, but further transparency suggest that many people in the fashion industry could easily become fascists, if not already. This realization cut too close for the mercenary press and designer hoi-poli who fancied themselves above it all. As Weitz declared upon being challenged, “Who but a fashion designer would understand a social climber? I wanted to write about the Nazis through the eyes of somebody I might have met at a cocktail party. I have sat in rooms for the last 40 years talking to people who sat at dinner tables with Hitler. The Ribbentrops went to the same resorts, played on the same tennis courts, wore the same clothes as my parents.” Other connections were more unsettling for Weitz, while looking through Ribbentrop's family albums at the National Archives in Washington, "I felt slightly embarrassed because the albums look exactly like my families," he is quoted, perhaps having a there but for the grace of God go I moment.  Ribbentrop was the ultimate go-getter, an aristocrat who became enamored of Hitler. Having no ideology or scruples, Ribbentrop used everything and everyone to ingratiate himself with the Führer, says Weitz, simply because "he wanted to be terribly important in the world. Eventually, that's what he got."

As Weitz himself put it himself on the 1992 publication of Hitler's Diplomat, his biography of Joachim von Ribbentrop, “Find me another fashion designer who was born in Germany, served in the OSS (Office of Strategic Services) and knows the Nazi Party to the point where many people including the President of Germany consult him about it, and I'll show you a lousy fashion designer!"

Hitler’s Diplomat isn't merely the portrait of an opportunist. Weitz was pursuing a longtime fascination with his fatherland, and how it came to be seduced by a madman.  Weitz managed to evoke Ribbentrop's world thanks to his own privileged background and several years of intense and studious research. Weitz interviewed scores of actual eyewitnesses, including Ribbentrop's 80-year-old former secretary, who he knew in Germany before and during Nazism. This made his book, a living document, not just a historical analysis.

The book was largely well received, The New York Times Book Review proclaimed “His new book, Hitler's Diplomat, a dispassionate, detailed biography of Joachim von Ribbentrop, the onetime champagne salesman who became Adolf Hitler's foreign minister may bring even more cachet to the Weitz name”…”its a thorough, engaging work of designer craftsmanship that guides readers through Ribbentrop's life, up to his execution by hanging in 1946 for complicity in the Third Reich's reign of terror.” In a 1992 interview with The New York Times, Mr. Weitz said he could not count the number of times he was asked how he reconciled the dichotomy between designing and writing about such serious topics. ''As Shakespeare said, 'One man in his time plays many roles,' and who else but a fashion designer would understand such a worldly man?''

The Times of London praised Weitz's "keen, discerning understanding of most of the cast of clowns, rogues and psychopaths who inhabit his elegantly written pages.” 

It certainly sold well. Some however were less kind, practically insouciant, the prestigious review Foreign Affairs going so far as to call it a trivial, chatty bio of Hitler's instrument for foreign policy, drawn essentially from a scant number of published sources, and marked by factual errors and an a historical perspective. Well, I’d like to see them sew a dress.

One wonders what those hard-nosed book reviewers were doing during the war. By 1943, Weitz’s fluency in German landed him a job with the Voice of America. Weitz joined the Army, and then became a U.S. citizen, at age 21, after which he was assigned to the Office of Strategic Services, the forerunner of the CIA. Working as an undercover espionage agent, he infiltrated enemy lines in France, and worked with the German Resistance, including the officers who plotted the unsuccessful assassination attempt on Hitler in 1944. He frequently crossed through Europe, and ended the Second World War billeted with military intelligence in a villa outside Munich.  After leaving the OSS, Weitz was among the first troops who liberated the concentration camp at Dachau. "To me, the Holocaust means that grim, horrible day I can never forget." If it sounds like the synopsis of a Hollywood film, like The Eiger Sanction, Where Eagles Dare or Inglorious bastards, they pale in comparison.

In 1991, his company, based in grand offices at 600 Madison Avenue, had an estimated turnover of $250 million, and that was long after the glory years.

Mixed reviews did not deter Weitz from embarking on yet another long odyssey of research in the archives of America and Europe, research he admitted he found personally painful, to write his last book, a portrait of Hjalmar Schacht, Hitler's Banker, which was published in 1998.

Weitz skillfully let his name generate money by itself, using witty advertisements to maintain a high public profile. A skilled entrepreneur with a fine honed ability to self promote, a poster on the back of New York buses announced, for example, "She ditched him, John Weitz ties and all". For a while, the striking designer posed for his own ads, but it was the quirky, quotes-only ones, which he created with the ad agency C.J. Herrick Associates, that really created a buzz. "The idea is to amuse without annoying and make for a little adult entertainment."  The rarely self-effacing Weitz Said, "My favorite is the one that reads, 'Cute.' 'What? The one wearing the John Weitz tie?' 'No, the one standing next to him.' 

The Weitz’ had two sons of their own, Christopher and Paul, who if the apples do not fall from the tree are renaissance talents themselves and would later go onto write, the screenplays, produce and direct films like “American Pie” “About A Boy” and “The Vampire Diaries”. His sons remembered Ingmar Bergman taking them to the circus, and film directors John Huston and Billy Wilder dropping in for coffee  as "just nice old men around the house every once in a while". The boys' chief complaint about their father was that he made them wear blue blazers with insignias. Like Weitz, they too were educated in England and seem capable of everything, whether acting in Chuck & Buck writing the script for Pixar’s Antz or demonstrating their skill as gourmet chefs. They're also these scholarly, erudite guys. Like their father they have been described as directors who read Trollope between set-ups. Men that balance retrained Anglophile high culture and American commercial success. “Our father kept saying, you know Merchant Ivory is looking for some decent writers. He thought it was a disaster. Well, doesn't Merchant Ivory need someone to write their films? We did American Pie instead of Howard’s End II. But our dad is proud of us anyway” In fact, anyone who fancies a foretaste of the frank vulgarity, shock tactics and brutally embarrassing honesty of the Weitz brothers' American Pie only needs to read their fathers novels to see where that brilliant vulgarity was bred, it was their fraternal inheritance. 

On October  4th of 2002, at age 79, Weitz passed way. The cause was cancer. Surviving Weitz  was his wife Susan Kushner, his daughter Karen, and Robert, from his first marriage to Sally Blauner and his sons Paul and Christopher.

At the time of his death, Weitz was already planning another historical book, about the Gestapo. As usual, the subject wasn’t nearly as important to the testimonial Weitz as the setting. Writing about Hitler's Germany, Weitz said, is less an obsession than a duty. "If you are a witness to anything that needs to be set straight,” then you must tell about it." Unfinished, the novel based was based on the life of the World Heavyweight Champion boxer Max Schmeling, who heroically saved Jewish lives during the Second World War. 

Awards

Sports Illustrated award, 1959

NBC Today Show award, 1960

Caswell-Massey awards, 1965-1966

Harper's Bazaar Medallion, 1966

Moscow Diploma, 1967

International Best Dressed List Hall of Fame 1971 until death 

Coty American Fashion Critics award, 1974

Cartier Design award, 1981 

Mayor's Liberty medal, New York, 1986 

First Class Order of Merit, Germany, 1988

Dallas Menswear Mart award, 1990

Fashion Institute of Technology President's award, 1990. 

Books By John Weitz

·         Sports Clothes for Your Sports Car, New York, 1959.

·         The Value of Nothing, New York & London, 1970.

·         Man in Charge, New York, 1974.

·         Friends in High Places, New York, 1982.

·         Hitler's Diplomat, London, 1992.

·         Hitler's Banker: Hjalmar Horace Greeley Schacht, New York, 1997.

Articles by John Weitz

·         "Auto Motives," in the New York Times Magazine, 27 March 1988.

·         "Jocks and Nerds: Men's Style in the Twentieth Century" (book review), in the New York Times Book Review, 3 December 1989.

·         "Home Away from Home," in New York Magazine, 19 February 1990.

·         "Fashion Statements," in Town & Country (New York), July 1994.

Books about John Weitz

·         Bender, Marilyn, The Beautiful People, New York, 1968.

Articles about John Weitz

·         Talley, André Leon, "John Weitz," in Interview (New York), March 1983.

·         Gross, Michael, "Design for Living," in GQ, September 1985.

·         Ferrari, Lynn, "John Weitz: Image of Distinction," in Millionaire, December 1987.

·         Brady, James, "In Step with John Weitz," in Parade Magazine, 31 July 1988.

·         Christy, Marian, "A Stylist with the Power of Politeness," in the Boston Globe, 9 April 1989.

·         Harris, Joyce Saenz, "The Novel Life of John Weitz," in the Dallas Morning News (Texas), 8 April 1990.

·         Simon, Cecelia Capuzzi, "Can You Explain John Weitz?" in the New York Observer, 10 September 1990.

·         Parola, Robert, "The Way It Was: John Weitz," in DNR, 22 May 1992.

·         Van Lenten, Barry, "Menswear Designer Pioneers: John Weitz," in DNR, 18 January 1995.

·         Taffin, William E., "In the Beginning…Menswear Designer John Weitz Helps Start the Men's Sportswear Revolution," in DNR, 18 January 1995.

