Maimon, The Outcast

I'm continuing to learn as I make my way through books about Maimonides.  As I said, he can't win.  He was too smart, too unique, too out of step with the Jews, too definite and without compromise.  He threatened too many people; and the traditional Kabbalistic/Ashkenazic/Gaonic ways of life were against him.  He wanted for the Jews, what the Jews didn't want. His intentions were the best--for the glory of Hashem (God), and "all Israel."  However, "all Israel" wasn't on the bandwagon with him.

One of his fundamental goals was to organize and settle the totality of age-old Talmudic dissension, controversy, and dispute, henceforth and forever more; essentially, he wanted to separate the wheat from the chaff, deleting argument from Jewish law (halacha); he wanted the Jewish world to be able to cleanly and easily grasp the crux of the law without having to stumble and meander through all the arguments preceding it.  The Jews, however, problematic and divisive to the core, had to argue with someone, so they disputed Maimon instead of Talmud--exactly what he was trying to eradicate!!!

The Jews needed to stick with what they knew--Talmud the old-fashioned way; a "mishmash" of debate. Interestingly, the Jews accepted Judah ha Nasi and his Mishneh; they accepted Joseph Karo and the Shulchan Aruch (Set Table--rules of behavior).  But when Maimon came along in between the two, isolated there in the southern Sephardic/assimilated Graeco-Roman-Moslem world, it was a "Thanks but no thanks."  Maimon was perceived as being too radical.

I love Maimonides.  I understand why he wasn't accepted.  I respect that.  He wasn't wrong; he was different.  He was writing for "the Bunch," and at the same time, he wasn't one of them.  Remember about community--how one has to fall in line.  How community keeps one in line if one falls out, or ultimately rejects him, altogether.  Snius, snius--(Modesty, modesty: Humility). 

That's the answer.  Right there.  Maimon didn't fit the mold.  It wasn't that he was arrogant, or mean, or anything that was a negative.  He was just different, and too bright to know or reckon with how deeply his work and persona impacted others.  He was aware of others' disdain regarding him, and their arguments concerning his dedication to rational discourse. Yet, he hoped that in time--the future--Jewish perspective no longer would be personally directed at him, and objectively would swing toward his way of thinking, instead. It did not.

His was THE greatest mind during all of the Middle Ages (not just amidst the Jews, but everyone)--on a par with Einstein, easily; albeit much better rounded than an Einstein.  Maimonides was a freak, an outcast; too brilliant for the masses--even the educated masses--to grasp. Astounding man.

The truth is, the Jews didn't want him because his expediency, clarity, and organization of thought threatened their established, dithering ways. Maimon, in his zeal for codification and rationalism, was about more than just regimenting the Talmud and Jewish law.  Ironically, and Jewishly, he was about unraveling the "Jewish mind" without realizing it.  He wanted a kind of linear thinking, in a Jewish world that was ponderously circular in ideology and thought. Essentially, he wanted the Jews to think like the Greeks: they were not able, as they were Jews.  There is a fundamental difference between the two cultures in terms of mindset.  This is one element that Maimonides was unable to grasp, in my opinion; quite possibly because he was Jewish, himself.

Perhaps, one could say the Greek mind was about, "either this or that." The Jew is about, "Well, maybe a little this and maybe a little that; but then again, maybe not..."   For the Greek, everything has to add up mathematically; for the Jew, there are always two possibilities; unless there is need for one more.

Alas, Aristotle and Maimon, of the crisp and decisive Greek mentality, must have had fits regarding such willy nilly back and forth discussions and debates.

Thus, Maimon became read and studied as a Jewish philosopher, and a commentator on Jewish law.  His effort to re-write and define the Talmud, was acknowledged, but not rendered authoritative. A first-rate second-stringer at best, others were studied long before him--if he is studied at all. He ran rings around every single Jewish scholar who ever lived.  Even now. But it didn't matter.  He wasn't part of the Bunch.  And that, in Judaism as with all tribes, is the bottom line.

I read about him with tears in my eyes.  It is so hard to be different.  It really is very lonely at the top...

"Hypers, Nancy!" George ejaculated. Response: Political Incorrectness In Nancy Drew Books

[ The followimg post is a response to an article : Was Nancy Drew Politically Incorrect? ]

In every single thing I do, I am a detective.  Some people call that "doing one's homework."  From the moment I arise until I drop, I am a grade-A busybody; whether it is about medicine, law, education, business, or just trying to survive in today's world.

Nancy Drew's, some in first editions (yes, really), have a place of honor on my bookshelves.  I have them printed on cheaper paper for the sake of saving money to support the Second World War; I have them with R.H. Tandy's marvelous illustrations both in glossy black and whites printed from 1929 through the '30's, in pen and ink's from the late '30's and '40's, in their colored covers.  I also have the later illustrators who cheapened and simplified Nancy's style and persona.  It was R.H. Tandy who gave her her beauty.  Not to mention that of chums, Helen Corning, Bess Marvin, and George Fayne; with loyal housekeeper, Hannah Gruen, and Dad--Carson Drew. Remember???

The books, complete with running boards on automobiles that required blankets for "motoring" as there were yet to be car heaters; a whopping speed limit of 20 miles per hour; rumble seats in roadsters; or "electrical ice-boxes" as the term "refrigerator' was brand new; were also very real. That is to say, the books reflected the times in which they were written, as the author states.

There neither was nor is absolutely nothing wrong with them.  Nothing.

As several of the folks commented below, it wasn't about "racism" or "anti-Semitism'" in those days.  It was about reality: The way things were.  That's called "HISTORY."   The books, with the nom de plume of Carolyn Keene, were well written--for third and fourth graders--full of fun vocabulary, settings, adventures, and new things for young girls who wanted to be grown-up's.  In those days, when a girl like Nancy was 16, she was already running a household and solving mysteries.  As the books progressed, and our society was ever more protective of its children, Nancy's age upped to 18.  She had to be more mature to do all of those things; it wasn't so much about time passing, as it was about our society becoming less mature.

The bigotry and prejudice, if one wants to look for it, is there--"good and plenty."  But you know, it's how things were.  As the author writes, rather than hide reality from children, talk with them about it.  Learn from it.  Be glad that Nancy offers so much in so many dimensions--historically, politically, socially, culturally--in addition to the simple plots that were ever so adventuresome!  I still "blush to the fingertips" when something exciting is upon me. Don't you??

If one wants to address the 'Drew books, rather than frown upon the culture of the times, one might also take a look at Nancy as a top-drawer feminist--in fact, as are all of the women in these books.  Take Mr. Drew's sister: Eloise Drew, unmarried, a career woman, and living quite successfully in New York.  I believe Aunt Lou was a practicing attorney, and helped Nancy on more than one case...  See, it wasn't about deliberate attacks on this group or that; again, it was about society, commentary, the culture; and authors who used--yes--the ideal Girl Scout, as the epitome of the role model for Nancy's character.

This author did a very good job of discussing the slants in Nancy's world.  I have little doubt that those same slants were in far more books and series--e.g.: Mark Twain--than just Nancy Drew.  Hide the truth of the times, and they will re-live themselves.  Expose them for what they were, and they're valuable  lessons.

Nancy Drew is one of The Best aspects of my life.  She is alive and well, and with me every single day.  I am so glad that the author was as generous as she was, and wise.  Sometimes, people aren't so kind.  I have no patience with the politically correct: It's one thing to be courteous, polite, and civil. It's quite another to hide the truth, and live in a world that isn't or wasn't, or will never be: That is not Nancy Drew; it is the Emperor's New Clothes.

Moses ben Maimon: Cool Dude

"I got a crush on you, Sweetie Pie.  All the day and night-time, hear me sigh..."

Mr. Maimon as I call him, whose name was Moses, son of Maimon (also a distinguished rabbi) additionally is referred to as RaMBam (Rabbi Moses Ben Maimon), or Maimonides.  He lived around the Mediterranean--Spain, Morocco, Palestine, Egypt--from 1135 or 1138, until his death, in 1204.  He was a fox.

He was beyond brilliant, and he was a Renaissance man before there was a Renaissance.  He belonged with the likes of Leonardo, Copernicus, Galileo, and as many greats of the future as one can recall.  St. Thomas Aquinas was inspired by Maimonides and used his work to better understand nature, science, and the realm of God in Christianity. Maimon was without question, the greatest thinker of the Middle Ages. Even today, it's difficult to find an equal who would match the genius and this remarkable and truly worldly philosopher.

Mr. Maimon, in addition to writing extensive commentary on the Mishnah--part of the Hebrew Talmud or books of law based on the Hebrew Scriptures or Torah--and organizing virtually all of said Jewish law until that time--was actually a physician, a scientist, an astronomer, a nutritionist, and a worldly philosopher.  He practiced medicine, was court physician to Al Qadi al Fadil, whose father was the incomparable Saladin--magnificent medieval ruler.

Word has it, dates aside, that King Richard the Lion Heart, in the midst of his travels during the Crusades, wanted Maimonides in his own court; but that for the times, Maimon felt his safety was in better hands with the Muslims.  Remember, this was the time of the Crusades, and expulsions/executions of Jews throughout the European civilized world. Strange bedfellows, eh?

As a physician, Maimonides was dedicated to medication, cures for multiple diseases and conditions, and pharmacological study as well as its organization.  The Maimonidean Oath for doctors, is practiced today. His methodology was a precursor for pharmaceutical practice.  He was a health nut, and was firm about diet and exercise.  The famous portrait of him that most see, is a contrivance no doubt, and has been duplicated multiple times.

However, Maimon could not have been heavy-set, or beefy in construct, as it wasn't who he was, nutritionally.  Rather than looking like Chef Boyardee, Moses Maimonides had to have been slender. He walked back and forth to his offices from his home, on a daily basis, saw patients, saw the Vizier in his palace, wrote voluminously, corresponded, spoke publicly and traveled to do so, and led a very active and full life with little time for food or rest.  It's difficult to imagine that Mr. Maimon would be anything but slim.

