Jessica Pallay, Getting the Soft Shoulder:  the designer who discovered Ralph Lauren and brought Burberry to the US sounds off on tailored clothing.   AND BROUGHT BURBERRY TO THE U.S. SOUNDS OFF ON TAILORED CLOTHING
Jessica Pallay. DNR.  Aug 29, 2005. »

Norman Hilton has returned to the place where it all started. The 86-year-old men's wear legend is sitting in a hotel lobby, just blocks away from his alma matter, Princeton University, recalling the inspiration that began his tailored clothing business nearly 60 years ago.

Despite his onset of Parkinson's disease, his memory is acute as he tells the story of his label's birth. "When I came to Princeton for college, my mother had dressed me in the look of the time -- jackets with broad shoulders, high-waisted pants," he remembers. "The guys that came from prep schools wore soft-shouldered tweed jackets, narrow-fitting pants without pleats. They were the big men on campus. They were the guys I wanted to imitate."

Hilton did much better than imitate them. He built a clothing empire around the Ivy League look of soft-shouldered, finely tailored suits. He discovered a young Ralph Lauren. He introduced the Burberry phenomenon to the U.S. And along the way, he established himself as an iconic American designer.

Hilton's first sport coats hit retailers in 1947, constructed of Scottish tweed and manufactured in a Linden, N.J., factory. As the sport coats sold, he realized he'd hit an untapped nerve in the American consumer. Hilton soon introduced two-piece suits, expensively priced at $85, and watched Ivy Leaguers empty his racks. "My suits were designed to be light, comfortable and flexible. They didn't have stiffness because they weren't padded," he explains. "At first, retailers' general reaction was to reject them, but by the late '50s, Ivy League had become a movement."

It wasn't much later, in 1967, when Hilton and his company's vice-president, Peter Strom, noticed "these beautiful wide ties," during appointments with retail accounts. "Men were paying $35 for these ties during a time when the average tie went for $2 to $5. I told Peter, `Go down and get me this kid that makes these wide ties!"'

That "kid" -- Ralph Lauren -- came onboard and developed lines for Norman Hilton as well as for his own Polo Ralph Lauren label. A year later, Hilton gave Lauren his big break, investing $50,000 in the Polo Ralph Lauren company. "Even in his twenties, he had creative genius that was uncanny," recalls Hilton. "He had a sense of what the public would react to energetically. I've never seen anyone like him since."

And today, adds Hilton, "Ralph's got an enormous business, but the brand still reflects his tastes, his perspectives and his looks."

Ralph Lauren would not be the only brand Hilton introduced to Americans, though. In 1972 the Burberry label could be found only on raincoats and at two retailers in this country. On the recommendation of Barneys New York's Fred Pressman, Burberry approached Hilton to spread its message abroad. "All Americans knew about them was that they made really expensive English raincoats," Hilton says of the Burberry label. "But as soon as I saw the merchandise, I knew we could sell it here."

In order to pull it off, Hilton persuaded Burberry to stop pushing its product and push its lifestyle instead. With Hilton's encouragement, the company pulled its advertisements picturing a sullen man on a bridge wearing a raincoat. Burberry brought in famed photographer Patrick Litchfield to create advertising showing "the Burberry way of life" -- elegant English aristocracy enjoying a privileged existence.

Hilton says the result won him a 12-year stint at Burberry, during which time the firm's plaid scarf became one of the most recognizable status symbols in fashion.

Now retired and living in Sea Island, Georgia, Hilton still keeps his eye on the men's wear business, which he says has evolved into something quite different from what it was in his earlier years.

The days of great designers are over, he says, particularly in America. Today, Hilton believes, no single designer can reach the American audience, broad and filled with so many different tastes. "The market is too balkanized now, so fashion designers have to go after niche markets," he explains. "I don't think one designer can appeal to everyone. It's all about brands now -- brands that can reach across many tastes."

The tailored clothing market, too, has gone through immense changes, and Hilton speculates that the category will continue to shrink. "I don't think men's suits can be revitalized. Tailored clothing is expensive and cumbersome. If you don't have to wear it, why would you want to?" He's the perfect illustration of what he's saying -- the tailored clothing legend, today dressed in a white polo shirt and khaki shorts.

Still, Hilton concedes, "some men will always wear suits because they must. Executives, lawyers -- the guys at the top -- as well as young men who need to look distinguished. That market is still full of opportunity."

Although Hilton's father, a manufacturer and retailer, encouraged the young Norman to be a lawyer or doctor or professor, the grown-up Norman is proud that his own son became a men's wear designer. In fact, Nick Hilton, who owns a men's specialty store in Princeton, has just relaunched the Norman Hilton label, dormant for more than five years. Though Norman Hilton has witnessed greatness in design and retail throughout his lifetime, he says, "Yesterday I saw my son's store, and that was the most precious moment in my career."