·         Flanagan, William G., and Diana Merelman, "Tribalwear," in Forbes, 5 May 1997.

·         Murray, David, "Hitler's Banker: Hjalmar Horace Greeley Schacht," in the New York Times Book Review, 25 January 1998.

·         Horyn, Cathy, "Growing up Weitz," in New York Times Magazine, 20 February 2000.

"Dress is a form of tribalism; people wear what their tribe wears…executives, blue-collar workers, undertakers, accountants. They want to feel tribally appropriate. Distinguishing yourself within your tribe is a matter of style, not fashion." John Weitz

A Primer On John Weitz (part two of three)

"I wear white business shirts; I can't take the time to fiddle with front studs. The last thing I want is to be controlled by fashion." John Weitz, on why he seldom wore a formal dress shirt with his tuxedo

It is unlikely that anyone who knew Weitz would say, and certainly, no one would dare say in his presence, that Weitz was controlled by fashion, rather, he treated fashion as a chosen field, one among many. He had abandoned the competitive and histrionic field of women's wear for the more mannerly, self-invented calling in menswear. Even there, he stayed slightly aloof, yet a maverick, choosing to play the debonair gentleman, rather than fashion victimizer like so many of his contemporaries. He developed two rare personalities, a late night New York intellectual, seeming swirling scotch as he toiled over fabric swatches, and a natural aristocrat, who has seen aristocracies disintegrate, but who persisted in creating new ones. It is a pity that F. Scott Fitzgerald died so young. Mr. Weitz was a Gatsby.

Weitz was a genius in recognizing the power of licensing. His signature appeared on a slew of sundry items like umbrellas, socks neckties, sunglasses, cologne, watches, and scarves. Weitz was not however indiscriminate. He understood the importance of “Branding”, before Madison Avenue really caught on. Despite the lucrative offers for licensing Weitz did exercise his limits. He would not use his name on clothing for large women, police and airline uniforms, or cigarettes "They wanted to tell me how to design them, I thought it would be immoral''. 

John Fairchild, the former publisher of Women's Wear Daily, recalled that Mr. Weitz was a very clever businessman. ''He made some wonderful sportswear, he understood very sporty clothes, and he had a certain amount of elegance about what he did,'' he said. ''He did very well at putting his name on things,'' Mr. Fairchild said. ''He became sort of a household name.'' Mr. Fairchild considered Mr. Weitz more of a stylist than a designer. ''He was making things he thought were attractive for the general public, and at that time this was rather unique.'' 

Licensing inadvertently freed him up. His acumen for business enabled Weitz to build an empire in menswear with a minimum of participation from the designer. His executive and cosmopolitan lifestyle established only the guidelines for future product development. The Weitz “look” had long been established. In many ways, Weitz was the first to be such a designer, god-like then thereafter far removed from the world of his own creation. Weitz made a point, however, of wearing his own clothes; this is a matter of honor for a man of aristocratic lineage, if not always Boy Scoutish, integrity.

"I never planned on being a great couturier to me fashion is not an art but a craft.” John Weitz

Weitz had became one of the first popular men's fashion designers in the early 1960's, shifting his emphasis to this field for its capability to fulfill his interest in classic looks, utmost practicality, and no-nonsense durability. Until Giorgio Armani and Ralph Lauren in the late 1970's, no designer was as faithful as Weitz to menswear. In personal style as well as his design, Weitz exemplified a genteel sensibility, clothing that was  refined, understated (for the times) he had an unerring eye,  unpretentious good taste that comes from human attention to what is important in life, with clothing following as a consequence of those values. Even in the extreme years of menswear in the late 1960's and early 1970's, Weitz's vision was always balanced; it had a masculine temperament that conveyed confidence.

  

The word "dashing" appears often and adjacent to names like Tyrone Power and Gary Cooper, who were dress by none other than  John Weitz, who was movie star handsome. Easy on the eyes, Weitz as he matured was his own dream model, healthy and scrubbed, with a flat stomach; he looked like the all-American boy next door, albeit with a suave English cum Germanic infused patois. Despite his East Coast addresses, he always managed to look tan, and as bronzed as a sun kissed demi-god. He only got better looking. He was a natural, confidant, poised, articulate and charming, and wildly successful touring stores showing off his new line of narrow, European-cut shirts, ties, and half the width of the standard American style. He was in some respects his greatest asset. His navy suit, alphabet-patterned ties and aoubergine socks are commonplace now, but were then part of a new, executive self-presentation, more about putting it together, than design, so much so, Alan Flusser could have been his protégé, but I date myself, Carson Kressley could have been his protégé, if he could bluff at a man’s game like poker, which is very doubtful.

For those interested in style, Weitz was an exemplar of modern dandyism, an infamously well-dressed man, who had an innate and well-developed sense for the slightest detail of grooming, a rightful regular on every "Best Dressed" list. While not a peacock or rainbow generation fashionista, he could put together a glen plaid suit with a yellow striped shirt, teal colored socks, an orange tie, and navy blue pocket square and look more manly than David Beckham or George Clooney on their best day. For those of us for whom Beau Brummell is a figure of respect, that would be more than sufficient, but for the more slovenly world at large Weitz was also a vastly successful businessman, and a talented designer who could make a ready to wear suit as sharp and polished as a BMG.

Meanwhile, he lived the life of his executive persona; he belonged to the New York Yacht Club, and the Vintage Sports Car Club. One might think that racing cars with Paul Newman or wining yachting competitions in your spare time is enough to complete the myth, Weitz’ life is not a myth, it is an epic. He was frequently written up in the press and social pages for his glittering penthouse cocktail parties where he served martinis, “shaken, not stirred”. He was in every respect a swanky playboy, mysterious, exciting, and adventuresome, ergo irresistible. Not cut from a typical bolt of fabric, the idiosyncratic Weitz had an idiosyncratic penchant for cats. Weitz adored their elegance, and was quoted on them more often than on the Nazis.

"Even overweight cats instinctively know the rule: when fat, arrange yourself in slim poses," John Weitz

In his Park Avenue apartment, a Chinese chef cooked salon styled dinner parties for his friends, among them the novelist Tom Wolfe, and lots of interesting film people. In 1964, hedging all bets, he met , fell in love and married the actress, Susan Kohner, who had starred in Douglas Sirk's Imitation of Life (1959), and who had already won two Golden Globes, and been nominated for an Academy Award as Best Supporting Actress, (she lost to Shelley Winters). On the face of it, the marriage was a surprise twist in a life riffled with turns. Weitz was twice divorced with several children, but played the hip playboy effortlessly. He didn’t appear to be “marriage material”. Weitz was what was once known as, a “man’s man”. The kind of guy that women and men wanted to “hang out” with. Rest assured; he too came to his marriage with a history. In 1943, he had first been married to the actress, Sally Blauner, followed by a marriage to the Fashion Editor, Eve Orton, which also ended in divorce. While relatively brief marriages, he was a man of scruples…so they say. He didn’t kiss and tell. Kohner, was talented, intelligent and attractive, had been married before. A ready-made family seemed out of character for the paramour known for his conquests. With no track record, the solidarity and fidelity that is required for a successful marriage would seem against the odds in New York or Vegas. Yet, the marriage was just what the doctor ordered, and Weitz went onto one of the most successful marriages in the industry, maybe not such a surprise for a man who made a success out of everything. Talk about good omens, best friend, Bill Blass was best man at his wedding. I am told there was champagne, rice, and orange blossoms.  

Susan Kohner was a bona fide talent. Her work unfortunately gets short shrift. Coming from a show business family, she was often thought of as someone who used her connections to get parts. Nothing could be further from the truth. Kohner worked in film and television with great regularity, and was a true “working actress”. Kohner herself stated, “The quickest way for a pretty girl to crack the movies is to win a beauty contest, be a model or a cover girl. It isn't so easy if you're born into the business”.  Regrettably, Kohner was typecast by producers as the archetypical 1950’s “bad girl” type. Indeed, her father was a powerful man. Her father was the legendary Hollywood talent agent Paul Kohner, who represented everyone from Billy Wilder to John Huston to Ingmar Bergman, whilst her mother was the Mexican actress Lupita Tovar, star of Drácula (1931). If you review Ms. Kohner's performances in films like Imitation of Life and (my personal favorite of hers) the nearly forgotten, Freud you will readily see that this is an actress that retired too soon from the screen. Alas, the new Mrs. Weitz retired after only a few more films to concentrate on her extended family. She altogether disappeared from the public and went on to become a New York socialite. To give up one’s career is tantamount to a kind of suicide. To wit, ironically Weitz, appreciating her talents dressed his wife as Hamlet in a leotard and concoction of chiffon for a Shakespeare Festival Benefit at the Plaza Hotel in 1966. I saw Kohner recently at a book signing for recent Born to Be Hurt: The Untold Story of Imitation of Life by Sam Staggs, and she is still beautiful, and spoke of her husband in the most reverent tones.