He was a student of Greece, Rome, and Islam, living in that geographical area.  He was not familiar with northern European thought or influence to any great extent.

His hero was Aristotle: pure and simple. There were others such as Averroes.  But the Greeks were his mentors.  He had virtually no contemporaries with whom he consulted; and virtually no Jews.   Reason was always his guide; nature was his companion.  Maimon wasn't just a Jewish philosopher who sat in a room and contemplated.  He was out and about with the people, working for a living.  He was involved with what he wrote, he practiced what he thought.  His ideas were based not only on his readings, but on his experiences in the real world.

In all of Judaism, I cannot think of a better role model for myself.  Mr. Maimon tried to re-construct Judaism in order to make the spiritual, rational.  He tried to justify God's role in a scientific world.  He did not have the backing of the kind of power or money to be able to do that; but what he left Judaism and the rest of those who were familiar with him--the western medieval world as a whole, and centuries beyond--was a dedication to a God of rational--again, rather than spiritual--existence and rationale that made such a universe possible.

He appeared to some to be arrogant and self-centered.  Instead, it's more likely that he was just himself, and so far above others' ability to comprehend him, that the appearance of superiority was really just honesty. As they say, "It isn't bragging if it's the truth..."

He was quick-tempered, had no patience for idiocy or foolishness; he was not interested in people who couldn't "connect the dots." He did his best to withhold unkindnesses toward others in personal meetings; however, he was candid in his writings or when he confided with certain contemporaries, re: what he felt to be blatant stupidity.  He was schooled in multiple languages, and was at home in Hebrew, Greek, and Arabic, just for openers.

He had to have had an eidetic/photographic memory.  He was funny, witty, had fine senses of humor, sarcasm, and wit; he was very kind, patient with those who were ingenuous and mattered; he was dedicated, responsible, and wise.  In short, he was simply "the best of the best."

When he died, Mr. Maimon's books were burned by many, despite the honor and homage that he received when he was alive.  The fierce discipline to maintain a rational point of view toward God, rather than a simpler unquestioning other-worldly spiritual one, was simply too difficult and too abstract for most to manage.  People wanted a personal god who attended them.  Maimon's in actuality, did not.

Maimon understood that God could not be all of the anthropomorphic components that the Hebrew Scriptures espoused; and he also understood that God, out of respect for humanity, could not intervene in lives; thus, he felt that prayer was really for he who prayed, and not for God, at all.  There was nothing God, as Maimon defined Him, could do.  In order for man to have free will, God could not intervene, deus ex machina, in a person's life. Rather God was present as form, rather than matter--the Greeks--the essences of all.  It was a tough road for the average Joe in the marketplace or herding the flocks.

Again, make no mistake: Moses ben Maimon was one of the greatest innovators that the world has ever known.  He did his best to organize Judaism--the origin of Western religion and thus one of the initial elements of Western civilization-- into something intelligent and tangible.  Rather than tons and tons of arguments, dissensions, and loose documents from the past, Jewish law for the first time, became a practical guide that could be followed. He did the same with medicine, science, diet, pharmacology, nature, preventative medicine, and with God.  He cared, he tried, he did his best.  He was an incredibly sensitive man who was highly in tune, whether or not he appeared that way on the surface.  He worked at all things until he died.  He was devoted to improving the world:  His way, certainly; but isn't that the way we all are... I will speak of him again.

I am fortunate enough to have many heroes.  Today, people don't believe in heroes.  Without heroes, there is no society to emulate, no goals, no role models, no understanding of what could be, no direction or a value system; a warning signal that is a presage regarding the end of a culture.  However, Moses ben Maimon, is as real and heroic to my mind, as any individual whoever lived.

The Old Tailor: Made to Measure Magazine

(This article was originally written in the late '80's.)

When I was a child, I used to see him there, sitting in a non-descript corner, hunched over his machine. Acknowledging my father's watchful presence more than my brown-eyed curiosity, he would look up and nod as I would observe him cut the thread between his teeth.

Worn Singers--maybe six of them--and an old Pfaff, were stuffed into that back room like desks in a schoolhouse.  Instead of books, cones of sewing thread, boxes of buttons, rolls of braid, filled the shelves. And, like mollified students, they all sat there, the numbers of Eastern Europe engraved into their faces, their clothing belonging to a different time.

Trousers and vests hung on skinny men like jackets tossed on barbed wire fence posts.  Faded flowered silks (for there were no polyesters in those years) threatened to cover trundling women as though they were skins on bulging sausages.  They were old then--grey, stoop-shouldered, an dreamless--sewn into the linings of their world.   The years eventually took most of them, but the old tailor remained loyal.

I suppose he was only twenty, in those groping times when the world was righting itself from the War.  I think it must have been that I was so young, that he appeared so old. When he died, he was sixty-six; my memories are from many years ago.

His first name had been anglicized and he had a last name infiltrated with Polish phoneticisms--an infinite number of  "z's."  Medium build, medium height, his pride kept his spine as straight as a measuring stick all his life. But from the close work of the stitching, a roundness had grown into his shoulders, softening that very formal European discipline into an almost friendly stoop.

His eyes were quick to note a mistake, observant to follow a line.  I cannot recall their color, for there was no contrast to the shading of his face. Everything was grey.  The hair, straight and combed to one side, covered his baldness.  Occasionally, when he lost himself in his art, a strand or two would slip down over his brows, creating a casualness that might have made him a part of this world.  He had a sharp Aryan nose, and a large brown mole on his cheek that rose up in a rounded dome like a used pencil eraser. He always wore a too-wide tie and a too-tight coat; he always wore a hat--straw in the summer, felt in the winter.

He worked for my father for over forty years.  He did just about everything, because he was trained in the days when "everything" was what one did; when loyalty to the superior mattered; when quality was more than a quick stitch of a union label.  He had apprenticed as a boy, I imagine, in pre-War Poland.  Afterward, he came here, bringing with him a needle and thread, a pair of shears, and his accent. Nothing more.

In the early years, he did the master tailoring.  Hitch it up here; let it out there.  Dart. Pleat. No gusset. Watch the inseam.  This one is a portly--don't confuse him with a stout.  Sleeve lengths to match.  Careful when you cut, now--those lapels are getting narrower.  Single-breasted for him; double-breasted takes too much cloth and he's too broad across the chest.  Not too much padding in the shoulder.  Slimmer leg, please...

Eventually, the tailoring business became more of an eccentricity than a practicality.  As the shop became a factory, and the company grew to a corporation, the old tailor, in order to continue to survive, should have changed, also.  But he never grew or learned any more than his youth had taught him.  His pessimism over a lost world invaded his dulled being.  Now, they used the word "manufacturer" instead of "tailor."  It was longer, maybe. Fancier.  But to him, its real meaning was death.

He tried to leave once, when industrial replaced hand, when one suit became one hundred, when the single name "piecework" replaced the completeness of the whole garment.  He had in mind to buy his own shop--a small corner, downtown.  At last, out from under my father's shadow, he would be his own man.  Butler becoming boss.  His shop would be in the tradition of his world--suiting fabrics, shirt weights.  A small press in back with a good steam iron ought to do it.  Of course, a really good machine or two.  Maybe, if it went well, a helper.  But most of all, he, the old tailor, would celebrate his trade and his skill.  Tape measure around the neck--like a priest before the altar--he would dress the mannequin to approximate size. Clip the threads.  Check the button holes.  Brush the shoulders.  Amen.

He had purchased the shop with his savings.  Received my father's best wishes.  Was ready to own the life for which he had been trained.  But he had a wife--and at the proper moment, her greed coerced her into gambling.

If, for a few months, there actually had been a color to the old tailor's eyes, it was never seen again.  Only grimness and waiting and manufacturing remained.

He needed a job and my father needed a good man to run the shop.  "Shop" didn't mean the whole building, but those rooms confined to the cutting, sewing, and pressing of the garments.  My father never did find that "good man."  But the old tailor was there.  And, he did his best, I suppose.  Mostly pacing between this girl and that, watching how they sewed, wondering what to complain about next.

The flowered dresses were replaced with low-cut blouses and too-tight pants.  The seven machines reproduced themselves into twenty and thirty. The presses became the pressing room.  Electric cutting knives whirred, two and three at a time.  The women had become girls, and the Europeans had been replaced with Spanish, Indian, and Oriental blood.

It wasn't pride anymore.  It was survival and endurance.  Kibbitz with the girls.  Punch in--punch out.  A day's work. Most of all, disdain for modernity. Disgust with the distance between a man and his work; a love affair the old tailor testily missed.  It didn't matter how good the garment was.  To him, it wasn't right--it wasn't done with tenderness, or respect for the beauty of the fit.  The caring, the sighing, the becoming-at-one-with, were not there, any more.

The tailor made a poor foreman.  My father knew it.  The tailor, I imagine, knew it, but didn't care.  I believe for him, it was a simple transfer of professions: From creating, to observing others create.  The world had passed him by.

Almost too late, my father grew tired of the bigness of his work.  He sold the factory, and returned to the smaller shop.  A staff of nothing: Except that he still needed the old tailor.  Only a few days a week. Alterations. Hand stitching. A custom measurement now and then.  It was here that I saw the old gentleman gradually fail, fall apart, and finally die.

The manufacturing of suits had become the making of uniforms--for hotels, restaurants, and specialty groups. He would still take the bus each day to and from his torture, where he would be surrounded by brightly colored cocktail dresses and Mexican waitress skirts, hot-pants, and chambermaid garb.  Once again, rounded over his machine that was lit cautiously with a small refrigerator bulb, he would sit and baste. Snapping the thread between his teeth as he used to do, forty years ago.  He knew the feel of a good wool gab.  He could line up the buttons on a jacket by sight.  He ripped and re-sewed with the steadiness of the years.

I always thought he liked the ripping best, somehow.  When it wasn't his own work, it was a delight to correct.  To remind the others of what real tailoring and genuine workmanship were about.

