A 1960 Ski Marriage

I hope you weren’t expecting wedding photos, as this is a different type of marriage. It’s a marriage of objects that started life in the same place, were separated, and are now reunited.

I found the plaid parka three or four years ago in an antique mall here in North Carolina. For a while it actually resided in my own closet, but I was afraid to wear it because it was so pristine. So for over a year it sat, waiting for a companion to make it complete. Then, out of the blue, I got an email from my friend Hollis of Past Perfect Vintage. She had a pair of ski pants that she thought I might be interested in. After seeing photos, I knew I was interested. I had found (or rather it found me) the mate for my parka.

A bonus was that the pants were unworn, and even had the original hangtag attached. And look at the little White Stag logo charm.

Here you see that the parka has the same charm as the zipper pull. I’m not sure how long White Stag used the charm, but I have only seen it on garments from the late 1950s and early 1960s.

Also in the category of Things I Don’t Know, is the issue of labels. Up until around 1960 White Stag used blue or red labels.

At the same time, the colored labels were replaced with a white label with gold lettering. It’s likely that the use of the labels overlapped. It’s also possible that the pants are a year older than the parka, but the blue is identical and the match is perfect.

Both pieces are very well made, as is seen in White Stag active sportswear of this era. But not long after these pieces were made, things began to change at White Stag. I once had a conversation with a former executive of the company who told me that sometime in the 1960s White Stag decided to go in a more “fashion” direction. The ski wear became more about looks than about function, and was eventually just phased out.  If you see White Stag items from the 1970s and later, you will see what he was talking about.

But my set is functional for outdoor sports. The parka is lined in waterproof nylon, and the hood fits tightly to the head without affecting visibility. There is a drawstring at the hem so it can be adjusted to suit the wearer. And all the pockets are deep and are zippered.

The pants pockets are also zippered, and the hems of the pants are slightly flared to allow one to easily pull them on. And there is a wide elastic strap to hold the legs securely under the boots.

As Hollis said to me when I got these, it really does pay to let people know what you collect. I’ve gotten a lot of great items from sellers who have learned my collecting needs. And check out Hollis’s shop and Instagram. She sells some of the best vintage clothing on the net.

A note about my photos. I know they are bad. I have lost my “good” camera, and I obviously have not mastered the art of smartphone photos. Please bear with me!

Ski Suit, 1930s or early 1940s

I bought this white and blue ski suit some time ago, and until I posted about the late 20s suit, I had forgotten that I’d not shown off this one. There are a lot of similarities between this suit and the 1920s suit, but the differences are what makes placing a date on this set easier.

The biggest difference is probably the use of the zipper as an important part of the garment. The late 20s top has a short zipper at the neck, but  with its prominent tassel, I tend to think it was more for decoration than function. Remember, that earlier set was knit, and this one, made five to ten years later, is a woven. There is a need for garment openings, and both the jacket and the pants have zippers.

The 1920s knit pants were stretchy enough to pull on without an opening. There later pants with the tightly woven wool, require an opening. By the time these were made, probably after 1935, zippers were coming into common use in garments.

This set does have knit cuffs on the sleeves and pants legs.  The touch of color really adds to the attractiveness of this set.

This little tab under the collar keeps the jacket securely closed.

There is also a tab at the top of the pants zipper. Could it be that the maker just did not trust the zippers to hold securely? Remember, the zipper was just becoming commonly used. Maybe they were like the early adopters of the nylon coil zipper in the 1960s, when zipper failures were a very real problem.

That metal buckle also helps in adjusting the waist size.

Another clue that this suit is later than my 1920s one is the emphasis put on the natural waistline. You see that same feature on the ski suit in the 1941 photograph of Geraldine Kirkendall that I posted earlier this week. Actually these two suits are alike in every way except for the puffed sleeves  and surface decoration on Geraldine’s suit.

So, what keeps this ski suit from being from the later 1940s or even the 50s? Mainly, it’s the fabric used. By the time WWII started for the USA in 1941, manufacturers were turning away from heavy, fuzzy wools like the one used in my suit. Wool gabardine was found to be more resistant to water and wind and was lighter in weight. Ski pants lost the knit cuffs, and under-the-foot straps were added to keep the legs tucked into the boots and socks.