Perhaps the greatest achievement of Weitz as a fashion designer, however, was in the creation of a secondary version of his own lifestyle, in the person of another Jewish accessory designer whose fantasy of Waspy European snobbery was to turn contemporaries like the Bronx born, Ralph Lipchitz to Ralph Lauren. On the face of it, nearly everything about Lauren comes from Weitz. Weitz however , unlike Lauren was actually was a member of the Palm Beach Club, the East Hampton Yacht Club, the Sag Harbor Yacht Club, the US Navy Academy Sailing Squadron, and did not just make sumptuous advertisements set in such places. Weitz lived that lifestyle. I adore Mr. Lauren, but ultimately he is a poseur. Mr. Lauren swallowed the entire baggage of continental aristocracy, the notion of marketing and advertising-driven design, and the idea of the name-brand object with its associative glamour. With Lauren doing it so well, so thoroughly, Weitz was hardly required to remain in the running.

The story concludes in a day or two, so please return for part three of “A Primer On John Weitz.

 

A Primer On John Weitz (part one of three)

“When a woman dresses up for an occasion, the man should become the black velvet pillow for the jewel.” John Weitz

Today at school (I’m a professor at a business school for fashion) one of our students, a young man, a mere twenty or so, was wearing a Stone Martin (fox pelt, usually with the head, legs, and tail in tact) with his jeans jacket, looking half like a dashing Hessian soldier, and half like Lucy Ricardo on her way out with Ricky. I was not certain what to make of it. There are moments in one’s fashion life when one wonders… “I wonder what (insert name, Bill Blass, Halston or) John Weitz would say about this”.

Many of you reading this may not know whom John Weitz was. If so, read on. If you are well acquainted with Mr. Weitz, read on too, no harm will come to you.

Unfortunately, in recent years Weitz has fallen below the radar of the fashion hierarchy and historyarchy. (If there even is such a genre.) To be sure, John Weitz was a fashion designer who more than lived up to the executive image as personified in his sharp as a tack, and tailored clothes. As a bonus, he was as handsome and stylish as the clothes he designed. He was so attractive and iconic himself, that I am surprised the US Postal Department has not issued a stamp with his image. It certainly will improve sales! 

If you imagine James Bond as a fashion designer, and a part-time world-class spy posing as a worldly executive with an affinity for cats, then you can imagine John Weitz, but you do not have to imagine him, for he was not the stuff of legend, for he was quite real.

Weitz was born Hans Werner Weitz in Berlin in 1923. His father, Robert Salomon "Bobby" Weitz, had been a Warrant Officer in the Third Prussian Guards, an officious position to be sure, who took shrapnel on the Russian front, and was therefore awarded the highest military honor, the Iron Cross. His father was an ambitious, driven, and successful textile manufacturer; he too was also a handsome, charismatic man and, with his equally glamorous wife, Hedy, frequented the avant-garde cabaret and club scene of Weimar Germany. They like many young people in the Weimar years they delighted in the fashion, frivolity and intellectual and artistic pursuits. They counted Marlene Dietrich and Christopher Isherwood as intimate friends, who would periodically drop by for tea in the afternoon, lolling around and gossiping into the early evening. If you have ever seen “Cabaret” you will get a glimpse into the world as it then existed for the Weitz’. The well-heeled Weitz family divided their time between their home in Berlin, a country house in Kladow-Glienicke, wintered in St. Moritz, or Lake Como, and took long holidays on the French and Italian Riviera. It was an altogether sublime time for the wealthy, but the times were changing in unpredictable and unfathomable ways. The Weitz' were too well aware of the rising tide of Anti-Semitism, and the virulent Nazi Party, but like many citizens considered themselves “good German’s” i.e., law abiding, fiercely nationalistic, and hoped to remain unscathed.  Little did they know, the world was about to collapse.

Typical of the times, young Hans (John) was sent off to a proper boarding school in 1936, to be educated in England, at the Hall Preparatory School in Hampstead, North London, and then St. Paul's School. It is said that the erudite Weitz even in the dregs of an English schoolboy’s uniform could cut a rakish figure. (I will review Rupert Graves in Maurice this evening and judge for myself.) While at St. Paul's, his classmate, John Russell, the future art critic, was told that Weitz might improve his grades if he paid less attention to the cut of his collar, and more to French declension. Great advice from an academic, but wasted on the artistic. Traveling in whirling social circles, Weitz had the opportunity to study the fashionable Duke of Windsor (in person) and I presume took copious notes. Already Weitz was a described as a “continental flâneur“, who had begun an apprenticeship as a youth with the noted women's tailor, Captain Edward Molyneaux. During his time in England, even progressive private schools in England (if not nearly everywhere) were not always amenable or hospitable to their Jewish students, who despite the trappings of wealth were often dismissed as secondly class citizens, and something that the upper class had to tolerate like brussel sprouts or cauliflower. Whatever his taste of anti-Semitism in England, Weitz excelled at football (soccer for us Americans) while at school, and excelled at academics. In later years, Weitz remained strongly attached to England, and was elected at his alma-mata, as an alumni, as Vice-President of the Old Pauline Club of London (which may sound prissy, but is anything but), which is an honor not usually bestowed on non-native British, but I digress…

While ensconced in his studies and fashion forays in England, by contrast, the Weitz family had been socially reduced, and reluctantly forced to admit that as Jews they would have to leave their beloved Germany post haste, an exile that broke the heart of Weitz’ deeply Teutonic father. Regardless with little other options before then, the Weitz family made plans to immigrate to America in 1938, just before “Kristallnacht” (the Night of Broken Glass) and the horrendous onslaught of pogroms would have certainly claimed all their lives. The situation in Germany for any remaining Jews was bleak. John was only fifteen, but practically an emancipated young man. The young Mr. Weitz was required to spend a year by himself as a teenager in Shanghai awaiting an American Visa. Through a technicality, the young Mr. Weitz was classified as “an enemy alien” based solely on his German birth. Can you image what today’s youth might do if left to their own devices for a year in Shanghai? The mind reels!

Rejoining his family in New York, he was immediately put to work for Voice of America, due to his knowledge of German, French, Italian and English. At the beginning of the war, John Weitz who had only just emigrated to the United States, and in a few short years, in 1944, at the age of twenty-one, (let me put this in perspective, for my younger readers, he was the approximate age of Taylor Swift, Daniel Radcliffe and Jordan Sparks) was recruited by the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), the forerunner of the CIA, for his intelligence, ability to speak several languages, and insight into the world situation. For many years, Weitz would only ever describe his work during the war, as "sensitive,” though, much later, his publisher John Fairchild, told the New York Times that Weitz "…loved all that romantic part of his past. He was a perfect gentleman, and could talk for hours and hours and hours, a lot about himself, which is part of his charm.''

Hail the concurring hero, Weitz returned after the war to New York in the 1940's. He was a young garment trader, (which is practically antediluvian by today’s standards), and a smart fashion forecaster, who anticipated that women wanted to break away from the rigid fashion and social template set by their mothers generation. Weitz’ sophisticated and developed eye for style was well placed to pick up on American women's new taste for informal sportswear, leather coats, and men's shirts. America was still a major fashion manufacturer and Weitz wanted in on the industry. 

With a keen finger on the pulse of America, and the new fashion sensibility in active wear, and the new ease of knits, socks, and sweaters became a house specialty. One might not equate socks as being a fashion item per say, or an item to build a career upon. To them I say please recall that Ralph Lauren started by selling ties out of a brief case, and Tommy Hilfiger started out by selling underwear off a billboard in Times Square. John Weitz was a talented socks manufacturer. He designed some of the best men’s socks in 20th century America; he knew exactly which socks could be worn when, and where. He understood the social and economic history of the sock, and he himself wore extremely beautiful socks with total panache. Think that’s silly, that it can’t be done, wear a pair of royal purple socks with a great suit and see what it is that people notice, and comment on. Despite what drooling marketers will tell you, Paul Smith was not the first designer to introduce colorful striped socks to the world.

I pity you young people who do not realize that not so long ago John Weitz was as common a household name as McDonald’s or H & M is today.

'' A designer's name lives after him, Christian Dior has been dead for 30 years, and he still makes more money than I do, my presence is not exactly necessary.” John Weitz

Weitz had many big breaks and many firsts, but Weitz ultimately made his fortune himself, that being said, he was first encouraged by Dorothy Shaver, first female CEO of Lord & Taylor in the 1940’s. Weitz was a natural for the smart Lord & Taylor monolith, who was also positioned to pursue women's sportswear, with their astute sense of the contemporary postwar lifestyle. It was a marriage made in heaven, by way of 7th Avenue. 

   

With Lord & Taylor in his back pocket, Weitz obtains a taste of success in the era of Sloan Wilson, (Man In The Grey Flannel Suit) where we founds John Weitz Designs Inc. in 1954, producing mostly women’s wear, active separates. A market already fully saturated. In an effort to distinguish himself and establish his fashion voice, ten years later he switched to menswear, which was his real forte, and built his fortune initially creating on smart sports clothes imbued with a Nabokovian nostalgia for his lost Riviera youth. Weitz designed everything imaginable for the well-dressed man, sports jackets, belt-less slacks, velvet penny loafers, silk scarves, and captured a very American sort of casual elegance based on a Mediterranean playboy fantasia. It was affordable fashion for the American consumer who aspired to look like Cary Grant on a department store budget.

