"Nothing, Madam. We try to stay away from the new things."

That is quite funny.

It is sad that more of the current generation of merchants does not see the value of such an attitude.

Nice website, I've been reading through the articles but just now found the forum.

Yes, but…If the Brooks of 2006 goes any more downhill, its gonna be just another Banana Republic.

As requested, some more excerpts from the mid 20's through the mid 40's:

Oct. 5, 1946

Onward & Upward With the Arts about Webster's New International Dictionary. An editorial note gives credit to 15 "persons, committees, and business firms who have cooperated by furnishing information of great value. Two of the firms mentioned were Brooks Brothers and Hart Schaffner & Marx. Tells about the Time article in 1937, which created a controversy over the "all-wool policy, and the first appearance of a camel's hair coat." Time credited Hart, Schaeffner & Marx with the innovation, whereas a reader pointed out that they were Brooks Brothers "firsts." Correspondence with Hart, Schaffner & Marx regarding information supplied in the compiling of the dictionary. They concluded that the information had been taken from one of their pamphlets, called "Behind the Seems," the first edition of which was published in 1938. It was later brought up to date and modernized to fit the 1942 conditions."

June 23, 1945:

Two middle-aged women were at the Fourty-fourth entrance of Brooks Brothers when a young operative of ours happened by. "You don't want to go in that old place, Florence," one of them said. "Why, they don't even carry Arrow shirts!"

From June 15, 1940:

Talk story about Mr. Otto of Brooks Brothers, & Mr. Dietrich, of Tripler's who are on hand to tie ascots for bride grooms & ushers of fashionable weddings. Forty-firty years ago, the ascot tie was in every man's wardeove, & every man knew how to make the knot. Then it went out of fashion for three decades, & when it was revived, circa 1930, nobody knew how to make the knot. Bridegrooms & ushers turned to the store which had outfirred them. Mr. Otto is an asst. buyer and started to work for Brooks Brothers 46 years ago Mentions the famous men to whom he has ministered. Dietrich started to work for Triper's in 1899. He has always known hot tie ascots. He says that once he has demonstrated the proper method of tying an ascot, the men seem to be able to pick it up for themselves.

May 7, 1938

PROFIIE of Brooks Brothers, and history of the clothing firm. The firm was founded in 1818, by Henry Sands Brooks. Winthrop Brooks is president, and his son Frederick Brooks one of the first vice-presidents of the corporation. He never intended to be a clothier. After graduating from Yale in 1915, he married a girl he had met in Kentucky, & went out to Wyoming to raise cattle on a ranch given him by his father. Four years later he was brought back East by the death of his mother & his father's wish to have him enter the firm. His son Frederick Claiborne Brooks, has just started to work in Brooks mail-order department. There are no other fifth-generation Brookses, so it is more or less up to him to produce an heir.

Jan 22, 1938:

Man dropped into Brooks Brothers and bought himself a new overcoat. He intended to give his old coat, which was still in good repair away to some poor, deserving man, and he went in search of one. He first went to Bryant Park, which was deserted, then along 42nd St. all the way to Lexington Avenue. On 3rd Avenue he spotted two forlorn men outside a Coffee Pot. He explained that he wanted to give away his old coat adding. "I don't need it any more." One of the men turned to the other and said, "Come on, Harvey, let's get out of here."

Jan. 9, 1937:

There are only two stores in the city where you can buy men's high button shoes. Brooks Brothers, and Saks-Fifth Avenue. Saks produced something they called a cocktail show, suede-and-leather that makes you look as if you were wearing spats. They sell for twenty and Saks keep about fifty pairs in stock, selling them at a rate of a dozen a year.

Dec 24., 1927:


The garments sold by Brooks Brothers are always very conservative. When a salesman in another shop was asked for peaked lapels on a suit, he responded, "We leave all that flashy stuff to Brooks Brothers.

That was enjoyable over lunch. Horace you really do need to share more of these clever quips.

"Hardship" at Brooks Brothers can be suffered in the most unlikely of circles:  Years ago, I was being waited on by a BB salesman (No "salespeople" back then) when an older gentleman, who knew my salesman, approached him and asked when their next sale would take place.  I thought this question was rather audacious and inappropriate, and indicative of a certain penny-pinching trait, which was all the more ironic when the salesman's reply would be, "The sale starts next month, Mr. Rockefeller."  True story.

