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During the hegemonic period of Paris, fashion was often presented as result-
ing from the dictates of a handful of Parisian couturiers. Fashion was the “great
dictator,” determining not only the colors and cuts that women should wear but
also the most intimate constraints on their bodies: the height of their heels, the
width and curve of their waists, and the amplitude of their skirts—all subject to
change at short notice. The dresses of the early 1900s, heavily corseted and calling
for round busts and hips, were rejected during World War I and were then fol-
lowed by the flapper silhouette, thin, flat, constraining women to bandage their
breasts. Indeed, the fashion business managed to unify aesthetic trends in the
Western countries, and these trends exercised a strong influence on the forma-
tion of aesthetic standards and tastes. When fashion products were too expensive,
the new aesthetic trends still reached wide circles of people through imitation and
counterfeiting.
Another reading of fashion, however, emphasizes not the power of producers,
but instead the agency of consumers. In the transatlantic fashion business that
flourished after World War I, and especially from the perspective of American
buyers of Paris fashions, professionals acknowledged that the major factor of
unpredictability in fashion resided in the customers’ response.
The danger is particularly important for the new product (produit de la création).
It is a realm in which imponderables dominate, and the clientele is extremely sensi-
tive to these. Who will ever know, for example, why one color chosen is successful
while the neighboring nuance of the same fabric sells poorly? . . . On an economic
level, it is certain that [unpredictability] influences the cost of production and forces
one to sell other articles at higher prices to compensate for the losses due to [the
public’s] unforeseeable disfavor.4
Transatlantic fashion professionals had to manage two sets of factors: the creative
whims of the Parisian couturiers and the mysterious preferences of the consumers.
Fashion forecasting seemed to offer reassurance about the future.
The coordination of fabrics and color samples began during the nineteenth
century among French fabric industrialists. In particular, it developed with
the specially skilled échantillonniers (from échantillon, or sample), traveling
salesmen who offered new fabrics to couturiers and manufacturers. The échan-
tillonniers developed considerable skill in offering their samples in coherent
scrapbooks structured in collections of coordinated colors, textures, and patterns.
Coordination became an aesthetic staple in the profession.5
A second wave of expertise developed during the interwar period, as did new
professional communication skills and impeccable transatlantic networks. This
generation of experts diversified along specialization lines. Color forecasting, for
example, became a skill in itself. In the United States, figures like Margaret
Hayden Rorke of the Color Card Association and Dorothy Liebes from the
DuPont Company perfected the expertise necessary for color forecasting and
made it a profession in its own right.6
The emerging professionals of fashion forecasting issued mainly from
American entrepreneurial and media networks, and they perfected the selection,
been associated with high-end, unique, handmade products, rather than with
industrial production.11 Because of this conjunction of generational and systemic
changes, the profession of the stylistes has often been described as a radical 1960s
novelty, but their methods and expertise can be traced earlier than that. In a sense,
this reconciliation of beauty and mass-produced fashions could occur nowhere
more easily than between the French and the U.S. fashion worlds, a transnational
setting in which high-end craftsmanship and the democracy of fashion could be
mediated by a new kind of expert.12
Two broad directions can be underlined in the activities of the transatlantic
fashion experts during the interwar period. On the one hand, these specialists
could develop a bottom-up approach, researching the trends that were aestheti-
cally innovative, whatever their origin, and examining how consumers interpreted
them. In this case, the point was to anticipate consumers’ future demands and
to offer products that were the most likely to meet consumers’ needs and tastes.
On the other hand, the experts could pursue a top-down approach that emanated
from the producer, who was looking for the best way to convince consumers that
a product was necessary and—especially in mass consumer society—could bring
satisfaction and aesthetic pleasure. In this second view, as we will see, forecasting
fashions became something else entirely; it entailed promoting a trend from the
producer, who paid consultants to publicize its products to the consumer.
This chapter looks at both kinds of fashion forecasting activities by American
experts, focusing on two major early figures in particular. The first, exemplify-
ing the bottom-up approach to fashion forecasting, is the female entrepreneur
Tobé Coller Davis, who led a brilliant career in fashion consulting, crowned
by a lectureship in marketing at the Harvard Business School. The second is
one of the founding fathers of public relations (PR), Edward L. Bernays, who
was commissioned to work as a PR consultant to advertise the productions
of fashion professionals. Bernays became an iconic example of the top-down
approach, and his PR specialization made him an early mover in the field of
fashion communications, which proved a major asset for fashion forecasting.
in the fall and another in the spring in order to prepare buyers for the high
seasons.21
She incorporated Tobé Fashion Director on May 20, 1930, with a capital of
$5,000 and established her offices at 1540 Broadway.22 The firm simply became
“Tobé” the next year.23 Its chief rounded out her considerable activities with fre-
quent conferences on fashion and retail, speaking at the Ritz-Carlton New York
as soon as she got off the boat from the Paris openings and talking about fashion
buying at events like the New York Convention of the National Retail Dry Goods
Association.24 She also consulted for the Retail Millinery Association and others.