Many of us tend to think of the 1950’s as little more than poodle skirts and biker jackets as presented in the film Grease or TV series Happy Days, those of us a bit older add to the black and white Orhbach’s bland uniforms worn on Donna Reed and Father Knows Best. We dismiss the period as a transitional time that bridges the post war, Dior “New Look”, and the “Mod” look of the 1960’s, but in reality, a lot was going on in the 1950’s, and more than meets that eye. Weitz is a wonderful example of great taste and sophistication, and places his signature on that period.

John Weitz had something that barely exists today…élan! (look it up).

In 1964, Weitz launched his menswear range, applying the technical standards of manufacture he had learned from his father a generation before. Unusually, in that era of obsolescence, when the garment industry was still producing old-fashioned fuddy-duddy clothes he went for ease and wearability.

“Clothes”, should be worn as if they are old and valued friends".  John Weitz

Unfortunately, that kind of smart sentiment went in one ear of manufacturers and out the other. Luckily, it resonated with consumers who got him immediately! So much so that with financial security assured, Weitz until his retirement maintained his corporate offices on Madison Avenue where he directed his modest multi million-dollar empire, ala Don Draper. He was apart of the nouveau riche, he was the American dream. He was envied by his colleagues. John Weitz was a perfect storm and come to menswear at the perfect time with the perfect understanding on the temper of the times.

Anticipating what was to come was a bailiwick of Weitz’. If Weitz was first a visionary of the disciplines of sportswear for women in America, he transferred his allegiance to menswear in the early 1960's, a time when a number of designers were also testing the waters of menswear, among them Geoffrey Beene and Bill Blass in America, Hardy Amies in England, and Pierre Cardin in France. Weitz alone gave his primary attention to menswear, giving up the women’s market for all intents and purposes. Long before absorbing and ultimately creating the ethos of sportswear. Alas, despite his influence, he did not receive the lion share of credit, richly due him.

 

His taste for fast fashion was well served by his passion for collecting vintage sports cars and racing. This passion in turn attracted a younger consumer who epitomized more James Dean and Steve McQueen in their styling and lifestyle. Starting back in 1954, Weitz was a regular at all the racing tracks, a serious competitor, not a dilettante; he raced at the Bahamas Grand Prix Circuit, and at the fabled Sebring in Florida, calling this addiction to speed… “the affliction of all European boys of my generation. I drove Morgans, Bristols. It was a fashionable, poloesque sport that's now gone”. Weitz certainly looked the part, to wit, in 1958; he published a guide, Sports Clothes for Your Sports Car, filled with photographs that could grace any fashion magazine today. He elaborates… “To those who like the way a sports car looks and sounds, why deny a little vanity? Why hide the urge to be different. The clothes you wear while motor racing should please the eye. After all, race driving is not exactly the sport of the shrinking violet. It is a sport full of dash and daring and personal display”. (Oh be still my heart)

Weitz demonstrates all his style sense here, recommending Lacoste shirts, then unknown in America, (which I might add looked terrific on him) and his favorite all-cashmere socks (an indulgence in the pragmatic 1950’s) that he describes as “actually keeps your feet dry and cool”. A photograph of the author at the wheel of his works Morgan at Sebring '56, wearing his fabled black turtleneck, is accompanied by heroic tales of the track, whether battling Stirling Moss's Maserati while driving a little Arnolt Bristol, or several hard bounces and prangs, not least during his 145 laps in a Morgan Plus 4 at the 1955 Sebring. The patrician fantasy past Weitz so relished was as overt in his racing outfits, as his prose,” In my English schooldays it was the snappy thing to go to formal events in sports cars, wearing a white tie, topper and all, and there was something really young and rakish and debonair about it.” There is no debate, Weitz was a glamour boy, and could give today’s Christiano Rinaldo or Narcisco Rodriguez a serious run for their money. 

  

Weitz pragmatically retired from racing, after all, even mere mortals can only dodge a bullet so many times, and eventually sold his car collection, albeit keeping his 1967 Jaguar and a Ferrari Testarossa capable of hitting 180 mile per  hour. (Now that is fast, even for today. I once was in a car that did 80, and I got so nauseous, we had to pull over).The fastidious Weitz said he sold off his vintage car collection because they dripped too much oil. He says his retirement from the track was prompted by the booming success of his company. Thus, the iconic 1960’s Weitz silk scarves may be collectable vintage fashion items, but the bulk of his business was based on marketing licensed items like umbrellas, cologne, sunglasses, ties, watches, blazers, even cigars, as fashion items, accessories, not to mention his perennial classic socks, the John Weitz Classic Men's Sock 12-pack. It is said that Weitz changed his socks more each day often than Henry the Eighth changed wives during his reign. 

Is it possible that Weitz was the progenitor of lifestyle branding long before Ralph Lauren is credited for it? Fuelled by advertising campaigns featuring the dashing six foot, two inch Weitz himself, and then a famous series of cryptic photo-less posters with nothing, but teasing snippets of conversation, Weitz became a celebrity, he, himself became a brand product. Weitz was one of, if not the first fashion designer, whose personal image supplanted his product in recognition among the public. After all, if I showed you a picture of Christian Dior or Cristobel Balenciaga would you know the difference. 

Indeed, in summary, Weitz became to embody the ideals of the post war generation, flirting with danger, taking calculated risks, excelling at athletics, directing men, building personal empires, embracing speed and automotives, incorporating sexual prowess, creating a personal manifest destiny while relaxing in European aplomb

The story continues in a day or two, so please return for part two of “A Primer On John Weitz.

 
 

Tomorrow Is Only A Day Away

I'm steamed. I’m so steamed you could sell me as a side order of broccoli rabe. It was announced yesterday that Sarah Jessica Parker will be joining the fashion company, Halston, as its new Creative Director/President (TBD). Halston will leave those pesky details until another time.

Okay, I’ll admit it, I saw Parker on Broadway in 1978-79 when she was the third (and frankly, not the best) Annie. Okay’, I’ll admit it; I’ve seen most of her TV and film work, including the appalling (and recent) “Did You Hear About The Morgan’s?” where she had to act opposite the 6’ foot Hugh Grant, and an 8’ foot grizzly bear. I don’t want to be a plot spoiler, but the grizzly bear seemed more interested in what was going on than Mr. Grant. Okay, I’ll admit it, her role as Carrie Bradshaw assures her a place in the pantheon of the fashion firmament, but wearing designer clothes and making them are two different things. Note to actress’ world wide…Audrey Hepburn looked great in Givenchy; she didn’t feel the need to design for Hubert. And last, but not leastly, I’ll admit it, I was a big fan of Ms. Parkers fashion line “Bitten”, prior to Steve & Barry’s going belly up, but I knew they couldn’t sell those dresses for 20.00 and still turn a profit.

Is this just publicity? In fact, Halston is simply casting Ms. Parker as its co-star for its newly announced “Halston Heritage Collection”, its brand extension, with discounted retail prices ranging from $55.00 to $595.00, so I should get so worked up, right? Personally, I smell something rotten in Hollywood, is that not Carrie Bradshaw being shown in the trailer for "Sex and the City 2" in a white dress from Halston Heritage Collection? That was shot last summer? Here’s the down low, Halston is, owned by Hollywood bigwigs Harvey and Bob Weinstein. (Who produced SATC) but lest I be accused of being jaded, perhaps it is just a coincidence.

Here’s a big surprise…In the classic style of a used car salesman’s technique, this looks like the classic bait and switch maneuver, Marios Schwab will remain as the designer for the main line, which has a slot on the calendar at New York Fashion Week in February. Well what do you know, will wonders never cease?

Roy Halston despite a cameo appearance on “The Love Boat” did not feel the need to act. There were no film projects, no “other commitments”. Here’s a novel idea, why don’t fashion companies hire designers to design, creative director to be creative, and company presidents to preside over business. If you can’t act and crew gum, stay out of fashion, there’s enough cruddy design out there by the professionals! But let’s get real, while Ms. Parker may wear designer clothing well, indeed she is quite attractive, while she may have an eye, she can’t sew, she can’t design, and it’s unlikely she is up to the rigors of running a multi-million dollar company. She’s no Joan Crawford at PepsiCo. and she had been to the rodeo boys!

With the working mom's other commitments, namely three little kids, and a busy movie career, will Ms Parker (and husband, Matthew Broderick) even have time to be involved with redeveloping the Halston line. In recent interviews, Parker has admitted that she shouldn't have gone back to work so soon after a surrogate gave birth to her twin daughters, Marion  and Tabitha, now 7 months old. "It's been amazing, but complicated because of my current work schedule, which I have enormous regrets about," she told Glamour Magazine about being a mom, while shooting "Sex And The City 2" last month. If you’re conflicted Sarah, and you need to pop on over to Halston with your sketch pad and fabric swatches. I know a great nanny looking for work.

PS: Tell me if I'm wrong, but that isn't Sarah Jessica Parker in the SATC2  poster, is it? 