The months passed. He muttered a lot.  At first to himself.  Then to the cloth.  Finally, to the audience of the presses.

His end was those hot steaming machines.  Mentally, he had grown quite slow, old memories stitching over the cloth of reality.  My father would have retired him, but the tailor's wife still gambled away their money. There was no other means for him to survive, but to work.  All that was available now that his skills were fading, were the presses.

He was as good at them as any other aspect of the trade. He was content to come in, fold his coat carefully on the chair, and place his hat neatly on their top.  He would smoke a cigarette and go to the back, where amidst conversations with himself, he would smooth a pant or two, using all his strength to pull down those big mangles and buck presses.

He worked until his last day.  Dignified, formal, polite.  As gracious to the imagined voices he heard as to the workers behind the cutting tables.  As critical of the twentieth century, as anyone I've known.  Vacant and shyly droll, always the Old World, in a tattered and worn sort of way.  His clothes never changed from those early, ill-fitted years, despite the thousands of hours he spent caressing the seams of others.

I felt sad when he died, not so much for him as for me.  Clearly, he was just too tired.  I wondered if, had I tried, I could have known him better.  I wondered if, had I succeeded, there would have been any greater depth to him than what I had observed.  The old tailor, like a worn suit of clothes, may well have been a disguise for someone very different underneath.

A Rose By Any Other Name: The National Association of the Deaf (NAD) Broadcaster

This article was originally written  for the above paper in June of 1991.  What is interesting is that not much as changed in almost 23 years.  People are still trying to figure out what to call themselves, hoping their labels will forecast how they ought to be judged.  The reality, of course, is that it is the individual who matters; the nomenclature and stereotypes will come and go.  Also, society will judge as it wishes, and all the fancy labels in the world cannot change what the public wants to think, once the public makes up its mind...  

I read, with some interest, Ms. Kailes' February, 1991 article on the use of language.  I don't disagree with the author and her viewpoint, but lately, I find so may people concerned with what to call each other; I wonder if the focus isn't shifting away from how to treat each other.

The American Indian/Redskin is now the docile Native American; the Oriental has morphed to the Asian; the once Colored then Negro then Black has become the African American; the Mexican is now the Hispanic or Latino, depending on specific geography of origin, despite sameness of language.

For awhile, the Deaf were the Hearing Impaired until it was decided that the oral Deaf would remain Hearing Impaired, and the signing Deaf would return to their original name and be just Deaf.  The handicapped want to be the disabled, or the challenged.

I wonder how the cultural anthropologists and sociologists manage to keep up!

The problem with "disabled" is the implication of time and brokenness/non-usable-ness; i.e., once one used to be able, but now because of circumstance, he is dis-abled.  The original meaning of the prefix "dis" (not) implies apart-ness, a whole no longer complete or now in two or more pieces.

A cup with the handle broken off is disabled.  A sink whose faucet has been disconnected is disabled.  A man whose leg has been amputated is disabled. There is a sense of time having passed.  There is an implication that that which was once useful and whole is no longer so; function is non-operable.

My daughter as born with multiple medical involvements.  No time passed; nothing happened to her that transformed her from a whole into parts.  I don't think of her as "dis," or "not."  Most of her parts work all right; some of her parts operate on a partial basis.  I don't recall abilities once hers, that are no more.  I do think of her as handicapped, as there are clearly tasks with which she needs special help; she always has and will require significant assistance.

Ms. Kailes refers to the term "handicapped" as being a derogatory one; it calls to her mind the individual on the street corner with cap in hand, begging.

(In truth, the hand in the cap--not the other way around--was an aspect of horse racing, many years ago in Great Britain; the jockeys, vying for the most advantageous place on the track, would draw numbers out of a cap; hence, the derivation of the word.  He who drew the best number, had the inside path; he who drew the worst number was stuck with the outside path and a greater likelihood of losing the race.  The good or ill fortune of the horse's position around the track was a result of the jockey's "hand-i-the-cap.")

In sports today, golfers and bowlers have handicaps; horse racing still awards handicaps; there is a handicap in betting. There is no shame in the word, or in the use.  Rather, the condemnation is in peoples' opinions.

Recently, I met a physician who denied both terms.  He liked the idea of the "exceptional body"  instead of either "disabled" or "handicapped." My, I thought, my little girl is only eight, and already, she's up there with Madonna and Marilyn Monroe.

I keep wondering when Jews are going to change their names.  Anti-Semitism increased by 18% this year; it certainly would be a good time to enhance self-image, and the concept of the altered "handle" is very much in vogue.  I was considering the possibility of "American Moses-ite..."
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If changing the name or label of an individual or a group assists with positive group or self-identity, I'm all for it.  If that same change also heightens the awareness and sensitivity levels of the broader society, I'm in favor of that, too.

I just hope people understand the old adage, "Actions speak louder than words."  Terms don't start out with positive or negative connotations, only objective denotations.  The former is imposed by the response from society. Once "queer" meant to be odd, and "gay" meant to be happy.  Now, both connote homosexuality--one negatively, one positively.

If "disabled" is more palatable than "handicapped," then let it be so.  If the larger community is more comfortable in accepting the disabled rather than the handicapped, I guess I think that's fine.  If individuals would rather be identified as "disabled," instead of "handicapped," I support that, too.  Often, it's not what the word means that counts; rather it's what the word implies.

The choice of this term or that is not what is most important, but rather that we are taking the time to care about our places and our acceptance in this world.  We are demanding to be recognized with a sense of pride and integrity.  As long as accomplishments measure up to the demands for verbal dignity, there should be no problem.

The Webmaster

I am old.  Bordering on ancient and senile, in fact. Depends on how old you are, as to how old I am.  You know how it is...  I live in the twentieth century. Trust me, it was a better place, a better time.  Sure, not as many doo-dads and conveniences; certainly, technology was a stick in the mud compared to what it is, today. However, people talked with one another in complete, un-abbreviated, grammatically correct, and meaningful sentences; what's more, they took the time.   Yep, they took the time to care, to listen, to understand, and maybe to offer a few kind words of advice, admonishment, or praise.

Today, a kid who is five years old, is exhausted at the end of the day. Not enough time.  It used to be that when we were young, the days crawled by, and we could hardly wait for them to pass so that we could grow up.  Now, girls in kindergarten are wearing black velvet with leopard collars and high heels. Time flies by with so much to do, people merely pass one another like strangers, albeit they even may live in the same house. Who has a meal together?  Who shares the day's events?  What happened to family, to quiet time alone, or with friends...?

Into this milieu I have been thrust, through no fault of my own: The twenty-first century.  The reality is that either I have to cope and get on with things, or lag behind and find myself even more lost and ostracized than I already am.  The Hallmark Channel can only take a person so far... Thus, in order to save myself, I found a webmaster.
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My webmaster has been such, since 1997.  He was a senior in college when he started with me.  A wise woman, to whom I am forever indebted, suggested him because she knew his mother.  One of those things. Dumb luck--or God's Will, if you prefer.  It is now 16 years later.  We're still surfing the 'Net. (How awesome do I sound?)

What can you say about a fellow who behaves like Dick Van Dyke, and is built like a dress-zipper with ears?  He is 6'6"+, and maybe weighs 165 pounds.  I come up to his rib cage. Go try to hug him.  He comes with instructions that require a Pogo stick, for any kind of physical familiarity.  I gave up long ago. If I want to give him an endearment, I rest my head just above his belly button, and go from there.

Here's the thing: He's terrific: A mensch.  When he was 21, he was that way; he's the same, now--he's humble and patient, has a sense of humor, is smart as can be, centered, responsible if a little absent-minded or too busy, and he's focused--all prerequisites if you're going to be in my corner.  The only differences are that now, he's got a lovely wife and two kids; he's smarter, wiser, and makes a good living. Otherwise, he's the same familiar old shoe--size 15.

He went through my website with me, back then.  It was like pulling teeth, for all that I needed, and what he had to do while he dragged me along with him: My ideas, his know-how and in-put. He got it done.  His first official website.  Mine, too, come to think of it...  It's still up and running, and attracts its own visitors. It's been through re-decoration and additions; it's just fine, thank you.

Currently, my webmaster has led me through Linked-in, and Facebook (oy...); now, we've pretty much finished this very blog. Can you believe it?  Can you believe I put an entire blog together??? (Well, of course, with the webmaster's huge help).  If I don't do this Stuff constantly, of course, I can't remember half of it. But, we won't go there.  When he and I are done with this project, it's on to Twitter. Oh!  For the record, I can also text--tra-la.

We meet for over an hour, once a month for lunch--usually eggs of some sort; my treat.  He teaches; I scramble--my brains, not the eggs.  Anything in-between our monthly sessions:  I either luck out, learn on my own, or cope.

Sometimes, fairytales do come true.  The webmaster is one of them.

I want to say, that if I had had to do any of this Stuff alone, I think I would have stuck to my Big Chief tablet and #2 Eberhard Faber yellow pencil. Longer to process, yes; but infinitely easier. Really.  I honestly get it, with the technological goodies.  It's incredible.

I also get it that the hours and hours and hours it takes to process all of it; fix it when it crashes or breaks down; call multiple "technical support" people--most of whom can barely speak English or can't think beyond their prepared, scripted instruction manuals; crawl around on the floor while they ask me to re-check what wires and buttons I've already checked; and remember on the side, how to relate to people as human beings rather than as mobs of pixels: All are hazards of the technological age. I don't think it's so hot, just between us.

Still, I want you to know that my webmaster is just the Best--no doubt.  He has even managed to make all this learning sort of interesting and fun.  I feel like I'm about six years old, in terms of know-how and capability; in truth, I'm older than his mother! Understand that I'm not hardwired for anything other than my bra.  So for this guy to hang in with me: I am so lucky.

Twentieth century lifestyle and values, absolutely.  Still, I cruise in the twenty-first, with the webmaster as captain of my technological ship.