During the 1930s, she started writing seasonal fashion reports for the New York
Times.25
In the spring of 1934, Tobé opened new offices at 500 Fifth Avenue, doubling
the company’s space.26 Annual subscriptions to Tobé’s weekly fifty-page reports
sold for between 500 and 3,000 dollars, depending on the client’s sales volume.
In the midst of the Great Depression, her business was making $100,000 per
year. According to Fortune magazine, she was the “best known women’s wear
merchandise adviser in the U.S.”27 Her list of clients contained over a hun-
dred of the most exclusive in the business, including major department stores
like Macy’s, Bamberger’s, Hall Brothers, Eaton’s in Canada, and Harrod’s in the
United Kingdom, as well as a Milanese retailer, probably La Rinascente.28 Tobé
then employed over a hundred people. She sent her assistants to mingle and hunt
for trends in the “Café Society” circles of Manhattan, Long Island, Palm Beach,
and Newport; at exclusive fashion shows, horse races, and charity balls in Paris;
and at fashionable resorts around Europe. The assistants were to bring back com-
plete information on what the trendy crowd was wearing—not only clothes, but
also accessories, hair, and make-up, everything that could serve as a useful indi-
cator to the fashion and beauty businesses.29 In 1934, Tobé also started using a
different media; she worked on a movie featuring beachwear produced by the
French firm Pathé News.30
Tobé not only worked in high fashion but also advised better and more afford-
able clothing in lines for between $7.95 and $15.31 Her aim was to show what,
from the Paris creations, could be reinterpreted in order to cater to the American
masses. She intended to communicate changes in fashion (an irrational phe-
nomenon that can be defined as “change for the sake of change”32 ) in order to
make them understandable and foreseeable. Moreover, Tobé’s interest in Paris
fashions did not keep her from advocating originality in American fashions.
Toward the end of the interwar period, she expressed her interest in American
designs, supporting the idea that lower-end U.S. manufacturers would greatly
benefit from employing their own in-house designers.33
Besides giving consultancy lectures, Tobé pursued an interest in teaching.
In September 1937, together with Julia Coburn, who had previously been the
fashion editor at the Ladies’ Homes Journal, she started the School for Fashion
Careers in New York. Its purpose was to make it “the first school whose primary
objective is to train women for executive fashion positions.” Coburn served as the
school’s executive director and dedicated all her time to the task. Tobé designed
the curriculum and taught a part of it, in addition to doing her forecasting
work.34
Tobé’s career in teaching, as an external consultant, and at Tobé, Inc. con-
tinued into the postwar era. In 1955, she was appointed director of Allied Stores
Corp., an important American brokerage whose Parisian offices centralized finan-
cial and commercial operations for a number of American department stores
in their dealings with European suppliers.35 “In 1956 a group of friends raised
$10,000 as nucleus of an endowment for an annual Tobé lecture at Harvard Busi-
ness School of Business Administration,” and Tobé was invited to give the final
lecture in this retail series at Harvard Business School in the following years.36 Her
arrival in New York’s high society included her sponsoring an annual “retailer
of the year” award, which was presented at a “bosses’ dinner” that included
the cream of the American retailing business, and also politicians, intellectu-
als, and artists.37 In her later career years, Tobé received numerous honors and
awards herself. In 1941, she won the Neiman Marcus award, and in 1953, she
became a chevalier of the French Legion of Honor in clear acknowledgment of
her contributions to the international hegemony of French fashions.
In 1962, the year of her death, her company was still a major actor of the fash-
ion business: “Tobé & Associates[’] main contribution to fashion merchandising
is the weekly Tobé Report, a 50-page analysis of the fashion scene to come. Tobé’s
personal advice was valued highly by her clients. A day’s consultation fetched
a $1,000 fee. Among her clients were more than 250 top retail stores in this
country, Canada, England, France and Australia.”38 The Tobé service pursued its
activities after its founder’s passing. It was bought in 2005 for an undisclosed
sum by Doneger enterprises, based in New York. Tobé was not the only fashion
forecaster of her times, but she was—and retained the reputation of being—the
American forecaster who was the best as transferring and translating the trends
born in Paris.