 

Everything You Wanted to Know About Shopping (But Were Afraid To Ask)

 

In 1969, Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex (But Were Afraid to Ask) by Dr. David Reuben, was one of those books that my parents hide under the mattress, but that I could secretly linger at in the South Orange Public Library, as long as the librarian didn’t shoo me away. Regardless, it was one of the most successful books on the NY Times Best Sellers List, and sold over 150 million copies  It was even made into a film by Woody Allen. (Although I don’t recollect a chapter on marrying your step-daughter.) 
 
To me shopping is like sex. There is good shopping, and not good shopping. Shopping can be recreational, entertaining, a chore or marital obligation. Rest assured, sometimes even I don’t want to shop…I really do have a headache. Still, I think of myself as a part of the shopping revolution. I have a healthy shopping libido. 
 
I know you can’t judge a store by its size (even if your name is Bed, Bath & Beyond or Office Max). Still, I think that I’d rather test out a new department store than some dinky specialty retailer. Those are just the fact’s call me old fashioned. 
 
I’ll admit it. I am not a monogamous shopper, I shop around, but I don’t have a bad reputation, and I invariably come back to my devoted and dedicated, you know who you are. After all it’s not like we’re engaged, or I have one of your charge cards.
 
I firmly believe in safe shopping, that is, not heading into Saks Fifth Avenue with a credit card, otherwise you maybe come out with a shopping transmitted disease like Nordsromitis or Bergdorf Goodman’s Ailment. There is no anti-biotic or treatment on the market for that yet. But don’t use me, I don’t want to get shopped! While I’ve never engaged in retail prostitution, I know that Forever 21 fulfills a need for shopaholics, and I won’t judge, I just wish they would make it legal.
 
Yes, we all love a pretty boy or a sexy girl, but mannequins are only skin deep. Still, I’ll confide, those well dressed windows at Dolce & Gabanna does get me going. That’s why I believe that aphrodisiacs really work, providing they are 50% off sales signs, and shopping incentives, if you are a preferred shopping, which I usually am. 
 
I’ll let scientists and feminists debate if there really is a “G” spot. All I know is that something does come over you, a flushed, faint feeling when you try on a pair of jeans, and they fit just right. I mean I nearly fainted once in Diesel when the new washes came in. I may not have done a Meg Ryan, but oh my God! OH MY GOD, YES, YES!!! I’ll have a pair of those.

 

The Buried Life

I don’t know much about “The Buried Life” which is premiering on MTV, this Monday, January 18th,  but I do know about its relevance to the state of retail, technology, the economy, and how to successfully engage customers.

The last time I saw MTV Madonna was still wearing black crinolines and rubber gaskets as an accessory item, Spandau Ballet was considered hip… “This love is truuue…ooh”, and I couldn’t understand why my barber couldn’t get my hair just like Mike Score’s in A Flock of Seagulls. A lot has changed since then, in fact, apparently, unbeknownst to me; MTV (Music Television Videos) no longer shows music videos. What? Well, that was news to me. It is showing this new reality series, “The Buried Life”.

I'm not a big fan of reality TV, but this may become an exception. "The Buried Life" dares to ask the question "If you had one day left to live what would you do? Then they dare to go further. Now if you had your whole life to live, would you lose that drive, or would your list just keep getting longer? MTV has cast four very cute guys, Duncan, Ben, Jonnie  & Dave (not Davy Jones) sort of like "The Monkees" and set them out on a bus, sort of like "The Simple Life". to prove that anyone can do anything. With cameras rolling, the quartet set out with a list of 100 dreams: everything from kissing Megan Fox,  to giving a toast at a stranger's wedding to giving away a million dollars, to falling in love. But here's the catch (there's always a catch), they also make a promise to themselves, for every goal they achieve on their list, they help a stranger do something on theirs. Note to produces, my office door is always open!

To promote the series, MTV has skinned the former edifice of a Circuit City, (went out of business) which was a former First National Bank, (now closed) and former Lefcort National Building with vinyl adhesive. The four-story façade is clad as if were shrink wrapped tighter than a CD. Last night, despite the weather, 28 degrees, 14 degrees with the wind chill factor, there was an amazing throng (22) people intently congregated in front of the former retailer’s windows. Strangers on their way home stopped in their tracks, they were laughing, snapping photos, and goading one another. I hadn’t seen that much commotion and conviviality since New Years Eve in Times Square.

“The Buried Life‘s” window presentation has two interactive computer screens, one with a keypad where you can enter what you secretly want to do before your die, a provocative question if ever there was one, and a second screen with a running scroll with everyone’s answer. Some of the responses were sincere, others were salacious, sentimental, sexy or sickening. All of the answers elicited all sorts of responses from passers-by. It was a profound communal experience. I have to give it to MTV you currently have the best windows on Fifth Avenue.

Sampling of responses…
Andy: Get drunk with my boss and photograph her in a compromising position
Teisha: Go to Tibet and study Buddhism
Matt2: Live long enough to see my two year old get married
Kylie: Learn French and move to Paris
John: Get out of debt, get a job
Jan: Tell my husband I have breast cancer
Sven: See the Mona Lisa
Rachel Z: Meet Mr. Right

The interactive windows were an insightful sampling of our collective conscience, and brilliantly executed. I had a moment of revelation. Real people with real lives inhabit our world. We're not just strangers on the street. I thought to myself, why don't more retailers use this kind of technology. Instead of using windows to communicate with your customers, let your customers communicate with you. Ask a provocative question like… “What do you really think of us? Did you find what you were looking for? How can we become a better store? What's on your mind today?"

I would watch "The Buried Life" if someone will just tell me what channel MTV is on these days.

PS: To Mike, the cutie who entered his response at 7:15, you may have been tying to be glib, but I would be happy to make your wish come true.

 
 

To Be Young, Gifted And...Fashionable

It usually isn’t news when a manufacturer installs a PVC billboard in New York's Times Square, unless your name is The Weatherproof Garment Company, or more to the point, Barack Obama, US President, Nobel recipient for peace, and noble leader of the free world. 

Walking by 41st Street I was taken aback to see our fashionable President as the new Weatherpoof Garment Company‘s spokesperson looking rather comely. Not since John Kennedy mentioned that his suits were from Brooks Brothers has a sitting President endorsed a product. 

According to The New York Times, the image is licensed by The Associated Press, and was taken during the President’s visit to the Great Wall of China last November by Charles Dharapak. Weatherproof’s President, Freddie Stollmack said he recognized the windbreaker after he saw a photograph of the Presidential visit and ordered a high-resolution photograph for confirmation. “With a magnifying glass, we saw our logo and zipper pull, and we said, ‘That’s our coat!” Mr. Stollmack said. Weatherproof also put the image of President Obama in their windbreaker on its websites home page (for a time) on Wednesday, promoting it as “The Obama Jacket.” The company issued a press release in December praising Mr. Obama’s choice of coats, when it first came across the image. "Previous Presidents visiting the Great Wall were always wearing dreary, long coats. Very funereal," said Stollmack.

Like Queen Victoria, the White House is not amused. This raises issues of who owns an image, does your likeness always belong to you, or the photographer, and do they have the right to profit from it. 

Weatherproof is known for publicity stunts. It has a history of attention grabbing ploys, which suggest the company may be seeking controversy. In 2008, Weatherproof issued a press release saying that it would run the shortest television commercial ever during the Super Bowl, at two seconds, and a cost of 1.5 million dollars, making it the most expensive commercial ever made. This generated a huge viral buzz for the company. Later the same day, Weatherproof issued an update saying that, unfortunately, it had just learned that two-second Super Bowl slots were unavailable. Also in 2008, Weatherproof tried to wrap the guitar-playing sexually suggestive Naked Cowboy, a street performer familiar to New York City tourists in one of its coats.

Clearly, the President Obama ad is being used as a publicity stunt by Weatherproof to expand awareness of the brand beyond the single billboard by creating controversy, and guess what; it’s working, although Dov Cherney and Woody Allen might disagree.  Apparently, the company had also tried to run the Obama ads in The New York Times, The New York Post and Women’s Wear Daily with the image, but were summarily turned down by the publications. They knew something that Times Square did not regarding permission and rights. Paul Colford, a spokesperson for The A.P., said that Weatherproof had paid it the appropriate license fee for the billboard image, “but the agreement is that it requires the licensing party, in this case the Weatherproof Garment Company, to obtain the necessary clearances… that is their obligation.” Where is Don Draper when you need him? The billboard is due to remain in place through February, despite the White’s House’s admonition. 

Stollmack added. "There's buzz we should take the billboard down. I hope that's not the case. Obviously, we don't want to alienate the White House. We did this in good faith, (Oh, come on! Really?) and generally stay out of the political arena, but no one can argue the fact that we have a stylish President," 

The truth is the lion will lay down with the lamb before the Obama Administration will approve the use of the image, despite the fact that the President looks so... well, Presidential in the billboard. Mr. Obama now looms over Times Square in rugged black jacket, framed by a blue sky and emblazoned with the mottos "A Leader in Style" and "Weatherproof." America has a very fashionable first family. Barack Obama could give those cute guys in the Dolce & Gabanna ads across the street a run for their money. 

