Glamour, May, 1943

From the cover notes:

In previous years, necks this low were usually seen on evening dresses.  Now they come right out in broad daylight and, combined with the briefest of sleeves, signal a new type of day-or-date dress that is this summer’s favorite.

In 1943 it was becoming increasingly necessary for the clothing budget ( and ration coupons) to be stretched as far as possible.  Clothing was often advertised as being multi-purpose, much like this “day-or-date” dress.  And while not exactly office-appropriate, it does seem like just the thing for an afternoon out shopping  or for a  casual dinner date.

This issue of Glamour was full of wardrobe stretching ideas:

* To save wear on your work clothes, change into slacks or hardy cottons when you arrive at home after work.

*  Keep your clothes repaired and clean.  ”A stitch in time saves nine.”

*  Cover up the moth holes in your old wool swimsuit with flower appliques cut from colorful cotton.

*  Make a sturdy housedress by adding a skirt to the bottom of an old shirt.

*  Fasten a bunch of fresh flowers to a plain hat.  It’s like a new hat every time you wear it!

Photographer:  Lemus

Model: Not credited

Copyright: Condé Nast

Fashion Correspondence, 1940s

 

One thing I’m always on the lookout for is old paper that pertains to the textile or fashion industry.  Here in North Carolina, I usually find things about cotton mills or denim manufacturing or hosiery production, but last week I found a nice collection of letters from sportswear and dress makers.  All the letters were to a Mr. William Teague of Greensboro, NC, and all were dated between 1943 and early 1947.

Standing in the flea market, shuffling through the letters, I was amazed at the letterheads, many of them from companies with which I’m familiar.  It was too good a find to pass up, and the seller just seemed pleased that someone actually wanted the things.

Yesterday was cold and rainy, so I got out the box of letters and began reading and sorting.  As it turns out, Teague was working as a sales representative for clothing manufacturers.  He would receive samples which he took to stores, hoping they would place an order with the company.  From the commissions he made his living.

It was a tough time to be in that business.  Many of the letters refer to wartime fabric shortages, and how the makers couldn’t expand into new territory because they simply did not have the goods.    The shortages did not stop with the end of the war.  It took several years for manufacturing to return to normal.

Teague was evidently a real go-getter.  There are dozens of rejection letters, often three or four from the same company written over a period of as many years.  It seemed that he would represent several companies at a time, tailoring his merchandise to the type of store, being careful not to sell the same dress to every store in a small town.

At least once this practice of representing more than one company  got him into trouble.  In 1946 the Debby-Lou Sportswear company of Boston terminated his services because he:

“…violated the terms of your understanding with this company.  As you well know, it is the policy of this company, and you agreed to adhere to this policy, that no other lines were to be carried by you without first obtaining the express consent of this company.”

I’ve got to wonder how they found out, them being in Boston and him in North Carolina.  Could it have been a jealous competitor, or maybe it was a store owner who was unhappy with his style of salesmanship?

The letterheads are quite interesting.  Many of them feature the same logos that were found on their labels.  And there is a lot of information about where companies were located, the official name of the company, and often, the name of the owner.

I was happy to see several letters from Lady Alice since I had written about this company recently.  There were also two promotional posters from Lady Alice.

Some of the letterheads are simply cute.

It’s an interesting look at one  little aspect of how the fashion industry operated in the 1940s.

Ad Campaign – Lady Alice – 1943

Wear Your Own Secret Heart Code!

Lady Alice International Signal Flag Shirt

Your heart condition will be a secret to your sisters, but every service man will know how he stands, when you wear your Lady Alice code flag shirt.  One glance and the International Flag Code will subtly send your message.

It’s not unusual to see military themed garments and fabrics in ads  from the WWII period, and here is a prime example.   Lady Alice took the plain open neck blouse and added a touch of whimsey.  There was an “authentic colored signal flag” embroidered on the breast pocket.  Each flag had a actual meaning, but it is easy to interpret them in terms of Girl meets Boy: “Man overboard”, “I require a pilot”, and “I require assistance”.

And I find the Lady Alice interpretation of “I require assistance” – “You’re just a helpless little girl who’s looking for a big strong man to protect her”  to be not only grammatically confusing, but really ironic seeing as how  the very helpless little girl this was being marketed to was most likely working in a factory producing weapons for that big strong man to use in fighting the war.