American domestic market. In 1929, 135 retailers from across the country signed
up, including Best & Co., Bloomingdale Bros., and Russeks.42 That same year,
Parrish treated some twenty-five American fashion entrepreneurs—among them
the chairmen of Saks, Macy’s, Davidow, Wannamaker, Gimbel’s, Jay-Thorpe, and
Lord & Taylor—to an informal lunch at the Ritz featuring the Parisian couturière
Elsa Schiaparelli as the guest of honor.43
Between 1929 and 1933, at the height of the Depression, the consulting activ-
ities of Tobé, Amos Parrish, and their New York colleagues flourished, and these
professionals increasingly presented their work to the press as forecasting and
“prediction.”44 Amos Parrish thought that fashion could be successfully fore-
cast months in advance and that “scientific methods” had replaced guesswork,
enabling a much more efficient use of purchasing budgets and inventory.
According to Bernays, Lathrop was to use the fashion press to publicize cur-
rent styles, and she should place ideas in the trade magazines. She also needed to
obtain further press materials from photographers. To this end, Bernays advised
her to make contact upon her arrival in Paris with Therese Bonney, then a promi-
nent American fashion photographer in Paris. She should give preference to
Bonney rather than either the usual suspect Baron de Meyer or Man Ray, who
the Worths occasionally commissioned but who Bernays dismissed as “stodgy.”55
Bernays also tasked Lathrop with describing collections after the fashion shows.
Bernays hoped that she would even have a say in how the dresses were named,
suggesting that she include among these names landmarks of American culture
like Palm Beach.
Bernays concluded his recommendations with a paragraph on a question that
was especially dear to him: the psychology of the consumer. He therefore stated,
“In a sense, what Mr. Worth really needs is simply someone who will be able
to intelligently interpret him to the Paris correspondents, and who will tell him
what to do and what not to do from the standpoint of both their psychology
and the American psychology. I would go so far, after a little while, as to suggest
changes in the approach to the American customer as she comes in.”56
Lathrop had an enthusiastic start in mid-January 1926. Her schedule was
extremely busy, but, as she wrote to her friend Doris, on Sundays she would
go discover Paris. Her first worry was about her clothes because, she stated, her
happy marriage had made her lose her sartorial conscience. She soon obtained a
budget for Worth clothes, and in the next weeks, was fitted in house for a crepe
marocain afternoon dress, a coat, shoes, a hat, and an evening dress.57 A bit later
she wrote Doris that, in terms of “the stimulation of American clientele,” she had
learned more by wearing her own Worth dresses than in any other way.58
The third generation of Worths continued to cater to a clientele of royals,
including the Queen of Spain. This was one of the endogenous difficulties that
Bernays had briefed Lathrop on before her departure. Younger houses had the
advantage of being able to mingle with artists and the demimonde, using scan-
dal as advertising on occasion, for example, Coco Chanel. Two other prominent
examples of young couturiers tapping into modern publicity methods, and some-
times flirting with scandal, were Lucien Lelong and Jean Patou. Both their private
lives and work converged in the development of modern couture. Patou—young,
handsome, and single—traveled to New York in 1924 to cast American man-
nequins, arguing that the bodies of his American clients differed so much from
those of Frenchwomen that he needed appropriate models, if he wished to sell in
the United States. He brought six young women from New York to France and
went on developing his Patous couture house, which was characterized by his own
mixture of “Americanism,” combining American aesthetic influences and French
know-how.59 Bernays, a pioneer in tapping into the unconsciousness of the con-
sumer, could not capitalize on the scandalous potential of the House of Worth,
and this was making his task difficult.60
From February 1927, Lathrop started complaining to Bernays about increas-
ing obstacles. The transmission of information among different Worth family
members was slowing down decision-making.61 Jacques Worth, despite being the
public face of the house, was not ready to follow Bernays’s strategies, and “insisted
that he wished his photograph kept out [of the press]. And that the sort of thing
Patou and Lelong were doing was not good business.”62 The younger couture
houses were indeed enhancing their capital of glamour, scandal, and sexiness,
building fashion aesthetics that are still influential in the fashion industry.