The White House is expected to contact the company and ask (read: tell) Weatherproof to take the billboard down. A White House Aide said, “This ad is clearly misleading because the company suggests the approval or endorsement of the President or the White House that it does not have.” Another White House Spokesman, Ben LaBolt, said in an e-mail message,” The White House has a longstanding policy disapproving of the use of the President’s name, and likeness for commercial purposes.”

Mr. Stollmack acknowledged the company had not even tried to gain approval from the White House. Asked whether he was taking a risk, he said, “Is it a calculated risk? Not being an attorney… I’m being, really, a designer, merchandiser guy in the apparel business… I would leave that to the attorneys or whatever. We’re not saying President Obama endorses Weatherproof apparel.” He added, “If we were to get a letter or a call from the White House saying they didn’t approve of it, or they didn’t like it, or whatever, or they see it as an ad, we’ll do whatever we have to do. We’re not looking to alienate the White House.” Stollmack seems to be of the PT Barnum school of advertising.

If, and when it does come down, it will become a piece of advertising history, albeit a footnote. I would suggest that Weatherproof do what Target and Anna Sui did, turn the PVC vinyl into one of a kind tote bags for resale. In the interim, while I love the image, it doesn’t engender good will for the company. It’s commercial profiteering. Yuck!

Those poor White House staffers must be running from pillar to post, forget the situation in the Middle East, managing two wars, terrorism, the economy, the Salahi’s, and global climate changes, there was another fire to put out this week in the Obama household. 

First Lady Michelle Obama’s image was used without permission in the new PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) advertising campaign. The First Lady appears in the poorly digitized ad dressed in a svelte black dress and pearls, and flanked by Oprah Winfrey, Carrie Underwood and Tyra Banks, all presumably fur free through the wonders of photo-doctoring software. 

In this instance the White House immediately contacted PETA after it started running the anti-fur ad last week that features Michelle Obama, standing just behind Oprah in prominence. I bet the White House loved that! Poor Michelle looks like she’s trying to squeeze in between a group of the cool kids in high school, and I half expect Carrie Underwood to be giving her devil ears behind her back. Semonti M. Stephens, a spokeswoman for Mrs. Obama, said her office had not consented to “that ad“, said the way (I presume) that some women refer to “that woman“. The White House declined to comment on whether the matter had been resolved. "What I can say is that we did not consent to this," said Ms. Stephens.

How times have changed…I remember with fondness those beautiful ads with Marlene Dietrich, Bette Davis, Claudette Cobert and Judy Garland for Blackglama mink, “What becomes a Legend Most?” 

Mrs. Obama, meanwhile, is "Fur Free and Fabulous," at least according to the campaign that includes placement in national magazines, the NYC subway system and the organization's website. "Our new banners feature a bevy of the smartest, most stylish, and most influential women in America," said PETA blogger Karin Bennett, who adds that Mrs. Obama's own press office indicated that the first lady was not a fur fan months ago. "PETA makes sure everyone knows that fur is creepy, cold and cruel," Ms. Bennett says.

Personally, PETA has nothing to fear from the White House, but I would not mess with the other First Lady…O…prah. 

 

Male Cleavage

If everyone is talking about it, I presume it is of interest, hence recent articles in the liberal New York Times to the staid Wall Street Journal, and even conservative Christian Science Monitor. No, the topic was not global warming, nuclear disarmament or the situation in the Middle East, it something that more important…male cleavage.

Dismissal by Name Calling

Fashion critics dismiss male cleavage as a fad, and call it “dude décolletage“, “heavage” and “The Bear-mudua Triangle”, but the look doesn’t appear to be dissipating, Nothing happens in fashion without reason, well seldom nothing, there has never been an adequate explanation for knickers or acid wash jeans.

The Forensic Trail

The origin of the word “cleavage” dates back to 1816, when propriety and painting came into conflict over the appropriateness of portraitures of women in décolleté gowns was raised by an easily scandalized public. The term did not really catch on, or come into common usage until 1946, when it was defined in a Time Magazine article as the Johnston Office trade term for “the shadowed depression dividing an actress' bosom into two distinct sections". At the time, Hollywood was producing Restoration dramas like the notorious “Forever Amber”, and the western, “The Outlaw“. The rigidly enforced Hayes Code tended to allow more female breast to show in historical dramas, than its contemporary films. These films were known as “taste with tits“.

At a menswear show in Milan last year, Miuccia Prada sent young male models down the runway clad in unbuttoned shirts, and deep V-necks that would make Linda Darnell or Jane Russell blush. "Fragility and power" is how the designer reportedly summed up the look of these waif like boys with exposed cleavage. (Note to readers: all models had shaved chests, not a follicle was found on the catwalks), the sensuous look dominated the show. Even if these revealing clothes seemed a little disserting at the time, their impact was soon felt elsewhere. Where Prada goes, angels follow. At recent menswear shows this year the message was clear, men's collars are plunging deeper than Tom Ford’s, in his advertisements, and the focus is being directed to exposed chests.

While Prada lads may have lacked manliness, the Italian designer duo Dolce & Gabbana, known for the extroverted sexuality of their designs, concretized the Latin male image when they sent scruffy Brazilian model, Jesus Luz, aka Madonna's boyfriend, onto the runway clad in a black dress shirt, with all but the bottom two buttons undone, and shoved into a tiny (did I saw tiny) black bathing suit. I pray the lucky stylist that got that plum assignment.

A different, more theatrical, version was unveiled in Paris, when a battalion of bare-chested warriors appeared in John Galliano's Orientalist fantasy, ala Edmund Dulac, in the style of "A Thousand and One Nights." A generic string of overly primped, golden-bronze tanned men, evidently kissed by the blazing sun of the Arabian deserts, if not a tanning booth, with iconic Daliish thin black mustache drawn on their faces, looking like Omar Sharif stand-in on a bad day during the filming “Lawrence of Arabia”. The collection looked like the buttons did not arrive from Taiwan in time to be sewn onto the shirts.

 

The American market tends to follow suit, a rather surprising turn during New York Fashion Week this past September, where glimpses of men's chests could be seen through unbuttoned dress shirts, and deep V-neck introduced by Michael Bastian, (yes, American Apparel ripped him off but good, but at 22.00, you cannot beat it.) Duckie Brown and Yigal Azrouel, among others. Unlike those delicate European boys, the models wearing the exposing tops strode down the runways with a distinctly manly strut. Bastian said afterward that he drew his inspiration from the clothing worn by Latin men. "We wanted to go back to a more natural body, a more '70s body with the models, getting away from the super skinny," he told The Wall Street Journal's, Ray Smith.

Biology Has It’s Say

The un-comfort around male cleavage has more to do with the nipple than with what called “good taste”. An age-old question asks why males have nipples if they cannot breast feed. Nor need to, what pray tell is the physical necessity. For centuries, it was a physiological conundrum, only recently figured out by scientists. After conception, and during fetal development the gender or sex of the child is not set for several weeks, oh granted, it may be predetermined by chromosomes already, but is not genetically assigned for some time, in fact, technically, we all start our lives technically, as females and the male hormonal DNA genetic strand arrive closer to the third or six week after conception.

Popular Cultural Has It’s Say

Male cleavage is cyclical. Male décolletage long played a crucial role in popular culture, especially on the silver screen. Douglas Fairbanks Sr. had his chest on display throughout the 1920’s, in films like, “The Thief of Baghdad”, and “The Iron Mask”. A dashing Errol Flynn showed man cleavage in the 1930’s, most memorably in "The Adventures of Robin Hood." You can even throw in Stuart Granger in “Scarmouche”. These actors made skin flashing practically de rigueur for certain swashbuckling roles. The aesthetic continued well into the 1950’s and the 1960’s, but they seldom crossed off the screen, and onto the street. Among those better celebrated for their cleavage during that time were Marlon Brando, in the 1951 film version of "A Streetcar Named Desire" ripping his sweaty tee, to expose his soul (metaphor) and nipples, and Sean Connery, as James Bond in the 1960’s. One of my favorite male cleavage references is Shirtless!: A Hollywood Male Physique by Donald Reuter (note to readers, Donald is a colleague, and someone I just adore and admire! Please visit his books for sale on www.amazon.com . Certainly, beefcake magazines the emergence of “Tom of Finland” helped to make cleavage a prominent look, but one too closely associated with the Gay community to be universally accepted.

Bear Skin Versus Bear Skin

 

The last time the male cleavage look was popular in the United States was the 1970s, "the golden age of male chest hair," as fashion historian Robert Bryan, author of the book American Fashion Menswear (Assouline Publishing, 2009) puts it. The convention in those years was to leave the top shirt buttons undone to reveal a hairy chest, sometimes adorned by gold medallions as a symbol of virility. The 1970’s saw a rediscovery of the male body, which took the dual forms of exposing skin, and an increased preoccupation with long hair, long sideburns, thick mustaches and beards. Aside from exposing their upper bodies, men in those years wore clothes that were very tight, and fairly revealing, and emphasized the outlines of the male body. Think John Travolta hirsute look in Saturday Night Fever, a look that millions of young men imitated, and a persona that many men aspired to inhabit. I will not say that I bought Andy Gibb’s albums as a youth because his rayon shirt was unbuttoned, but it certainly did not defer me from a sale. You might reason that Tom Sellack’s cleavage on TV’s Magnum PI (1980-‘88) was a popular role model, primarily for his exposed chest.