Marc

Here's the last installment of mentions of Brooks in the New Yorker.  At least according to the index of the CD-ROM.  Most, unfortunately,
give scant mention to Brooks.  Says something that in the last 2-3 decades, that Brooks wasn't the  "Talk of the Town".


from 1983:  A Yuppie manifests destiny:

A young stockbroker friend writes: I am leaving Wall Street soon after the first of the year for the West Coast. Now, the thing is how to adapt without quite leaving my comfy Northeast self behind and what to do with all the presents from my East Coast Christmas. I know I need a plan of action so here's one I'm still knocking the kinks out of: First week--Wear all white clothes together. Cut buttons off button-down shirts. Second week--Paint a line down each side of boxer shorts and wear for jogging on beach. Wrap tie around head warrior style and begin shopping for Porsche. Third week--Plant sprouts in attache case and invite beach girl to lunch. Use handkerchiefs from Brooks Brothers for napkins. Fourth week--Buy a cockatoo and a guitar. Cut up flannel shirts, sheets, and longies for wiping down new red Porsche. Braid hair a la Willie Nelson and top off with bow tie.

1994:

ANNALS OF HABERDASHERY about tailor Martin Greenfield, who has a 100-year-old factory in Brooklyn, and dresses Paul Newman, Conan O'Brien, Arnold Schwarzenegger, the President, and CEOs. He does this as a favor. You, he doesn't need. His clothing is sold through Brooks Brothers Golden Fleece collection, the Neiman Marcus collection, and Donna Karan's couture suits for men. Describes his modest office. He doesn't want to impress you with his office. He'll impress you with the garment. And what about Mr. Greenfield himself? He looks like a million bucks, doesn't he? He's a perfect 42 regular. Silver hair, wire-rimmed glasses, snowy-white shirt nicely accessorized with a blue-and-white Italian silk tie and heavy gold cufflinks. He came to American from Czechoslovakia on September 18, 1947. He had learned about tailoring in the concentration camps, of all places. Even in the camps, he likes to say, if your stripes looked good, everybody thought you must know someone, and you got treated better. And, according to Greenfield, it's the same way today.

1995:

SHOUTS & MURMURS about the writer sending his youngest son to college. We delivered our youngest child to college the other day. This was a moment my wife and I had been both dreading and anticipating for weeks, and it happened so swiftly, so unceremoniously, that the actual instant of separation took place almost before we could register it. We unloaded the station wagon: computer, trombone, popcorn maker, roller blades, and, wrapped in the original plastic bag, a Brooks Brothers time capsule--a navy blazer and gray flannels that can be dug up, mold-covered, from the closet four years from now. We met the roommates, shook hands, and stood around awkwardly for a while. We inspected the bunk beds--testing those gridlike springs that with only the slightest squeaks of protest have borne aloft the bodies of so many sleeping freshmen (excuse me, freshpersons)--and toured the unisex bathrooms. (They were--well, unisexual.) We waited in lines for a while, and we wrote a bunch of checks. Then we went out and wandered around town for a bit, and while we were waiting at a corner for a light to change, the nest suddenly emptied. A quick hug, a wave, a promise to call, and, in an instant, he was gone. As it happens, my son is attending the same institution of higher learning where my parents dropped me off some thirty years ago. They've both been dead for years now, but I found myself wondering what they would have made of parents like the couple I saw, in matching shorts, T-shirts, sunglasses, and Tevas, lugging an Oriental rug between them while their daughter trailed behind, bearing a cocktail shaker. Or what would they have made of the safe-sex display in my son's dormitory, featuring not only free condoms but free dental dams and instructions in dental-dam etiquette? As night falls, we make a big effort. We turn the radio up full blast, put on the bedsheets, and do the toga dance across the quad. It isn't as much fun as we'd hoped. We miss the kids.