Bernays intended to make the House of Worth a star in the fashion forecasts,
but the Worths remained insensitive to the demands of modern communica-
tions.63 The Worths, added Lathrop, could be interviewed only if coached. And
the interviewer needed coaching, too.64 When writing his memoirs, Biography of
an Idea, Bernays later remembered that Jacques Worth was prone to major gaffes
when interviewed in English, which prompted Bernays to limit the couturier’s
media exposure.65
Daly, the dancers Dora Duby and Marjorie Moss, and the opera singer Kathleen
Howard.74 Press releases issued under Bernays’s supervision carefully commented
on every important order by prominent American clients, whether they were
socialites or governors’ wives, and no matter if they came from old fortunes or
new. One frequently featured client was Paul Claudel’s wife: “Mme Claudel, wife
of the French Ambassador to the United States, who will shortly accompany
her husband here, is having her entire wardrobe made chez Worth. Designed
recently for her by the famous couturier was an evening gown of white velvet,
with front drapery, accented by a long fold. The back is embroidered in brilliants
and pearls . . . ”75
In publicity campaigns, Bernays advised Worth to show young and modern
designs in photographs of evening and sports clothes, including beach pajamas,
along with captions like “Worth has captured the spirit of youthfulness.”76 Several
models in Worth’s collection bore American names. A press caption for the 1927
Bootlegger Suit boasted that it came “with quart-size pockets. A Frenchman’s pro-
hibition fantasy. Worth introduced this model in his Winter collection. Of brown
and white checked cheviot, the jacket is trimmed with beaver . . . ”77 Playing on
different American cultural associations, another caption read, “Quaker Girl is an
interesting new gown designed by Worth for the young girl. It is made of heavy
dark red crepe de Chine with a fascinating new full skirt out on circular lines. Its
flattering Puritan collar is of white handkerchief linen on which is embroidered
in a small medallion a ship motif—perhaps the Mayflower.”78
By the late 1920s, the House of Worth offered a full range of perfumes, cos-
metics, and bath products. In 1928, the company developed a more innovative
type of tie-in product, when it designed a glove for a prestigious New York depart-
ment store. Advertising copy written by Edward Bernays pointed out that it “is
being shown exclusively by Saks-Fifth Avenue and exploited as the only cou-
turier glove presented in Paris or New York. . . . It is pique sewn, sponsored for
semi-formal wear and priced at $8.”79 Bernays’s promotional work on American
markets now went beyond publicity to include helping bring products to market
that were expressly tailored to American consumers.
Shortly before this, in 1927, Bernays developed a historical and genealogical
thread in the House of Worth’s storytelling.80 This storyline encompassed the
historical character of the house, which was exemplified not only by its royal and
noble clients but also by the utterly dynastic character of the enterprise itself. For
example, a series of press releases dated spring 1927 reported that the Worth’s
grandchildren were “earnestly interested in the famous Worth scrapbook, which
originated when their great-grandfather Charles-Frederick Worth founded the
House of Worth.”81
A second thread in the narrative drew upon the position of Jacques Worth
as secretary of a prestigious Parisian trade organization, the Chambre Syndicale
de la Couture Parisienne. Bernays immediately sent a cable for U.S. release
upon Worth’s election in 1927.82 The ancient reputation and slightly faded aura
of Worth’s family business conjured away any impression of commercial over-
competitiveness. And Jacques Worth, who eventually led the trade organization
for two terms, also acted as a determined intermediary between the Paris and
New York fashion worlds. He traveled frequently to the United States with the
intent to develop agreements between French couturiers and American garment
manufacturers.
A third line of storytelling developed by Bernays referred back to the origins of
the definition of beauty in French craftsmanship, underlining the high quality of
the cut of Worth’s garments. This was well exemplified in the following caption:
A simple black frock, perfectly straight in cut with a narrow belt just a little above
the hip bone, does not attract particular attention except for its perfection of cut
until it is noted most carefully. Then one sees that instead of being made of some
ribbed material as a first glance might indicate, the whole frock is covered with close
narrow vertical stripes of silk braid all sewn by hand. . . . This is the sort of thing
which the woman, who can afford to pay a great deal for her clothes and does, is
demanding because it cannot be imitated by the cheaper machine-made copies of
Paris models.83
In February that year, Bernays’s office drafted an initial project outline that
aimed to develop the general publicity of the Velvet Fashion Group in various
media outlets, with an emphasis on the press and lectures. A “style service” was
set up as an authority that forecast velvet on the U.S. market via five channels:
a mat service to distribute selected style news items to the American media, a
style news bulletin addressed to the members of the Velvet Fashion Group, a style
bulletin for retailers, a photograph distribution service, and a lecture program.90
Called the Velvet Fashion Service and offering “analysis” of consumer “opinion,”
the new service did not actually track opinion about velvet, but rather collected
U.S. press clippings about it.91 Bernays’s fee for developing the Velvet Fashion
Service was $12,000 per year, with annual renewal.92 This and his work for Worth
roughly coincided in time.