In next month's edition of Men's Journal, actor, Alec Baldwin appears on the cover with the top button of his shirt left undone. The magazine's editor, Brad Wieners, said that the actor chose to undo his shirt button for the shoot to reveal some hair. "He's not Burt Reynolds," (to say the least) to the editor told The Wall Street Journal, "but he's letting you know he's got a chest." Indeed, I saw him nearly fully exposed in the recent film, It’s Complicated. Poor Meryl, I want her to shake off those beautiful bedspreads after they had sex. Alas, I was hoping that like Steve Carell in The 40 Year Old Virgin he might be subject to a Brazilian waxing.

To be(ard) or not to be(ard)!

It's not just cleavage, men today are tiring of the shaven, well-cropped look of the past twenty-five years. In today’s grooming culture of the metrosexual, many men want to show more skin, and of course display the muscles they work so hard to build at the gym. The comeback of this look reflects growing popularity of male body hair, as a kind of physical embodiment for virility, (read: Sampson complex) many men now feel comfortable with a hirsute look. Sales of Propecia remain strong. The new hairy chested man is an anomaly, and at least stands out from the pack of pubescent looking boys. Reflecting what may be going on in the culture, one thing is certain, fashion holds up a mirror to a particular moment, if so, then male cleavage conveys a clear message for the post-recession era: now, when the end of the global economic crisis is visibly on the horizon, you can stretch a bit, undo the top buttons of your shirt, and take a deep breath.

Male cleavage is not a new phenomenon, it part of a continuum. It simply took years for the fad to go more mainstream. Helping to pave the way were magazines like Men's Journal and Men's Health, which objectified the male torso on their covers. Marketers such as Abercrombie & Fitch attracted droves of fans with their buff, waxed male models. For those who do not have the goods naturally, cosmetic surgery offers an increasingly popular solution. The American Society of Plastic Surgeons reports that pectoral implants more than tripled in 2008, to 1,335 procedures up from 440 in 2007. To illustrate the mainstream popularity of male cleavage take a look at Disney’s, Prince Eric, from The Little Mermaid. Male cleavage can be found in the popular Mafia Wars and other virtual reality games being played obsessively my millions of fans.

 

  

 

Man cleavage is apparently in right now. Alexander Skarsgard reveals his on True Blood. He is not the only believer in popping a few buttons. Also on HBO's hit series True Blood, is 29-year-old ex-model Mehcad Brooks, who rarely went an episode without removing his shirt. Mr. Brooks also frequently displays his perfect pecs off-screen, wearing rib-hugging tees with deep V-necks or shirts with the top buttons suggestively undone. "Even if people were making fun of me, calling me 'Miami Vice' like they used to in college, I would still wear it," says the 6-foot-4, 215-pound actor. "It feels comfortable and I like the way it looks. If you can pull off three buttons undone, then do it." . Twilight stars Robert Pattinson and Taylor Laughton can give True Blood a run for it’s money, other fans of the look include actors Jude Law and Ed Westwick, who've been snapped showing off their man cleavage. Add to that list David Beckham, Joey Lawrence, Nicolas Sarcozy, Tim McGraw, Ryan Reynolds, Jeff Probst, Vin Diesel, Hugh Jackman, Simon Cowell, Carter Oosterhouse and Ashton Kutcher, a diverse group of men who do not it seems know how to tie a tie, still no one is complaining.

Although I Never Knew You

On Tuesday, December 22, 2009, Anthony “Tony“ Perrett passed away from what was described as “a courageous battle against cancer”, as per a diminutive obituary in the Star Tribune, TX. The paper maintains an online guestbook for visitors to send condolences, share stories, and photos. I see it was deactivated on January 3^rd, only eleven days after his death, one day short of the 12 Days of Christmas. Mr. Perrett was only 50 years old, and I regret to say missed the holidays, and all our mindless merriment, the pleasure of opening gifts wrapped in novelty printed paper, the flickering lights on the tree in Rockefeller Center, carols piped into the supermarket and elevator, the warmth of friends and champagne, the pretence of resolutions, and even the fierce winter storm that blanketed New York City.

Mr. Perrett was born in Texas, so I am told, and did attend The University of Texas at Arlington. I know he worked in New York City for most of his adult life. I imagine that like so many people, myself included, that New York was his adopted home, a place to reinvent himself.

Our paths never crossed despite his robust resume, Mr. Perrett was a Senior Account Executive, at Manex/France Display, Account Executive, at LOOK (now defunct). He worked for Bombay & Co. (now defunct), and for Christine Taylor. I understand that there are seven degrees of separation between us, I accessed Mr. Perrett’s profile on www.linkedin.com, he had 32 connections, and I recognized almost everyone’s name, Yet Tony Perrett was a man I never knew.

I reasoned it would be easy to reconstruct the life of someone so integrated in the industry; it was not. I presume that I could hunt down the salient details of his life online; I could not. I visited the websites of the numerous companies he worked at; there was no mention of his passing. It seems as if few people knew him, or remembered him. That it say with the notable exception one dear friend, Kathy Flanagan, of Manex/France Display. Kathy told me that his death was relatively sudden, and sort of a surprise. While everyone was shocked and dismayed, it seemed that most of his colleagues were busy with this and that, what we sometimes call “the hustle and bustle of the season“, our perennial excuse to not participate. It seemed like everyone was waiting for someone else to do something… to say something.

I am seldom at a loss for words. I wish I could paint a better picture of the man. I could not find an image of Mr. Perrett on linkedin or his facebook, but I see a toothy smile, sad eyes that feign brightness. Although I never knew you Tony Perrett, I will venture to say that you will be missed. I can only imagine that your life touched others, if not mine. I believe that you mattered.

"It is hard to have patience with people who say 'There is no death' or 'death doesn't matter.' There is death, and whatever it is matters. And whatever happens has consequences, and it, and they are irrevocable and irreversible. You might as well say that birth doesn't matter." C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

The Star Tribune mentions that a memorial service is pending. It further reports that he was survived by his brothers, Clay Perrett, of Minneola and Garth Perrett, of Mount Vernon; his sister, Mary Talley, of Alvarado; Ryo Mizuno, of New York City; three nephews; and one niece.

If you knew Tony, and would like to add your remembrance, share your condolences, or correct my assumptions, please feel free to do you. It will be received with appreciation.

 

Do You See What I See? (part two of two)

With so many retailers, and so much great work, please look in my Holiday photo album for additional images of these great stores, and plenty of other stores that I just didn't have had the opportunity to single out.

Juicy Couture: Under The Big Top, Philip Johnson, Corporate Visual Director, and Gunther Guinta, Store Visual Director, always mage to create fun and exciting windows for this great retailer. With a modern day take on a punk like circus, they introduce fabulous props, spot on signage, great costume pieces, and are sensitive to scale (the windows are huge, two stores tall). While I will fault them (at times) with windows that are too busy for me, I will acknowledge that I may be quite wrong. Clearly the public adores these windows, as crowds congregate to see what’s going on. Juicy Couture takes risks; they are adventuresome and continue to create visually stimulating presentations.

 

Lacoste: Crocodiles On Ice, with a icy color palate, and it’s iconic crocodile cast in icy resin and fashioned into a holiday wreath, Lacoste  placed mannequins on ice burgs (despite global warming) to create mood of coolness. Unfortunately the mannequins were left on their glass plates, and not anchored onto the ice burgs which was distracting. Lacoste is all about color and layering. Mikel Bowman, Visual Director has the unenviable task of decorating narrow windows, no more than a foot or two deep, that are two stories high. Further complicating matters the windows also run right down to the ground, still he creates levels, and brings a little bit of Antarctic color to Fifth Avenue.

Lord & Taylor: Blanche Dubois Gets Dressed Up, yes, Lord and Taylor recycled it’s classic Currier and Iveish animated windows that continue to delight children of all ages. They remain their central windows, Peppered into the mix are these fashion windows of a white birch forest in evening, dripping from the skies are snowflakes and icicles of Swarovski Crystals, and these glamorized mannequins in concoction of evening gowns made from feathers, beads, payetes, and sequins are fabulous. It’s almost as if Blanche Dubois (meaning white wood) has wandered out into the bayou, and is lost in her world of enchantment.

 

Lucky Brand: St. Pepper’s Cardboard Collage, rock breaks succors, scissors cut paper and I guess that cardboard trumps paper, in this homage to Sergeant Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band ‘album cover. Iconic and period figures in cardboard are artfully layered into the actual fashion presentation set on dress forms. The cardboard standees were all fun and strangely reminiscent of “Steampunk” motif. The window could not have cost much to produce, but its colorful, creative references the holidays with Santa’s, choir boys, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, and even the three wise men. It’s a collage that is the physical embodiment for all the random holiday muzak that play throughout our heads.