Okay, the gabardine suits might have been more practical, but I can’t imagine anything being cozier for a snowy day.

White Stag Ski Togs Promotional Brochure

A recent addition to my sportswear archive is this little folder from White Stag of Portland, Oregon. It isn’t dated, but from the style of the clothing, I can say it is late 1940s.

Thanks to @noaccountingfortaste on Instagram, I can tell you a bit about the illustrator of the cover. She was Gereldine Olinger Hinkle Abbot, or as she signed this picture, Gerry.

Jessica wrote,”She was born in Washington state; in 1944, she and her first husband moved to San Francisco, and by 1946 she was working for Lilli Ann as art director and advertising manager. She also lived and worked in Portland, illustrating for Jantzen and White Stag and numerous department stores. In 1950, she won the Frances Holmes Achievement Award for advertising women of the West, an award named for the first woman to open her own ad agency, in Los Angeles. She won three awards; one for best layout series, best mechanical production, and best finished art series for work she’d done for the firm Frederick and Nelson, and was given the overall achievement award because she “…best typified how a woman can achieve outstanding merit in the world of advertising.” She opened her own agency, Gerry Advertising and Art Service.”

Inside the folder is a little dictionary of ski terms, and several cards that have photos of the latest ski fashions. In this period of time, ski pants, and usually jackets as well, were made of wool gabardine, this is thin and light, though dense and warm. The pants were pleated at the waist to give the wearer greater mobility.

This is a pretty standard ski suit from the late 1940s. The shoulders are still wide, and the pants are roomy. It would be only a few years before Willi and Maria Bogner of Germany discovered that thick nylon knit made a sleek and effective ski pant and changed the style completely.

Here the pants are gabardine, but the jackets in made of cotton poplin. White stag started as a canvas tent makers, and they continued to work with cotton fabrics.

This is the Ski Banner style described in the photo above. On the back of each card is a brief description and the price. At $14.95 and $16.95, these togs weren’t cheap. According to the inflation calculator, the jacket would be 171.63 and the pants would be $194.59 in 1017 dollars.

 

The Ski-O-Tard from White Stag

One of the great things about collecting it that there is always something new to be discovered.  Take the garment above.  It’s a White Stag creation called the Ski-O-Tard.  I was lucky to spot this recently on etsy, and was even luckier that the thing still had the original hangtag attached.

Hangtags often contain very valuable information, and in this case, the most important info was the name of the garment.  Without the unusual name, I might never have been able to learn a thing about the Ski-O-Tard.  And even with the name, I’ve been able to find only a few images, all dated 1948.

Even though White Stag was in the process of copyrighting the name, I think it is safe to assume that the idea just never caught on.  For one thing, all the bunched up fabric between the legs must have felt like one was wearing a diaper.  And while it probably was warm, it was so bulky that wearing it beneath slim-fitting trousers would have been difficult.

Although it was meant to be worn as a first layer, all the photos I found showed it without pants.  One photo is the January 1948 cover of See, a magazine for men, and another was in the pages of the January 8, 1948 issue of The Dispatcher, a Longshoreman Union newspaper.

When I posted a photo of the tag on Instagram, Julie at Jet Set Sewing commented that the Ski-O-Tard reminded her of the Claire McCardell “diaper” bathing suit.  I had not seen the resemblance, but after Julie mentioned it, I certainly did.  McCardell’s suit dates from the early 1940s, so it could be that it directly influenced the designer of the White Stag Ski-O-Tard.

In the 1940s and 1940s, White Stag used this tag in red, but also similar ones in bright blue and in white with red lettering.  Labels from the 1960s are usually white with gold lettering.  I only am telling this because White Stag garments can be really hard to date, as sportswear , while it did follow fashion, did not change as quickly as fashionable dress.   In this case, the Ski-O-Tard has very strong shoulder pads, at a time when shoulders were beginning to soften up a bit.

I thought you might enjoy seeing what the Ski-O-Tard looks like when not fastened at the waist.  Can you see how the concept might have been improved with a bit less fabric at the crotch?