Bully for You...Written for the Colorado Cross-Disabilties Coalition

People go into professions that suit their personal psychological needs as well as their physical and mental abilities.  A pediatrician, for example, usually has his own more childlike view of the world and enjoys children; a physician who treats only adults, will be more comfortable with patients and people who are over the age of 18.

Those who relate well with others, do just that in their workplaces--they enjoy the camaraderie of their colleagues, and their customers.  Folks who are more task oriented, preferring to involve themselves with skills rather than customers, orient to occupations that are duty-focused.  Individuals who would rather control or direct, are most often selected for leadership positions, not wanting to be confined to the day-to-day tasks, nor having to "relate" to folks as their primary goal.  These are your three types of workers: "Taskers;" leaders; "relaters."

It generally works this way.  Sadly, workers who are in the wrong jobs for their psychological needs, either don't remain there very long, or aren't very effective in terms of performance--let alone occupationally fulfilled.  Career preferences chosen according to an individual's psychological needs are as important as any training, schooling, or experience that one encounters.
*
The world of disabilities is enormous.  Today, people are living longer, managing to survive terrible ordeals, illnesses, and deficits. When an infant or child is too immature to advocate for himself, when a person's physical, mental, or emotional abilities are compromised, when aging takes those properties from people who were at one time, able to function independently but no longer can, there is a dis-ability to participate adequately within the mainstream world.

Providers are called in: Caregivers in all varieties; social workers; healthcare professionals; medical support personnel; educators; job coaches;therapists; advocates; nurses along a wide spectrum of expertise re: special needs; agencies for this function or that.

One of the tragedies, yet all-too-frequent realities for the more "helpless victim" and the "rescuing caregiver" or provider, can be a blur between professional and personal needs on the parts of the caregivers and/or the people who are in charge.

The primary role of the caregiver, in any capacity, is not meant to be a personal one, but a professional one. There are boundaries or limits between client and caregiver; there are duties or executive orders that lie between them. While a caregiver must be compassionate and understanding in his job, the role of a provider primarily is not about being a people person, so much as it is about being a task person.  Get the job done, provide comfort and proper care, above all. Duty first.  Or the patient can be injured or die. Nurturing, protection, enabling, have their places; however, the caregiver's focus must be objective, and separate from the client or patient, before all personal involvements.

What can happen, when an individual who is primarily a people person (who wants to be friends, pals, a parent or sibling) is placed in the caregiver's dutiful role, and that professional is truly not suited for properly performing regimented tasks and executing details, lines get crossed.  The caregiver who is more personally people oriented instead of distanced, disciplined, and objective enough to perform and organize in an exemplary manner, ends up re-focusing his or her own "duties" so that they become more about controlling the patient, rather than seeing to those elements that surround the patient, and support his wellbeing.  A kind of guardian effect may occur, where the healthcare professional decides that a personal relationship with the client is more important than the tasks this professional was originally hired to perform: Father knows best? Mother knows best?  Nope.  Support person knows best. And, that's not okay.

Caregivers, providers, support people, or agencies of any type, can easily slip away from the tasks at hand, and become instead, very people oriented or personally involved with the patient.  Thus, the priority of the caregiver is no longer about objective care, but subjectively about the patient needing care that seemingly only the caregiver can provide; that only the caregiver knows how to provide.  It creates a dependency, and it validates the caregiver's psychological need to be personally connected, in order to be of value.  The tasks the caregiver was originally hired to perform for the patient, become secondary to the caregiver's own psychological needs.

What is potentially worse is the same scenario but where the caregiver becomes a leader, or puts himself in charge of the patient; a role of importance and control, not through a personal relationship, but rather through a kind of executive decision made by the caregiver, himself.  This healthcare provider or caregiver, legislates the needs of the particular client or patient to the exclusion of others--including the patient, himself.   Control gradually becomes absolute.  It is no longer about the patient's receiving objectively evaluated care from a competent task person; all else is subordinated to the caregiver's need to control, commanding others to do what was once the caregiver's actual task-oriented job of scheduling, organizing, and executing specific duties.

The inappropriate shift in roles, in order to fill personal psychological needs, warps a caregiver in whatever capacity; the thrust of that individual toward his client, student, or patient, is no longer a clear, distanced evaluative focus, but rather one of superiority.  It's all too easy when tending folks who are challenged in one way or another, to forget about respect, empathy, distancing, boundaries; and to slip into the role of ruler, surrogate parent, or boss.   Providers and caregivers, remember, come in all sorts of ancillary job descriptions, when networking the world of healthcare.

People who are caregivers or providers in agency work or on their own; who have more psychological needs than their particular job placement may provide; on a day-in-day-out, year-by-year kind of schedule (particularly with the same clients for extended periods of time); are most susceptible when it comes to slipping out of their assigned duty-oriented careers; rather, they ease into an orientation of control.

Certainly, there are practical reasons that exist for caregivers to have a certain amount of supervisory influence, when people are disabled or challenged; these professionals are presumably trained accordingly, they have experience, and they are familiar with the patient's history in one way or another.  It is true that patients often need direction from others, in order to guide and assist themselves.

However, direction is one thing; bullying is quite another.

Simply because a person or agency has done a job for years and years and years; has expertise in his field; has taken responsibility in various areas of his vocation; it does not give him a green light when it comes to taking charge of another person's life, to the exclusion of that individual's personal rights or the rights of others. When it comes to contribution, input, or care that is of significant benefit to a patient or client, there must be shared responsibility between all parties; the professionals must stick to the job descriptions they were meant to carry out.

When any caregiver or support person takes over the rights of a particular individual; when that individual becomes manipulated or less independent as a result of increasing control on the part of that caregiver, what is referred to as "for your own good," is more aptly  labeled "ego trip."  It speaks to the psychological needs of a healthcare professional or agency gone awry and who has turned away from the tasks that are his responsibility;  instead, twisting his job to suit himself, either by creating a too dependent relationship with the client, or by legislating what the client needs or ought to do:  Not only so that it ostensibly suits the client, but primarily so that it suits the caregiver's needs to control, as well.

Either way, it's about personal psychological needs trumping job-description. It's about bullying rather than advocating for the patient's right to be treated as normally as possible, and with as much dignity and respect as possible, given his special situation.

"If I Am Not For Myself, Who Will Be For Me? If I Am Only For Myself, What Am I?" ...Rabbi Hillel (Essay)

The biggest problem facing humanity today:  Its own inhumanity--hubris. 

Before technology began to replace human interaction, science overtook religion to explain unknowns, secularism eradicated the notion of God, the family unit imploded; there was a bottom line--Morality.  For over 4,000 years, Judeo-Christian ethics--(Do unto others as you would have others do unto you) have been the watchwords by which people have treated one another fairly, supervised by a morally supreme being. 

Far from perfect, mankind nevertheless has done its best to live by these moral precepts, with recognition that one's fellow men, and the past/present/future, all have bearing.  

Today, we live only for the present:  What feels good for me, now;  not what I think is best for the greater good, over the long-term.

Our world swirls around us faster than we can comprehend; we are losing our way. Without morality to guide our actions and behaviors, and a moral being more knowledgeable and powerful than we; we cannot survive. We are without responsible leaders, heroes who respect laws or one another; someone to guide us/set standards/or point the way.  The biggest problem facing humanity today:  The naively arrogant belief that we outrank God.

Am I Retiring, Transitioning, or Re-Inventing?

We've been in business for 77 years.  I sold my building: Offices, showroom with fitting area, the actual factory.  Not a huge place as manufacturing plants go, but figure a big fish in a little pond.  Since 1936, ain't bad.

The garment industry in the United States is all but dead; the custom garment industry is dead.  I have business, I have customers.  But not enough to earn a living.  Labor today is all off-shore for any kind of tailoring expertise and decent pricing; what our custom shop has always been about. As one of the last shops in our line of manufacturing--if not the last--it was time to bail.

I had to move.  I got rid of the overhead (Thank God), and I got rid of all those things I am responsible for but can't control; eg: The Facility, the Equipment, and the Help.  You don't want to own a factory in this day and age, if you can help it.  I'm telling you.  At least 50% of my professional life has been about apologising for this mistake, or that mal-function.  The only honors I got out of the deal were the joys of saying, "I'm sorry," and giving courtesy discounts. Mazel Tov.

But OK.  So, now, I'm moved.  Where?  I don't want to go through the entire process with you, but trust me; it wasn't a charmer.   The cost of renting a new space, buying a new space, adding a new space onto my home, squeezing everything I needed into my house as is; were all possibilities.

I have a friend who thinks I ought to have had a Plan.  Are you kidding? What plan?  I needed to get out of the building in order to save the overall   company--you know, the proverbial handwriting on the wall:  I needed to stop the financial hemorrhaging, and the mistakes.  This wasn't something that was self-contained and dependent on my decisions, alone; rather it demanded that all the outsiders' chips fell in their own proper order.

One day, a guy makes an offer on the building.  OK.  I figure it all out.  Get it all ready.  Then the sale falls through.  Plan?  So I continue on, in my original operational mode.  Six months later, another offer.  OK. This time, the thing goes through but with closing in four weeks.  An entire--if small--77 year old manufacturing operation--close down, sort, and pack up in 20 days; all the while with orders in work.  

In the meantime, the folks I was going to take with me to a new, littler shop, decided to retire, altogether. Surprise...  

So that's the end of the factory.  In all fairness, one former worker is 80, another is 73; we're not talking Spring Chickens, here.  But between the first and second purported sales of the building, everything changed, including any kind of income projection.  Thus, rentals/purchases of smaller manufacturing facilities, were out the window.  How now, Brown Cow?

The bids to add on a home office came in at $35,000.  For 10'x10'.  No kidding. Small volume pricing. Thus, I rented: An inside storage facility unit. Same size as the home add-on, but for $181/month including insurance.  At this rate, I can keep my new "satellite office" for almost 17 years, before I come close to the $35,000 addition.  