 

Macy’s: Dancing Confetti, while it may be more New Years Eve, than Christmas, these back windows are a flurry of over-sized Mylar confetti strung on mono-filament. They capture light; they are reflective and add activity without much movement. 

 

Paul Stuart: A Neon Quartet and Paper Snowflakes, one of my favorite retailers with the smartest clothing anywhere on the planet has created a series of displays where it’s famous invisible mannequins are playing neon instruments, ala Busby Berkley in his classic film “Dames”.  The neon which could be slick is tempered with paper snowflakes constructed out of sheet music. Tom Beebe, Visual Director, recently returned to his post after an extended absence to reinvigorate the brand. Indeed, he is well on his way. A talented rigger (a lost art) he understands storytelling, reinforces the brand with props and images that speak directly to the customer who appreciates good taste and quality.

 

Polo Ralph Lauren: Pretty Women, Sondheim and Lauren must have conspired, and shared their ideas about lifestyle. This eponymous brand appears to step right out of Sondheim’s ballad “Pretty Women! sitting in the window, or standing on the stair, something in them cheers the air.” While I seriously doubt that Ralph and Stephen hang out together, Lauren personifies an aristocratic and affected aesthetic. Even the close up of a shoe is compelling. The mannequins which are by Rootstein are perfect, as always. These windows are the three dimensional embodiment of the Polo ads. Visual Merchandising Director George Rivera understand how to communicate through the use of Visual Merchandising. The Polo brand is aspirational. I wish I had this kind of life.

 

Prada: Recycled Lights, like so many retailers who make huge investments in holiday programs, what was used in the A line stores last year  is sent to the B line boutiques the this year, and so on. Prada makes good use of it’s B lighted panels of bags and accessories in these menswear windows. Handsome clothing, a handsome window, how could any man on Madison Avenue not stop in to take a look.

Safdigh: Paper Snowflakes and Oriental Carpets, it’s not easy making oriental carpets seem like a holiday product, but this SoHo retailer cut simple paper snowflakes and strung them in from of a patterned carpet to great effect. Granted, the execution was not on the level of Paul Stuart, but it reiterates that even with a modest budget, and with a little creativity that no one has an excuse not to add to the holiday spirit.

 

Saks: Geometry of Men, Visual Director Julio Gomez, and Fashion Director of Windows Steve Swirzick make a splendid team. The menswear windows are always hip, modern and sexy. In this instance geometric mirrored sculptures framed in white trim create a kind of geometry that supports the angular lines of the classic male silhouette. The faux snow in the bottom introduces us to winter, and the simple triad of sculpture fashion /mannequins and snow, created kind of holy trinity of sheer perfection. Saks too has great male mannequins. It makes me realize how many lousy male mannequins are out there in the market, but great mannequins are nothing without great fashion stylized to sheer perfection.

Saks: Snowflake Story, I tire of hackneyed cliché holiday widows about mischievous elves, disenfranchised reindeer and tender hearted snowflakes, but what do I know, the lines to view Saks automated windows are always long. The windows tell the story of a snowflake, in where else, NYC. It’s cute, but too gimmicky for me, but again I’m jaded 52 years old, and 10 year olds tend to know more about what works than me. You be the judge.

 

 
Saks: Jezebel In A Red Dress: bookending the animated windows are the same geometric sculptures, same faux snow, and these Jezebel like females with their red dresses and red hair, and red lips, and red fingernails and with red spot lights are right out of a modern day telling of Snow White (who’s evil sister was “Rose Red”) , if you are not familiar with that part of the story,  you do know  that red has historically been a color associated with amorality and sin, and sexual potency, (Hawthorn’s Scarlet Letter, The Grimm’s Brothers Little Red Riding Hood, L. Frank Baum’s, The Wizard of Oz , Hans Christian Anderson’s, The Red Slippers…etc) anyway I digress its not what you’d think would fly in a holiday window, except for the fact tat the dresses are drop dead gorgeous, and the intensity of color is simply exciting. While it’s doubtful that many women in today’s economy will be wearing a designer evening gown to the PTA Christmas party, these windows are inspiring.

 
 

Shanghai-Tang: Mandarin Oranges are said to me a delicacy for the holidays, a tradition that goes back over two centuries when the whaling ships pulled into New Bedford, MA, loaded with oriental imports. Well, today’s holiday imports are available year round if you are shopping at Shanghai-Tang on Madison Avenue, customers include the former Duchess of York, Fergie, Whoopie Goldberg and my mother who wear the company’s signature black velvet jacket (lined in lime, hot pink and fuchsia) Even his abstracted male in a basic black with a red scarf appears ready for some festive occasion.  

 

Shoe Woo: A Shoelace Coiffure is all that Alexander Horwitz, Visual Director needed to put the finishing touches on. In this unique concept window, the product is women’s shoes. The window features Marie Antoinette taking a bubble bath in a tub of foamy bubbles, and bright blue heels rise to the surface like Ivory soap,, her hair done in the classic “Macaroni” style (see my blog on the Marconi Club 05/31/09) is cleverly done with pink and white shoelaces. The stool beside her has a Louis Quartorze inspired let them eat cake with marzipan heels on the top layer. A pink crystal chandelier is suspended over the tableau, with a backdrop of toile wallpaper. Busy, yes, but feminine and fun.  

Sony: Beethoven and Snip, Christine Belich, Visual Director at Sony always manages to create soft windows to temper the techno product of computers, laptops and M3P players. She references art and artists; she incorporates textural materials like felt, plastic and paper. In one window using this quirky doll, another a homage to Beethoven upon his going deaf, for their music players, and even this paper scissor window where family photographs that have been pulled out of the laser jet printer are snipped to look like acanthus leaves for a wreath. The windows breath life into machinery and makes human what is ultimately mechanical. She is not known as brilliant Belich for no reason.  

St. John: The Thinking Snowflake is an extemporary work as executed by St. John. Here, a perfect marriage of fashion, mannequin and prop (oversize crystal snowflake) met to create a perfect window. The retailer which caters to women in the luxury market is known for its sophistication and appeal to the business women who wants to dress up in suits without looking like another guy in the boardroom. The mannequin looks intelligent (which is an anomaly in the mannequin industry) and deep in thought as if she is weighing the benefits of some corporate merger, who cares, she looks fabulous and that’s what’s really important.

  

Tiffany’s: Filigreed Paper, when a luxury retailer goes back to using paper to convey it’s brand image, you know a trend is afoot. The ghost of Gene Moore must have been channeled! I’m not certain who the Visual Merchandiser is, but the filigreed papers are stunning, and pierced with the meticulousness (is that a real word?) that is obsessively sick. It’s beyond lace-like. It’s almost as delicate as an actual snowflake. Each window is a study in perfection. I especially like the window for Cinderella’s carriage, which is right out of a storybook. Naturally, the gems are stunning.  Tiffany’s never disappoints. My only regret is that Audrey Hepburn is not alive to see these wonderful windows.

Tom Ford: The M66 Doesn’t Stop Here, Tom Ford is gifted and gorgeous, we all know that, but his Madison Avenue windows are always a disappointment to me. You may not even be able to make out this image, but again it’s mirrored surfaces, spinning round and round while a black patent leather slipper and red velvet bow tie wrapped around the shoe are featured. It’s sparkles, yes, but is difficult to absorb. In a curious note, on the street corner is where the M66 passes by, and the Verizon phone booth coincidentally has the classic Tom Ford advertising which is head and shoulders more attractive and handsome that the Ford windows. I can never take my eye off of these ads! The Tom Ford ads are the most sexy images in any magazine these days. My holiday wish is that Tom Ford’s windows looked at least as good as the bus stop.  

 

Valentino: Lights, Camera & No Action, this is one of those “what were they thinking windows?” Again, more New Years Eve, than holiday, flashing lights wish us a “Merry Xmas”, the mannequin in a black mini is blindfolded like she’s waiting for the firing squad to show up, or some masochistic dominatrix to give instructions. Either way I thought it was just ghastly; especially for a retailer/designer known for their incredible red dresses. This was cold, sterile and creepy.

Versace: Goldfinger, these warm golden mannequins are set in front of a golden reflective background, hit with amber lighting and radiates the warmth of gold. It’s shimmery, and probably as decadent as Nero’s toilet, and a perfect presentation for Versace. It oozes luxury. It’s the only golden window in the city where everything else is silvery. (One other exception Cartier is gold too) 

 

Zara: Black Confetti; unlike Macy’s strung Mylar confetti, Zara has over-sized black, charcoal and grey toned confetti strewn on the wall, a kind of post modern art piece that I’d expect to see in Ray Eames home. The windows are what they call hip and edgy. Edgy is questionable. The clothing picks up all the monochromatic tones, and conveys to the customer that black has a broad spectrum of tones to mix and match. Its very urban, very New York, and works well. My only complaint is that this concept window has been running all winter long with no let up, it gets tiresome, and while the clothing is swapped out, the repetitive theme can get played out.