As always, I welcome any additional information about the Ski-O-Tard.

1930s Superose Outing Jacket

Last week I talked about the joys of finding a complete outfit.  Today I have just a single piece to share, an outing jacket from Supak and Sons of Minneapolis, Minnesota.  According to newspaper reports in 1954, the company had been making outdoor garments in Minneapolis since 1933.  In 1954 the company relocated to Elizabeth City, North Carolina.  This was during a time when many companies moved south to find a work force that was cheaper and that was not unionized.  Think of it as the first step in off-shoring.

I loved the jacket when I first saw it, but I’ll have to admit that it was the label that sold me on this one.

While this jacket was not labeled as a ski jacket, the company advertised itself as a maker of snow and ski attire.  I can just picture this pretty jacket on the slopes, with maybe dark green wool ski pants, or even brown ones.

I spend quite a bit of my collection time looking at how ensembles were put together in the past.  Ski jackets and pants were sold in matching sets, but the jackets and pants were also sold as separates.  It’s up to me to try and figure out what most likely would have been paired with this jacket by a woman planning a skiing trip.

The color is a bit too orange in this photo.

There is just a hint of extra fullness in the sleeve cap, which tends to say 1936 to 1937 or so.  The presence of a zipper is also within that time frame.

Here’s a nice feature – the pockets are lined in cotton flannelette which is much warmer than the acetate linings and pockets so commonly used today.

Added:  In 1945 the owners of Supak and Sons were listed in a trademark filing as  Henry Supak, Nathan Supak, Sophie Supak, Maurice M. Kleyman, and Thedore Ptashne.

1930s Northbilt Ski Pants

In the 1930s skiing was a relatively new spot in the US, having become popular only in the 1920s.  After winter resorts and ski slopes were developed it became obvious that women especially were going to need clothing specifically for the sport.  It just was not practical to try to make one’s way down a mountain wearing a 1920s skirt, or even knickers that ended at the knee.  By the early 1930s companies were making full length wool ski pants for women, another great example of how active sportswear led to women adopting the wearing of pants.

Even though these ski pants were made to be functional in the snow, a woman wearing them would still want to look her best.  The waist and hip area is slim and quite fitted, with little extra bulk.

And what a nice curve there is to the side button opening.

The leg cuffs are made of a knit wool for a close fit.

And for the key to your room at the lodge, a little patch pocket was included.

These ski pants were made by the Northbilt company in Minneapolis.  According to the US Trademark site, Northbilt was first used as a brand name in 1919.  The last reference I can find to the company was in 1962.  As always, additional information about this company would be appreciated.

Here is a page from a 1936 Montgomery Ward catalog showing their selection of women’s ski pants, which are very similar to my pair.  Note that one pair has  “slide fasteners” – zippers – at the cuffs and the waist.  Button closings were slowly being replaced.

Updates – The Rest of the Story

I posted about this great White Mountain skiing outfit back in March.  I recently got an email form Elizabeth, who sent some White Mountain ads my way.

This is a newspaper ad from 1950, and yes, that is my ski suit.   The ad mentions that is comes in grey and red, and that the jacket is reversible.  An earlier ad from 1936 tells a bit about the company:

If you are serious about skiing you’ll take to White Mountain.  They’re not only inspired by that famous White Mountain Ski Camp which attracts snow trains of enthusiastic sportsmen and their ladies, they’re more than that…They’re tried and experienced ideas of people who mean business when they plan their snow wardrobe.  No fussy “extras,” no furbelows – just simple efficiency which sets its own fashion.

You may remember the delightful conversation I had with handbag designer Magda Makkay.  For my birthday I received a huge box from her, and inside was what has become my go-to travel bag.  Here it is sitting outside the 1920 elevator of the Biltmore Greensboro Hotel where I stayed recently.  It’s just incredible that she can turn out a fantastic bag like this.

I happen to know that Magda has a birthday coming up in late June.  If you’d like to join me in wishing her a happy 89th birthday, send me an email and I’ll let you know her address.  I know she’d be pleasantly surprised by cards from lots of fashion history people who want to says thanks for her contributions to fashion.