You would love the satellite office.  It's two blocks away, so Sydney--my dog--and I can walk to work.  It's done in used brick with Columbia blue and white trim, and looks like traditional model homes.  (The complex cries out for red geraniums).  The place has all the comforts of home except electricity (other than the bare bulb overhead); and the bathroom that is three buildings away.

It's almost perfect.  I have Kleenex, a chair, a shipping table with a scale, my boxes/tape/wrapping tissue/labels, a broom and dustpan along with a wastebasket, step-stool, 15 file cabinets of payables and receivables, and over 200 aprons that I couldn't bear to part with (let me know if you're interested in purchasing...)   It's the best.  A mezuzah is on the doorpost, along with a Jewish calendar for the year, 5774. The UPS office is down the street; I pack up the uniforms in this petite shipping department, and schlep box after box rather than paying extra for the driver in the big brown truck, to pick up.

My family-room at home in the basement, along with my upstairs study, comprise the rest of my corporate offices. Downstairs are the "accounting and business offices."  Everything I need to run the show, as long as I don't have to cut cloth in my own shop.  I can cut cloth with other folks; I can press; I can sew--all outside. I can screen-print and embroider.  Same thing. But I can't cut in-house.  So far. That's my limit.  I have others who can do the manufacturing in their own shops (aka contractors and sub-contractors), or I can sell ready-to-wear (uniforms from other manufacturers that are made off-shore and merely pulled from shelves, and shipped.)

Upstairs is the "creative/executive" office with all the business machines.  Yes.  I'm writing to you from this office, right now.

I'm continually getting settled, as the days go by.  Still working like mad to squeeze it all in.  Adding new activities, as my hours and time are now my own. No one I have to apologise for or yell at.  No machines to fail or be damaged by well-intentioned "experts."  I'm working every day and so far, longer than I ought. Just to get caught up and get on some kind of schedule. (Sometimes, a customer may get a call from me as late as 1:00 a.m....)

Now, you tell me.  People say, "Ohhhhh, I'm so happy you retired!"   Am I retired?  I have 3 office spaces, separate phone/fax/email /business cards, and UPS bills.  "Well, but no, you're at home, now, so that's not really working." Maybe if I drove around the block every morning before I sat down at my desk so that I could "arrive" at my offices by 8:00, that would help.  

Others write books about "transitioning."  My own "transition" either must be because I've morphed from young to old, and/or because America has given up the ghost where blue-collar skills are concerned.  It's the same business, the same name, the same Stuff.  No in-house factory to be sure, but in every other way, it's the same.  We've always had cottage industry. Even this isn't new.

Tell me, what have I transitioned besides my moving from my factory to my home?  Still feels the same to me.  I answer the phone the same.  I dunno.  I guess the transition is in the loss of overhead and liabilities, and I don't have to apologise so much, any more.

Finally, and best, are those who insist I'm re-inventing myself.  Um, I lost 10 pounds.  Does that mean I'm re-invented?  Trust me: I'm still the same impossible person I have always been, which is why I'm not a team player and work for myself.  I'm in the same business, doing the same thing: Fashion.  Only, I'm more relaxed now because I can focus on selling the clothing, rather than putting out all the fires and rescuing the help.

The Unhemmed Skirt: Fashionable Young Women of the 21st Century

Yesterday, we had a showing re: the sale of the building: The Wesleyans (Methodists, as you no doubt know). A group called Mosaic, which I think is their outreach program for downtrodden urban centers... seem like nice folks.

Toward the end of the showing, one gal is talking with Tom, my broker, in my office, and they're reviewing codes, etc. I'm sitting there, working. The girl is a slender tall, black woman with perfectly matched everything and fun black braided, woven hair. Jewelry, etc. all pinks and wines and puces... Little bowed Pappagallo ballerina flats with bugle beads and sequins. Again, exactingly attired.

Except for one thing: She was wearing a tea-length, tiered, cotton/gauze/muslin dyed skirt (remember those?) in the softest shade of burgundy--how nice. It went beautifully. However, each tier had tons of loose threads hanging from it. Tons. The hem was missing altogether: It simply wasn't. Just raw cloth that looked as though a heel had gotten caught in the stitching, pulled out the entire thing. It was hanging jaggedly, with more threads, all the way around.

Ghastly.

Here was this absolutely lovely girl, dressed to the nine's, with threads hanging everywhere... I couldn't take it. I simply couldn't.

Thus: While she was talking with Tom about the codes, laws, remodeling the bathrooms for the handicapped, etc., regarding moving an outreach church into my building, I quietly took out my shears and clipped the threads on her skirt. Not the tiers because there were too many threads on every layer around the skirt; I worried i might be sued for sexual harassment if I felt my way up from mid-calf to hips. But I did take the wad of muslin that was the large, gathered long skirt hem,, and I continued clipping away. Tons of burgundy shavings fell to the floor.

Interestingly, neither Tom nor the young woman missed a beat in their conversation. I just went on trimming. I can't tell you how happy it made me to see that Mess disappear.

When I was finished, the girl said to me, "You know my mother can't stand this skirt. She doesn't think it should have these threads, either. But this is the way I bought it."

I said to her, "Your mother is right. It's terrible. You're a pretty girl, delightfully dressed, and the skirt looks like it got caught around the center post in the washing machine." I went on, "I bet you paid extra for the manufacturer not to hem the skirt, or finish off the edges."

She confessed it was indeed costly.

I told her that now, she looked 100% better, she still had all the hanging mess on the tiers of the skirt, but that at least the hem wasn't in shreds any more; it was still raw unfinished cloth, so that she could feel as Bohemian as she wished without the stragglers, dripping down. She looked at me.

I said, "You'll thank me later."

Tom, who has been on oxygen since he met me, and has to keep slapping himself to reassure that I'm for real, rather fainted after this. Being raised with the sisters in Ohio Catholic schools, he is not used to my wanton flagrancy...

When he left, he said they would never buy the building...
***

Today, we got an offer from said church, for the highest amount, yet. Higher than any of the previously interested folks. Tom was in a swoon. He said he'd never in 30 years had three simultaneous offers on a single building. He couldn't believe it. Thing is, they want me out in three weeks and I have orders to finish.

Oy.

Tom says I can pay them rent. I said, "Listen, Tom. I'll pay the taxes, the utilities, the bills, for as long as I'm there; I will be out by the 4th of August or sooner. But I have to have time for my customers."

He said, "You'll have to pay rent."

I said, "Tell the gal that instead of rent, I'll finish clipping the threads on the skirt. No charge. That that alone should take care of it."

He said, "No, really. What can you pay in rent?"

I said, "Yes, really. I'll pay all the bills for as long as I'm there, and I'll fix her skirt. Start there. Then, we'll see if we need to negotiate." And that.was.that.

I'll let you know what ensues.
***

That's also why I guess I can't work at Macy's, should I want to go back to retailing. My time has come and gone... If a customer were to come in hideously attired in my opinion, or if new merchandise were to arrive that wasn't right, I would just take a scissor and cut away, or throw away. The store and the customer would be much better off for my assistance. I have no doubt. The thing is, I'm not sure management or the customer would agree. Even though I know they would "thank me later..."

The Old Bags

The other day I went to the grocery store, fully prepared to get some vacuum cleaner bags for my uprights at home and work.

Much to my surprise, I was told that vacuum cleaner bags are no longer sold.  Yes.  I was flummoxed.  It's bad enough that clothes lines are for the most part, long gone; it's awful when underwear that fits or lipsticks that flatter, are discontinued without a "by your leave, or a kiss my rear."  The extinction of "dumb phones" and PCs is expensive and dreadful, so OK.  But vacuum cleaner bags?

I went down every possible aisle three times.  To no avail.  Not a receptacle to behold.  Finally, in complete disarray, I located the head clerk.  With a rueful smile she shook her head, plainly disturbed by the situation. "No more vacuum cleaner bags. People don't buy them any more, so we stopped selling them." 

"You don't sell vacuum cleaner bags any more?!"  I was almost at a shriek.  It may seem like a simple thing to you but, to me it was a rite of passage.  Did I pass the age of civilization when people vacuum their rugs?  It appeared that vacuum cleaners had gone the way of rectal thermometers. 

The clerk explained that people now use "bagless" vacuums; it wasn't the store's fault at all she went on, but rather that times had changed.  I couldn't stand it.  I really couldn't stand it.  I stuttered, stammered; with arms akimbo, I huffed and puffed. "I know just how you feel," she nodded.  "Why, when I heard about the store discontinuing vacuum cleaner bags, I thought to myself, that's just Un-American. Un-American!"  Visions of  Norman Rockwell paintings, Hoover or Kirby magazine advertisements, and my mother, came to mind...

But there you are.  Upon hearing the terrible news, I immediately drove to the small vacuum cleaner store down the street.  The tattooed balding ex-Marine, none too pleased to hear what I had to say roared, "Who the hell do they think they are, saying that???!! I've been in business for 30 years, plan to be here for 20 more.  All I sell is used and re-furbished vacuum cleaners.  With Bags.  Here! See these?  Thousands of 'em.  THOUSANDS of 'em!" His open arms spread behind him as if in song, across long layered shelves that spanned his shop.  

I took the bags he sold me and left.  It was nothing, really.  Still, there was something about it: Vacuum cleaner bags.  Something so simple, so necessary, seemingly around forever.  All at once rendered useless, outmoded, and unprofitable.  Just like that: Gone.

Suiting Up For Santa Claus: UniformMarketNews.com

Every year, Santa puts down his pipe, fluffs up his whiskers, and makes sure he has his fabled list that he’s checked twice.  He puts on his Christmas best and gets ready to spread love, good cheer, and goodies to children all over the world. 

It seems that Santa Claus, or Saint Nicholas, evolved with various cultures over time:  The Greeks knew him as Poseidon, god of the sea; the Romans changed his name to Neptune.  Early European Christianity drew on these images of this powerful sea god, the benevolent Christ child, and the notion that children should be good Christians, and called him Hagios Nikolaos (Latin for Saint Nicholas).  There doesn’t seem to be proof that there was an actual person named Nicholas.