Lady Alice was part of the California garment industry that emerged in the early 20th century.  It was founded in 1925 by an immigrant from Iceland, Krist Gunderson.  He also started the Lil’ Alice label.  Both labels were used until sometime in the 1960s when the company became known as Alice of California.

Currently Reading: Slacks and Calluses

Slacks and Calluses was the result of two high school teachers who decided to spend their summer vacation in 1943 helping out the war effort by working in an aircraft factory.   Constance Bowman Reid was an English teacher, and her friend Clara Maris Allen taught art, and in their spare time that summer they worked together to produce this delightful little book.

When I found this book, I assumed it was a  memoir, written by the pair many years later, but instead they  put the finishing touches on their work after they returned to school that fall, and they were lucky enough to get the book published the next year.  As a result, the book has a freshness and humor that goes with the very recent retelling of a story.

Along with the amazing descriptions of how a giant airplane assembly line actually worked, Slacks and Calluses has a lot of insights as to the fashions of the day.  Most interesting are the attitudes toward women wearing what was still considered in most situations, men’s clothing.

It was bad enough being tired all the time and dirty most of the time, but worst of all the first week was having to go to work in slacks – down Fourth Street where people who knew us acted as if they didn’t, or down Third Street where people who didn’t know us whistled as if they did.

The two friends found that clerks in stores ignored them, other women on the street scorned them  and men on buses would not surrender their seats to them like they did to women wearing skirts.

It was a great shock to C.M. and me to find that being a lady depended more on our clothes than upon ourselves… This summer we found out that it was not out innate dignity that protected us from unwelcome attentions, but our trim suits, big hats, white gloves, and spectator shoes.  Clothes, we reflected sadly, make the woman – and some clothes make the man think he can make the woman.

Some women in the factories, the “women’s counselors” and nurses, were allowed to wear skirts. Constance and C.M. “hated” those women.

On the positive side, the two did not have to worry about their figures that year, as all the walking just getting to their spot on the assembly line was sufficient exercise, and then the job itself was quite physical.

Slacks and Calluses is a light, fun read that gives a view of WWII that is rather hard to come by.  In the updated version, Reid wrote an epilogue, in which she says she was a bit embarrassed by the book.  That is because she went on to write books about math and number theory and became quite renowned for this work.  She died in 2010 at the age of 92.

Ad Campaign: Matson to Hawaii, 1951

Forgive me for a moment so I can indulge in a little wintertime fantasy.  It’s a cold, rainy, gloomy day, but on the seas to Hawaii all is sunny and bright.

It took the cruise lines a few years to get back up to speed after WWII, as most of the ships had been used in the war effort.  Matson was operating four luxury liners in the Pacific before December 7, 1941, and all were converted into troop carriers.  Together, the four Matson liners carried a total of 736,000 troops and covered one and a half million miles before the war ended in 1945.

The transition back to cruise service was difficult and costly for Matson.  They ended up selling two of their liners so that the S.S. Lurline could be remodeled and relaunched in 1948.  By the late 1950s Matson had four liners making the route between California and Hawaii.  Today Matson is still in business as a container ship operator on the Pacific.  I’m sure it is more profitable than running cruise ships, but it could not be as romantic.

Woman’s Day, November 1945

World War II had ended only two months before this November, 1945 cover was released, but it must have been months in the planning.  The Germans surrendered in May, the atomic bombs were dropped in August, and the outcome of the war was clear.  All that was left was for the soldiers to become veterans and return home.  And it looks like this guy has made it just in time to celebrate Thanksgiving.

So, no fashion this Saturday, only the good feeling of a young man reunited with his dog, and the knowledge that Mom is baking his favorite pie.

PS: Note that this magazine cost 2 cents!

Illustrator:  N.C. Wyeth

Copyright:  Hearst Corporation

Ad Campaign – Chesterfield, 1942

In wartime, more than ever, a satisfying smoke is a comfort and a pleasure.  It means a lot to men in the Service and to men and women everywhere.

Here’s a war time ad that has it all:   war bonds poster, attractive woman in a uniform, patriotic jargon and a reminder that the product is “On the Nation’s Front.”

In the US, cigarettes were not rationed, but they could be hard to come by because most of the production was going into soldiers’ ration kits.  My father entered the army in 1944 as a 17 year old.  Grandmother Lizzie agreed to let him go as long as he promised two things:  no tattoos and no smoking.  He resisted the tattoo, but the lure of free cigarettes was just too much.