In the spring of 1925, Bernays decided that he needed someone in Lyons to
deal with manufacturing and someone in Paris to handle fashion design matters.
It was on this basis that he organized his “velvet fashion service, openly supported
by the manufacturers.”93 According to Bernays, “Its first function was to establish
contact with the Lyons manufacturers and the Paris couturiers and to discover
what they were doing, to encourage them to act on behalf of velvet, and to help in
the proper exploitation of their wares.”94 As he so often did, Bernays delegated the
research: “an intelligent Parisian was enlisted” to visit couture houses, encourage
celebrities to wear velvet in public, and keep track of all velvet “events.”95
While working on the velvet commission, Bernays’s self-defined job was “gain-
ing public acceptance for new ideas.”96 From 1925, Bernays’s services developed
into an extensive forecasting service dedicated to the use of velvet. Bernays kept
his American clients informed through a weekly roneotyped PR bulletin.97 He
also circulated information to the U.S. press in order to ensure the presence of
velvet in the fashion media that would develop consumer interest in the prod-
uct. In Propaganda, Bernays recalled his confidence in his ability to inform the
consumer and thereby increase her desire for velvet; “the result was that what was
at first a trickle of velvet became a flood.”98 Although he did not publish velvet
sales statistics, Bernays observed, “A demand was slowly, but deliberately, created
in Paris and America.”99 He nevertheless did not foresee what would become a
major advertising difficulty after World War II: the media market became sat-
urated with velvet stories and advertising, which produced diminishing returns,
and the velvet market reached the point of saturation too.
Some of Bernays’s forecasts, featuring stars and socialites, did double-duty for
Worth and the Velvet Fashion Service, in both Paris and the United States, and
at the same time. Take, for example, this 1928 press release: “Tallulah Bankhead,
the American actress who has become such a success in London, recently chose a
heavy black velvet evening gown from Worth’s London branch.”100 Similar to the
services developed by Tobé and other forecasters, Bernays sought fashion and style
sources and then arranged for the publication of these sources. But whereas Tobé,
Parrish, and their colleagues tracked new fashions, Bernays focused on the diffu-
sion and promotion of a single fabric, velvet. Bernays was a specialist not only in
storytelling, but also in event creation, in this case aiming at building goodwill
concluded, “Modern business must have its finger continuously on the public
pulse.”107 Far from being contradictory, this statement shows that Bernays had
a perfect understanding of the mechanisms of fashion and was able to theorize
quite accurately its system of diffusion and reception. But Bernays’s own endeav-
ors in the fashion business have been mixed. Worth was not fully convinced of
Bernays’s talent. For the Velvet Fashion Group, Bernays undertook promotion
rather than actual forecasting. Bernays was a PR pioneer, but it is remarkable that
less famous fashion consultants like Tobé were actually more advanced in the
promotion of fashions.
Tobé developed forecasting in the opposite way from Bernays, not in support
of one product, but as permanent research for new products, lines, and colors.
She and her employees researched trends by observing what trendsetters were
wearing and how in order to understand what, among an already vast array of
products, manufacturers could reproduce and sell. She therefore used a more flex-
ible approach when seeking the owners of aesthetic capital, thereby prefiguring
the 1960s stylists and even—although working with different media—the trend
hunters of the present day. Tobé trendsetters could be socialites, but also random,
unknown passers-by at the beach or on the streets of Paris. Tobé’s practices pre-
figured contemporary developments in the fashion industry. Today, the links of
the fashion industry with the consumers have become strategic, and essential in
the development of new products.108
It is certainly relevant that while Tobé pursued a successful career in fashion
consulting, leaving behind her a sound enterprise still active today, Bernays did
not persist in the fashion sector. Instead, he accumulated expertise and moved on
to other clients and increasingly for cases linked to social and political causes.109
He had indeed understood fashion’s general mechanism well, but did not pos-
sess the fascination for and knowledge of the product that characterized Tobé.
Nonetheless, Bernays and Tobé were both key figures in the fashion business,
having been able to develop hegemonic tastes on international markets. Both
of their careers show how understanding and shaping globalizing aesthetics and
trends had become a profession.