Saint Nicholas, protector of sailors and schoolchildren, gradually became a rescuer and benefactor who rewarded children everywhere so long as they were properly behaved, did their studies, and said their catechism. 

The name of Santa Claus came from the Dutch who, when they first came to America and settled in New Amsterdam (New York), pronounced Saint Nicholas “Sinterklass,” aka Santa Claus. 

How did Santa’s appearance evolve?  The answer is an American one:  In 1809, New York writer Washington Irving (“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”) wrote a series of satirical works referred to as “The Knickerbocker Tales.”  In these “‘Tales,” St. Nicholas is promoted as the patron saint of New York society.  Riding over tops of trees and bringing presents to children, Irving refers to him as small, elfish, with a pipe, and capable of sliding down chimneys.

By 1821, New York printer William Gilley put forth a poem about “Santeclaus” who dressed all in fur and drove a sleigh pulled by one reindeer.   Clement Clark Moore—New York, 1823, wrote the classic poem, “Twas The Night Before Christmas” a defining image for Santa and his swift team of reindeer, now totaling eight. 

According to Snopes.com, Santa remained elfin until about 1841, when J.W. Parkinson of Philadelphia hired a man to dress as Santa for his mercantile, and climb down a chimney outside his shop—the first time Santa is recorded as a full-sized person, and connected with retailing.

In 1863, the cartoons of Thomas Nast were presented in “Harper’s Weekly.”  Santa got a beard, fur from head to foot, and his first red suit; George P. Webster, who wrote copy for Nast’s drawings, gave Saint Nicholas the North Pole as his home. 

By 1885, when Louis Prang of Boston, an illustrator of Christmas cards, chose red over all the other Santa suit colors (green, white, purple, brown, blue), Saint Nicholas took on the style and appearance that he has today. 

There are those who think that Santa Claus, in his famous red suit with white fur, was a figment of Coca Cola’s corporately colored imagination.  Nope.  During the 1930’s, the era of the Great Depression, an illustrator named Haddon Sundblom did a drawing of Santa holding a bottle of Coca Cola as a marketing idea.  It was an instant success, galvanizing the notion of Santa’s already red suit, and also reaping excellent rewards for Coke.  But the colorful image of Santa Claus was cemented long before the 1930’s.

What about the Santa suit today?  For one jolly old soul, this multi-million dollar business sells hundreds of thousands of garments per year.   There are over 25,000 Santa suit purchasing sites online, alone.  It’s mostly seasonal, but with sales occurring year round.  Volume wise, Santa suits are second only to Halloween in the costume/uniform business.

Halco is one of the 2 largest Santa suit manufacturers in the U.S.  “We’ve been in business since 1945,” says principal, Terri Greenberg.  “We produce 52,000 suits per year.  We used to have 72 fulltime stateside sewing operators.  Now, we have ten.”   What used to be an American business is going more and more offshore because American manufacturers can’t compete with the pricing.  Terry, herself, lives in the Far East part time, in order to maintain quality control at her plants both here and abroad. 

Shari McConahay, co-owner of retail SantaSuits.com, purchases from wholesale manufacturers like Terri.  Shari is adamant about buying American and feels strongly that American suits are better made; with offshore garments, quality control is a mixed bag.   Her business has been selling the Santa uniform since the early ’70’s.  Shari dedicates 20% of her company’s 18,000 sq. ft. warehouse space for the Santa suits, alone. 

A Santa suit can be purchased retail anywhere from $27.95, for a one-size-fits-all stretch, to a plush satin-lined fully trimmed out custom garment at $700.00.  With accoutrements, such as padding, beards, eyebrows, glasses, boots, belts, gloves, etc, that’s about $1,000 for the complete suit.  Depending on the vendor, profits can be plus or minus 100% above cost.

The costumes can come in red, burgundy, white, green and even blue.  But red is by far and away the best seller.  There are variations of style and quality with coats, hoods, brocade, and period pieces—in polyester, flannel, felt, vinyl, leather, satin, velvet, velour, or plush fur fabrics. 

“There are those who purchase for parties, office gatherings, and family scenes.  Then, there are the ‘professionals,’ who work the malls, hospitals and charitable organizations, photography displays, parades, and street corners,” according to retailer, Larry Meidberg, at Clicket.com. 

There’s something special about a uniform that commands both kindness and respect.  Like true elves, all three companies are working 15 hour days to get everyone suited up in time for the Christmas season.  “For many Santas it’s like a calling,” said Shari.  “Every year they will spruce up their accessories or their uniforms, so that they are perfect.  Children are the first to tell you if something is wrong.” 

The Best of The Rest: Interview with Made to Measure Magazine

                              North American Association of Uniform Manufacturers 

                                            and Distributors Awards   2010

Las Vegas, venue for this year's Convention where awards were presented for the most outstanding uniform programs.  The two primary categories:  Safety, and Images of the Year (IOY).  The first--uniforms for those who serve to protect our population; the second--best designs in uniforms that enhanced a product, place, and concept.

Within these two areas, there were a total of 22 awards.  Each award represented a winning category as well as its own unique presentation.  Several awards were given to the same manufacturers, whose talents and creativity spanned multiple ideas and designs.

For over 30 years, NAUMD has been recognizing efforts to create styles that enhance the presentation of these groups.  Each primary category had multiple criteria, many of which were similar in terms of durability, wearability during the tasks performed on the job, fabrics and designs utilized for image enhancement as well as practicality and comfort.  Other characteristics were unique unto themselves:  Projection of confidence, reassurance, and organization were key for the Safety programs; IOY programs effused end-product quality, keen marketing dynamics that projected a unified and focused brand & theme,  and identity that customers could grab on to and remember.   Competition was tough.

No matter the area of expertise, the concept of the whole presentation was paramount; recognition and identification with intent and purpose of the program, was the final nod for an outstanding uniform apparel award.  "New technologies, fabric enhancements and innovation in design and composition are key to being named the best of the best!" exuded Richard Lehrman, President and CEO of NAUMD.

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Red the Uniform Tailor scooped up two awards in the Safety category.   Michael Buck worked with the University of Delaware Police, garnering the "University Police Department Award," and Bruce Klein headed up the Old Saybrook (Connecticut) Police Department , winning kudos for the outstanding "Police Department Under 50 Officers."

While both men sponsored entirely different departments, the representation from Red's was of equal excellence in both areas.  The U. of Delaware Police was a force of 60 officers, all dressed the same, with incredible attention to detail.  If you can believe it, the gold thread color from the shoulder emblems, hash marks, and chevrons--used to denote rank--was the exact same shade of gold as the inlaid gold cloth striping on the pants.  The uniform pants were a poly wool serge with a terrific matching Class "A"  military dress blouse, sporting wide shoulders and a narrow waist with room for a Sam Brown styled gun belt to be worn over the top.  The General Pershing styled hat complemented the ensemble.  The shirts (long and short sleeved) were a lighter weight than the coat and pants--11 oz. or 8 oz, whereas the outer garments were a 14 oz weight.  The shirts had sewn-in creases, double elbows, reinforced pockets,  a hidden zipper front; everything was attended to meticulously. 

The reason for this year's win with the University is that the group, itself, decided to stop using off-the-rack items, and decided to customize the exact same design it had used for years, but with better fit, fabric, quality, and attention to the people's figures who were wearing the uniforms.

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Old Saybrook, on the other hand, was sporting a brand new design, purchased with money that the 20 person department had raised itself, spearheaded by its new Chief of Police, Michael Sperta.   There's a story regarding the history of the force, but essentially, when the old chief retired, the old uniforms went with him.  Red the Uniform Tailor, under the design and direction of Bruce Klein, came up with P&F  blue and lighter blue garments that not only had an official image, but some razzle dazzle as well.  The fairly standard styled garments had squared off knit ties, and "trooper" cowboy hats.  

Sperta is quite a showman, and he introduced the new uniforms on stage--the old uniforms and retiring Chief vanishing behind a closing curtain; at once opening again, with the new Chief and new uniforms.  "Image is everything in this business," said Bruce.  "How a department looks and presents itself is what makes the difference between an agency that can solve a situation with speech, vs. the agency that gets into the brawl.  If the uniform is so classy that no one wants to mess it up, then the officers will be less willing to fight, and the instigators will be less willing to engage."

Klein and his brothers, Barry and Harvey, own Red's.  Begun in 1977 as a security guard manufacturer, the corporation now offers several different brochures with multiple thematic concepts:  Everything from police to cocktail waitresses.  No matter what the company does, however, the same intensely personal focus is attached to each order--thread, fabric, buttons, design, quality fabric, appropriateness for the weather, practicality, economy, and use.  A very fine group, supported with superb sales people such as Michael Buck, Red the Uniform Tailor was easily deserving of its two awards.

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Perfection Uniforms, manufacturer, was presented to the West Virginia Sheriffs' Association  by loyal dealer, Ronk's Uniform Center.  Winner of the NAUMD award for "Special Organization,"  Miranda Brock told about a people invested in its state, and in its uniforms.  With a designer who hummed, "Take me home, West Virginia," as he created the concept for the 65 counties whose members all decided to wear the same uniform, including patrol cars with paint that was matched to the fabric of the garments in order to blend everything into the rugged backwoods terrain of the state, the story of the West Virginia Sheriffs is a unique one.  "We appreciate customers who inspire what we do; it's because of them that we're growing," said Miranda.  "The recession has allowed so many people to have so many choices.  They could go anywhere, but they chose us."

800 members of every single department in the state chose Perfection, a new and small-based company that was affiliated with such a large order for the first time, and it literally took years to complete, in part due to funding.  It was a genuine grass roots project to get these folks in proper attire.  Functionality and comfort, including water repellency, were primary.  The colors were black for the shirts, as well as the trouser stripe, and grey for the pants, themselves.  Perfection provided the garments, alone.  All accessories were provided by others, and the groups worked in combination with one another to create a winning team.

