Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise., 1938-12-09

Ought she to leave? Was the inter-
view finished? But something how
cred in the air :. or was it trembling
on his lips? She waited =.
Perhaps some Saturday afternoon
the beginning of next month we're
going to close at one on Saturdays
He stopped.
Alive in every fiber of her being,
she prayed for him to continue -.
II was thinking it might be good
idea for me to take you out to the
mills"
The magic words were uttered,
words she had been waiting forI He
and she-skimming over the coun-
tryside-together!
He looked up from his little circles.
His mood seemed to change.
"But perhaps that won't be neces-
sary. The manufacturers can give
you plenty of information"
She was hurled from Mount Par
nassus into the abyss again.
That buyer has to eat, drink, and
sleep being buyer, Ann was present
ly to learn. Her definite hours were
half past nine to half past five, it's
true-but you don't watch a clock to
be good buyer! She was to discover
that, exhaustively, exhaustingly.
And love every minute of it!
L. -, -
Museum of Metropolitan Art. The
lectures fascinated her. She went
down to Washington Street, absorbed
everything possible about "baby Irish"
filet", "Val" and "Venise."
She studied quality of linens, laces
being known by weights of thread,
and also by their widths.
About silks, too, great deal had
to be known. The various glueing
processes in various silks, for instance.
She would go to the great stockroom
in the store to see the heavily bur-
Tapped bags arrive from China with
the heavy gray silks that would be
finished in America, treated with the
glueing process, made white, losing
lots of body in the finishing, and later
dyed in pastel colors and fashioned
in robes or negligees for her depart
ment.
Ann also learned to go out in the |
wholesale field and make her own
bargains with the manufacturers.
Initiative. Inventiveness, Knowl-
edge of product. These were what
differentiated one buyer from anoth-
er.
"A department is like a sick child.
You try to cure it." The merchandise |
manager had told her that.
From a twenty-five dollar a week
assistant-buyer in the lingerie, Ann
was promoted finally to full-fledged
buyer at a salary of forty-a-week for
a start. Like a fortune, it seemed,
though it meant added responsibility
and work.
The silk manufacturer she dealt
with chiefly was handsome man of
around forty or so, named Tim Bur-
lington. He had no designer. So Ann
made her own sketches and took them
to him, with the area restriction that
in New York City they were to be
supplied only to her own store.
Crepes. Flat crepes. Crepe-de-
chine. Crepe-backed satin. Pussy
willow. The whole gamut. Lovingly
she fingered them all.
She designed lingerie for the de-
butante. Lingerie for the working
woman. Lingerie for the hard-up.
Lingerie for the rich. Frivolous lin
gerie, in chiffons, merrily beribboned
for the giddy ones. Staple lingerie
for the few old-fashioned mothers and
grandmothers left.
Ann was a wizard at design
She knew what women wanted. 1t
had been no idle boast of hers.
Rameses, the good-looking window
dresser, had his art working on all
eight cylinders when AIMS goods were
to be displayed. Beautiful negligees
and nightgowns enticed the eyes of
passers-by slips, teddies, mules,
panties, brassieres, fragile as gossa-
mer.
"He favors Ann Delafield. She
vamps everyone she comes in contact
with. She chases them. 1t isn't
fair"
Thus Brenda Selz to Renita Par
rish, adding spitefully: "And she's
writing her avn ads for the Sunday
layout, too! 1 saw her this morning
as was passing the Advertising, in
with Gordon Gavin in his cubicle, and
their heads together, as thick as two