Notes
1. Thorstein Veblen, The Theory of the Leisure Class (1899; Boston, 1973).
2. Bruno Remaury, “Les usages culturels du mot design,” Mode de recherche 9 (2010):
9.
3. Geoffrey G. Jones, Beauty Imagined, A History of the Global Beauty Industry
(Oxford, UK, 2011).
4. Claude A. Rouzaud, “Un problème d’intérêt national: Les industries du luxe” (PhD
diss., Université de Strasbourg, 1946), 45.
5. Thierry Maillet, “Sample Companies: The Unknown Mediator Companies in the
Fashion and Textile Industries” (unpublished paper, no date); and Maillet, “The
First French Prediction Companies were Textile Sample Companies in late 19th
Century,” paper presented at the Pasold Conference, University of Wolverhampton,
September 8–9, 2010. The author kindly shared these two manuscripts with me.
6. Regina L. Blaszczyk, The Color Revolution (Cambridge, MA, 2012). The author
kindly sent me her introduction and chapter 7 while her book was still in
production.
7. Forecasting also developed in other fields, most prominently in economics,
although there is no certainty that the fashion experts were invoking the eco-
nomic forecasting experience when calling themselves “forecasters.” See Walter
A. Friedman, “The Rise of Business Forecasting Agencies in the United States,”
Harvard Business School Working Paper 07-045, January 2007.
8. Véronique Pouillard, “Design Piracy in the Fashion Industries of Paris and
New York in the Interwar Years,” Business History Review 85 (Summer 2011):
319–44.
9. Theodor W. Adorno, Aesthetic Theory, trans. Christian Lenhardt (London, 1984).
10. Didier Grumbach, Histoires de la mode (Paris, 1993), 149–50.
11. Remaury, “Les usages culturels du mot design,” 6; Sophie Chapdelaine de
Montvalon, Le beau pour tous (Paris, 2009).
12. Jassica Daves, Ready-Made Miracle: The American Story of Fashion for the Millions
(New York, 1967), 15.
13. Interview with Terri Cook, New York, June 15, 2008.
14. Harvard Business School, Baker Library, Resseguie Collection (hereafter: Baker,
Resseguie), case 5, Women’s Wear Daily (hereafter: WWD), December 26, 1962,
15; italics in original.
15. Pamela Golbin, Madeleine Vionnet: Puriste de la mode (Paris, 2009).
16. “Business Notes,” New York Times (hereafter: NYT) (June 17, 1939): 32.
17. Among numerous examples, see Fashion Institute of Technology, Gladys Marcus
Library, Special Collections (hereafter cited as FIT), “Summing it up in brief—here
is our credo on skirt widths for the coming fall . . . ,” Tobé Report, June 2, 1938,
2D.
18. “Tobe Outlines Fashion Program in St. Louis Department Store,” WWD, Octo-
ber 21, 1929, sec. 1, p. 16.
19. “Tobe to Sail for Europe on July 7,” WWD, June 7, 1929, sec. 1, p. 18.
20. “Tobe Forum to Interpret New Apparel Styles,” WWD, August 28, 1939, sec. 1,
p. 1.
21. “2d Tobe Style Forum at Ritz March 25 to 27,” WWD, November 19, 1929, sec.
1, p. 2.
22. “New Incorporations,” NYT, May 21, 1930, 51.
23. “Corporate Changes,” NYT, January 31, 1931: 34.
24. “Mannish Styles Coming,” NYT, January 12, 1933, 32; “Coordination Retail
Topic,” NYT (June 2, 1929): N18; “Dry Goods Men See Need for Big Drive,”
NYT, June 20, 1930, 44.
25. “Herbert H. Davis,” NYT, March 13, 1934, 24.
26. “New Home of Tobe Officially Opened,” WWD, May 1, 1934, 2.
27. “Tobé,” Fortune, June 1934, 44.
28. “Many World Events Influencing Styles,” NYT, March 1, 1936, F9; “Business
Notes,” NYT, September 26, 1934, 30.
29. “Tobé,” Fortune, June 1934, 44.
30. “Tobe Works With Pathé on Picture,” WWD, June 19, 1934, sec. 1, p. 31.
31. “Sports Dresses Popular,” NYT, August 11, 1935, F10.
32. Roland Barthes, Système de la Mode (Paris, 1967).
33. “Designers Called Mass Dress Need,” NYT, December 20, 1949, 48.