The sentimentality for the project was focused on boosting officer morale, being non-invasive or frightening to the public, and reminding the public of who was in charge.  Originally, another company had the account, but Perfection added such perks as better technology, stain resistant fabrics, a gusset in the crotch, and an expandable waistband.   The sheriffs in West Virginia won this award, and it was just that--perfection.

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A tie.  Yep.  For the "County Sheriffs' Departments" award, it was a tie between Guidry's Uniforms for the Vermillion Parish Sheriffs' Department, and Nye Uniforms for Roscommon County Sheriffs' Department.

Tom Meagher purchased 62-year old Guidry's, in 1980.  A safety apparel family-owned retailer,  this 12,000 sq. foot establishment prides itself on ready-to-wear garments that are then completely customized to fit the customers' sizes and need for unique styling.    The Vermillion Parish had its share of tragedy with the Louisiana storms of Katrina and Rita.  Many of the deputies' lives were washed out or partially ruined.  Thus, when the new Sheriff wanted something new for his Departments, he came to Tom, not only with unique ideas in mind, but with a need for budget, a moral boost, and practicality as well.

Ordering from only the best--Blauer, Fechheimer, Southeastern, and Smith & Warren, Guidry's customized the basic garments, identifying rank, too.  The royal pants with a piggyback stripe in yellow-gold and silver, a tan shirt with royal and the yellow-gold, the waterproof LAPD navy jacket had a removable lining, and was a Smokey Bear hat with royal: A totally new look in Louisiana. 

Approximately 450 sets of uniforms were made of polyester-gabardine garments are American-made, don't fade, easy-care, less expensive, washable, and water resistant.  "Service, trust, long-term relationships, and quality are the secret to customer relationships," said Tom.  "Our focus is on staying positive."

  

Nye's Uniforms in Grand Rapids, Michigan, is a distributor, rather than a manufacturer.  His uniforms are often made by Red the Uniform Tailor, whom Bill Nye feels is the best, anywhere.  But Nye, himself, is a fine salesman, and put together an excellent program for the 30 dress blouses  in tan and brown that distinguished the multiple departments  of officers who heretofore had nothing but a basic off-the-shelf shirt and pants.  For 75 years, Nye has been providing superb garments for public safety apparel.  By reversing the colors of the garments, these blouses varied for each department: Correctional, Road Patrol, S.W.A.T. members.  Some wore hats, some didn't.  The fellows picked the best 16.5 oz. elastique poly wool available.  Top drawer. 

Originally, Nye's handled the Roscommon Department, lost it to a cheaper bid, then got it back a year or so ago: Quality and good service overrode fewer dollars.  The Sheriff wanted everyone to have a good looking dress uniform; hence, he collected the money, and over time, department by department, the town has paid for these garments.  Each member is "taped," or custom measured rather than fitted with try-on's.  Every detail is paid attention to.  All accessories that go with the department and the task are provided.  Is it any wonder that Nye's Uniforms have been NAUMD winners for the last four years?

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"Best State Agency" winner was the California Highway Patrol--a Fechheimer customer for decades.  6,800 officers are outfitted in the tightly specked uniform code of standards.  According to Fred Heldman, "While multiple companies are authorized to service these officers, there's no question that Fechheimer won the award due to experience and expertise in uniform manufacturing, and particularly high-end tailored garments."

The uniform consists of wool and wool blends--best for appearance, comfort and durability.  High-profile representation in California through well-established retail companies, provides in-stock services and expert tailoring facilities.

The uniform projects authority, in part as a result of constant inspections to check for uniform maintenance and fit.  The uniforms are traditionally khaki colored with a campaign hat and blue & gold trouser braid.  The dress uniform includes a green jacket and a royal blue tie.  Cold weather and utility uniforms are dark blue. 

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Outstanding "Special Agency" award goes to Galls-Aramark for the U.S. Mint Police.   Nine years ago, Galls took over the Mint contract under the supervision of Molly Roberts.  The Mints include the six American facilities that produce coin and store gold at Fort Knox.  Aramark purchased Galls in 1995; the latter is a distributor of safety apparel and accouterments.  For the Mint, alone, the contract called for over 200 separate worn items to be provided in mass quantities.

The appearance of the officers, honor guards, and operations teams--used for transportation of the coinage, and protection in the Mints, themselves--was key to the award.  "The Mint prides itself on classy, traditional look with new innovations as they are developed," reflects Molly.  Different garments for different locations, the use of Cool Max and Under Armor for comfort, a classy clean look that is very professional, all go into the makeup of a top-notch set of garments. 

They are navy blue, no striping.  Hats very with division and function.  The outerwear depends on climate.  All badge and patch applications were made and/or applied in-house at Galls.  The goods is poly wool, everything the same weight.  The more specialized the particular uniform, the more varied the fabric--durable, colorfast, everyone wearing the exact same color.  There are no counterfeits in the quality of the uniforms, nor in the manufacture of the money: Galls is professionalism at its best with its second win for the Mints.     

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Newfoundland, originally a British Canadian province, still has constabularies for its constables, rather than police departments; hence,  R. Nicholls' Distributing, Inc. won the award for the best "Canadian Safety Department--" the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary.  Brian O'Connor represented his account, which had its uniforms made by Perfection Uniforms.   Nicholls's is a uniform distributor, also with its own private label brand, that sells to law enforcement groups.

The fabric for these uniforms is polyester and recycled pop-bottles with polyester.   They are navy with royal braid.  The pants are a cargo style, a standard police-styled cap, and outer body armor.  There is tremendous attention to detail and comfort, with the crotch gusset, expandable waist, wicking inside the garments, and repellency outside of them.  The shirts have a stretch in the underarm.  280 members wear the exact same 1,120 uniforms, other than ranking on the sleeves and collars.

The entry design is basically the same as it was in the past, but Perfection's new attention to detail is what convinced the Constabulary.  Brian states that Nicholl's solicited the Department.  "We were big enough to handle the order, we were new, they liked our product, and they liked Nicholls's."

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The biggest winner in either the Safety Apparel category or the IOY, was Cintas Corporation--four awards, each for a different uniform program in the Image of the Year division.  Cintas Corporation, based in Cincinnati, Ohio, provides highly specialized services to business of all types around the world.  It designs,   manufactures, and implements corporate identity uniform programs, providing apparel and supplementary items.  For the 11th straight year, Cintas swept with:  "Healthcare--" Florida Hospital Cardiovascular  Institute; "Hotel Single Unit (United States)--" The Pierre Hotel; "Restaurants Fast Food--" The Panda Express; "Cruise Lines--" Royal Caribbean of the Seas.  Andi Vance provided information that covered all four separate and unique venues.

In the healthcare category, Cintas developed an apparel program for five different departments within the Florida Hospital Cardiovascular Institute.  To complement the corporate color palette, the scrubs incorporate a complete custom color program centered around the color cinnamon.  In addition, Cintas designed a patterned trim with a custom heart-shaped design along with the Florida Hospital logo to honor the focus of the renowned organization.

"This prestigious award truly reflects the integrity of our apparel program," said Danielle Johnson, Assistant Vice President of the Hospital.  "This facility is committed to quality care, so we wanted a uniform program that reflected our brand, while enhancing the job functions of each employee.  By working with key personnel throughout the process, Cintas helped us to develop a program that met everyone's needs."

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The Pierre Hotel in New York is a luxury apparel program balancing the high-class nature of the age-old establishment with the durability and comfort necessary for work.  The Cintas winning designs combine traditional European styling with form and function to enhance the guest experience and celebrate the hotel's $100 million  renovation.

"Cintas developed a luxury collection that echoes our brand and the environment in which our employees serve," said Hekio Kuenstle, General Manager of The Pierre Hotel.  "We wanted to set the standard for outstanding hospitality, and an award-winning uniform program further sets us apart from the competition."

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For the Panda Express, it's important to showcase a top-of-the-line apparel program for the back of the house staff, because the fast food restaurant operates with an exposed kitchen.  The Asian-inspired uniforms include black complementary chef and cook tunics, each with red accents and the iconic Panda Express logo on the right arm and back.  The chef version is differentiated by a Chinese character trim.  A traditional skull cap has been updated and re-thought to include mesh panels and adjustable straps.  Both uniforms are paired with four-way reversible aprons.

"Panda's mission is to deliver exceptional Asian dining experiences to our guests during every visit.  When guests enter a Panda Express, we want to 'wow' them in all five senses and showcase the culinary skills of our chefs preparing delicious Asian cuisine with fresh ingredients," said Nader Garschi, Executive Director of Concept Innovation at Panda Express.  "Cintas was a great partner in executing that goal by creating a cultural connector uniform that properly reflected the higher quality of the Panda Express brand."

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For the cruise line award, Cintas created day, evening, and formal wear garments to enhance the new Royal Caribbean Oasis of the Seas' "Neighborhoods" concept.  This concept provided vacationers with the opportunity to seek out relevant experiences, based on their personal styles, preferences, or moods.  The garments feature a blue theme for day, and black charcoal for night.  Formal wear can be difficult to maintain when dry-cleaning services are not available, but the custom poly-wool blend is both easy to care for and durable.

"We are honored to have four programs selected for these prestigious awards," said Bill Goetz, Cintas' President and Chief Operating Officer of Global Accounts and Strategic Markets.  "These awards are a testament to the way our designers and merchandising team are able to work with our customers and create functional fashions that match any aesthetic."

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Moving into "Transportation" and the Image of the Year awards,  Hawaiian Airlines was captured by four-and one-half year old company, Apparel Solutions.  Two fun, hardworking, entrepreneurial fellows--Ron Steel, who has years of uniform experience, and his partner who is an IT genius, have combined to create this fabulous company. 