1998:

PERSONAL HISTORY about the writer, and his father's wardrobe... When I think about my father’s long and eventful life, my mind’s eye fills up with his silhouette at different times over the years, as defined by his beautifully tailored Savile Row suits. I see the closet where his suits hang. Viewed from his dressing room, my father’s closet appears to be the ordinary, well-appointed closet of a successful businessman. It isn’t until you stick your head inside that you become aware of a much larger collection of suits, hanging on a motorized apparatus, the kind you see at a dry cleaner’s, extending up through the ceiling of the second floor and looming into the attic, which is filled with a lifetime of his clothes. Tells about writer's ill-treatment of clothing his father gave him.  They did not interact by camping or playing ball, but his father was happy, when the time came, to offer him fashion advice.  Tells about visiting Brooks Brothers, etc. with his father, and about buying an expensive Italian suit with his own money; his father would have preferred that writer wear his English bespoke suits...  His father wanted him to be an investment banker, and the suits he gave writer did indeed project an image of authority and wealth... Writer tells about his favorite inheritance—a Nehru jacket made by Blades of London, from 1968...The prize of my collection is the blue velvet Nehru smoking jacket, which I inherited six or seven years ago. I began wearing it at Christmas, more or less as a joke, but each year I look for more excuses to put it on. Last Halloween, I went to a party as Austin Powers, but somewhere in the course of the evening the role I was playing blended in with a natural predilection for the costume, until I wasn’t wearing the blue Nehru in the spirit of Halloween anymore. Believing myself to have been a slob all these years, I realized I’d turned out to be a fop instead.  I would dress like Austin Powers all the time if I could get away with it.

1999:

A REPORTER AT LARGE about Brooks Brothers’ attempts to modernize its image.

2004:

ANNALS OF FASHION about Georges de Paris, the tailor to every President since Lyndon Johnson. . . Georges de Paris dresses beautifully at all times. . . He has never owned a pair of jeans of khakis. . . He never wears shirts with button-down collars. Tells about Brooks Brothers, which had outfitted almost every President from Lincoln to Ford, stopping making custom clothing in 1976. . . Reagan was de Paris’s favorite Presidential customer and, in his opinion, the best dressed one. George W. Bush runs a close second. Discusses his relations with other Presidents. . . American Presidents do not tend to put their stamp on the sartorial world. . . But every now and then there are modest innovations. Reagan made the brown suit acceptable again. Lists other politicians who are customers. He does not work only for the high and mighty. Tells about a taxi driver who bought a $4500 suit. De Paris also creates sequined costumes for acrobats and go-go dancers. . . Writer observes de Paris at work over the course of two days. Tells about his suggestions for flattering choices in suits, noting that chubbier men should wear two-button suits and that brown suits should never be worn with white shirts. . . Tells about the process of creating a suit from selecting the fabric to measuring, cutting, fitting and sewing. One suit takes de Paris three days to complete. He charges between $2500 and $4500 depending on the material. . . Describes the back of the shop where the work is done and the front of the shop where the customer is “seduced.” Writer describes a series of customers who come into the shop, including a real estate developer being fitted for a blazer and a woman who was given to gaining and losing weight  having her clothes adjusted. . . Because de Paris has no family, he works all the time.  He often eats at the Old Ebbitt Grill. He does not plan to retire until he is 95. . . Tells about Beckenstein’s in New York where he goes to buy fabric. . . Over the years, de Paris has developed a somewhat dark view of humankind, or at least of tailors. . . Tells about his childhood in France, and the assassination of his father, a judge. He came to America because of a woman he had been corresponding with. She told him she looked like Brigitte Bardot, but when he arrived, he discovered she did not. He had given her all his money and when he refused to marry her, he became homeless. Eventually, he found work as a tailor and, after a few months, he opened up his own shop. . . Tells about a young man coming into the store to buy a worsted wool suit. Describes his exchange with de Paris. . .

The last line is noteworthy:

http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.paulsann.org/img/memosig1.gif&imgrefurl=http://www.paulsann.org/letters.htm&h=52&w=350&sz=2&hl=en&start=40&tbnid=mX7kJfRxlasfgM:&tbnh=18&tbnw=120&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dbrooks%2Bbrothers%2Bshirt%26start%3D20%26ndsp%3D20%26svnum%3D10%26hl%3Den%26lr%3D%26client%3Dsafari%26rls%3Den%26sa%3DN

The odd appeal of these quotes only makes me pine for what's gone.

And not simply as in 'no longer available at BB'.

As does Flusser's section on BB in Style and the Man.

Egad, I've gone traddy.