Hawaiian, in honor of its 80th anniversary, decided to celebrate by getting all new uniforms, and giving the airline a completely revamped look.  They remodeled and re-decorated.  More muted tones permeated the planes, the ticket counters, and baggage.  Apparel Solutions was responsible for the attendants, the ticket counter folks, and the baggage men: "Above the wings and below the wings," as Ron referred to the various employees. 

Hawaiian has been the top-ranked on-time airline for years, and just as it has paid keen attention to detail, so Apparel Solutions paid attention to every tiny detail to the 2,300 uniforms in multiple styles of teals & azure prints with solid greys.  Everything from day-glo orange T-shirts to elegant blazers and skirts were collected and presented to the airline. 

One of the best aspects of the program is that every employee was given his own access to the website, with a special catalogue for the Hawaiian Airline products, each customized for that employee's particular job, having points available for dollars to spend, and availability to order in the necessary size! With the time-zone changes, it was a uniform salesman's dream.

The styles were very very much a part of the brand--the Asian look.  The buttonless blazers have mandarin collars; neither the shirts, blouses, or blazers are allowed to have pockets, all buttons are monochromatic and match the color of the garments, and wherever possible, there are no buttons at all.  Minimalist.  Simple.  An HMS fabric, 8.5 oz, a beautiful, soft hand. Sophisticated, elegant, and easy to wear.

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Lion Uniform Group, a G&K Services Company, is the manufacturing and direct purchase division of the corporation.  Jeanna Peifer, Vice President & General Manager was proud of the talented and diversified company that won two NAUMD awards: for best "Retail Establishment," ampm, and for "Special Recognition" award for Class V.

Lion has had over 10 years of marketing experience with the petroleum industry, and in that time gasoline sales has morphed from the gasoline pump to the convenience store.   ampm , in ten states across America, is allied with over 1,100 Arco and BP stations.  When the brand team changed the image of its stores, some 10,000 uniforms were re-vamped and transposed into workable uniforms that were comfortable, functional, easy to launder, reasonably priced, and provided an eye-catching memory for the customer.

The basic uniforms were long and short-sleeved shirts, male and female stylings, outerwear, and an apron.  Pants were up to the employees.  A very astute design team created the garments as well as the terrific coordinating pattern done with sublimation color printing that advertised all the goodies that ampm sells.  Their slogan is "Too much good stuff." 

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Lion Uniform Group, with its umbrella corporation G&K Services Company, is a Fortune 500 offering.  Its employees are hardworking, creative, and dedicated to producing a product that is not soon forgotten.  Proof of that is its diversification with the "Special Recognition" award for Class V, a completely different concept than that of ampm.

L.A. coterie designer, Richard Tyler, who works with Lion on many projects, produced a high-end, tailored group of garments in black: Blazers, skirts or slacks, and outerwear.  The shirts and blouses are white.  For the 14 color accents that contrast with the basic design of the very basic garments, the coat lining, collars, scarves, accessories, are all eye-catchers that sparkle throughout the locations in 138 countries, with 25-50 employees each.  Each style is friendly, employee approachable, and comfortable.  The customer is at once, engaged by the striking colors, the elegant styling, and the subtle but definite weave and presence of religious crosses into the high-styled, fabulous apparel.

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Superior Uniform Group is another big NAUMD winner.  Ruby's Diner won for the "Restaurants, Multi-Unit" category; the Hilton Corporate won for "Hotels, Multi-Unit."  Speaking with Janice Henry, Vice President of Marketing; Viv Smith, Marketing, and Sandy Pegler, Merchandising Manager, it's clear why this group captured multiple awards: They're excited about what they do, they work hard, they're a team.

Ruby's is a diner concept from the 1940's, steel and chrome outside, with red and white everything inside.  The waitresses have the white half aprons, red and white striped outfits, and even little headbands for their hair.  The fellows wear black pants, black slim-Jim ties, and white broadcloth shirts.  Everything matches.  Theme is paramount, the visual rules. 

Superior has been doing Ruby's for a long time--seven-eight years.  The reason why it won this year?  It was submitted.  This is a perfect example of the manufacturer giving the customer exactly what he wants.  It's about customer attention, and having a wonderful time.  "What a great company we are to have an in-house design department!" said Janice.

As Ruby's was a totally visual experience, the Hilton Corporate Hotels was a cerebral one--a mood, a vision, a deliberately coordinated experience.  Hilton, too, has been with Superior for seven years.  The entire focus is around global involvement with environment, ecosystems, and going "green."    Fabrics are eco-friendly, with recycled polyester, Lycra, or regular polyester.  Washable, fashionable to the point of being worn outside of work, based on retail looks,  both Housekeeping and the Front Desk garments were entered in the NAUMD award experience, albeit  Superior does the hotels from front to back of the house.

The color palette was chocolate, bark, and charcoal with black.  Neutrals and earth tones, only.  Two-three years in advance, in color-forecasting and design--pants, skirts, blazers, and stunning blues, silver & bronze--solids and a stripe--in blouses and shirts.  The details?  Stretch elbows in the fabrics, moisture wicking in the backs, a soft hand and a luxurious feel.

Today's world is full of younger employees who want a contemporary look, with "green" being a big factor in the Hospitality quadrant.   With their two collections, Select, and Signature, Superior Uniform Group feels very pleased with what it has done.  "We worked darn hard on this," emphasized Janice.

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Another hotel took the best "Hotel--Single Unit (Canadian)," and that was the Pan Pacific Hotel Vancouver, designed and manufactured by Omega Uniform Systems (formerly Omega Frontline).  Margaret Ramsdale is the owner and president of this 10-year-old company, her first account being this particular hotel.   One of the outstanding features of the program is that the employees each have their own web-accounts, tailored to their job descriptions, uniforms for the purpose, and amount of money to spend.  Thus, ordering online from measurements to delivery at the employee's front door, is computerized, and a snap.

Omega, originally having begun in hotels and the hospitality industry, now focuses on transportation--everything from bus lines to cruise ships.  It is a manufacturer and direct seller of uniform programs, as well as doing its own designs.

The doormen coats were Omega's entry for the NAUMD awards, and the exterior of the hotel in glass and steel, as well as the surrounding mountains, the lake, the misty climate, all inspired a monochromatic look of blacks, charcoals, and greys.   The garments are clean in terms of design, and match the simplicity of the structure.  Winter uniforms are charcoal with light grey accents; summer is a lighter weight in lighter grey with charcoal accents.  There are pewter buttons, with silver striping in a matte finish. 

The reason they won this year for the two-year old program is that Margaret decided to enter into the contest this year as opposed to last.  Living in Canada, the NAUMD  awards are newer, and just beginning to catch on.  However, catch on, she did, as her first award came for the Holland America Cruise Lines in 2009. 

"The Pan Pacific uniforms are the result of taking traditional styling and interpreting it in a traditional way," smiled Margaret.  "Everything is neutral, and nothing is shiny.  It is low contrast, minimalist, low key.  The customer is thrilled with the aesthetics, and the doormen loved the functionality as well as the style."  There were four-six doormen, and a total of 24 uniforms, overall.

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Brookhurst, Inc. is a manufacturer of garments coming out of California.  It won the best design for the "Service Apparel" winner with client, Mary Kay, Inc.  Brookhurst has had the account for the last six-seven years;  however, it has decided to close its doors, and The Lion Uniform Group, a G&K Services Company, will take over in the future.  Over the years, Mary Kay has won again and again through Brookhurst, as the fashion collection reinvents itself each year, keeping pace with the retail fashion industry.

  Elena Morgan knows the program inside and out.  In the U.S., there are 13,000 wearers of the Red Jacket Directors' Program for Mary Kay Independent Sales Directors who coach the over 650,000  Independent Beauty Consultants.  Mary Kay is one of the world's largest direct sellers of skin care and cosmetics.  Globally,  there are approximately two million Independent Beauty Consultants.

The current program consisted of three uniquely different jackets, tailored in an exclusive sapphire blue and black mélange worsted wool fabric, developed especially for Mary Kay. The three choices were a long jacket with a funnel neck, curved border accent with black silk piping, in a 25" length; a short modern peaked lapel jacket with banded border and shaped waist illusion in a 22" length; a young, trendy swing jacket with inverted back pleats and 3/4 lantern sleeves in a new 21" length.

Skirts are available in five lengths, insuring that every Sales Director has an option that meets her style and figure.  There are two different styles of skirts:  Pencil with double back pleat; and ankle length with elegant peplum back detail.  Levels of accomplishment are recognized by distinctive camisole sweaters, bejeweled above the Director level. Seniors shimmer in iridescent blue sequins and beads; Futures shine in navy sequins and beads; Executive Seniors and Elites sparkle in embellished pewter/silver sequins and beads with rhinestone accents.  Elites are recognized by an exquisite National Sales Director-inspired button.

An alternate scoop neck sleeveless sheath dress may be worn with the jackets.  There are also accessories and complementary prints.

The uniforms are durable and comfortable, able to be worn year-round throughout the U.S. and abroad.  They are appropriate for women ranging in sizes from 00 to 40, plus an equally fashionable outfit for expectant mothers.  There are suits in three jacket lengths, offered in petites, regulars, and talls.  washable sweaters and blouses are elegant, durable, comfortable and tasteful.  Fabric that will withstand the attachment of numerous recognition awards, while maintaining its integrity and good looks for the duration of the program, is a must.

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Winner of the outstanding "Casino" uniforms is the Unisync Group LTD, originating from Canada.  Ryan Beliveau. Marketing Coordinator....

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  The Disney Costume Wearhouse won two awards:  One for best "Arena or Sports Facility--" ESPN Wide World of Sports; and one for "Restaurants, Fine Dining--" Sanaa.  All one has to do is say the magic word: Disney; to know it's full of thought, cultural and art history research, giggles, and customer-oriented fun.

The ESPN Wide World of Sports Arena is located on the mammoth Disney World campus, in Orlando, Florida.  It's a multi-faceted area where both amateur and professional athletes come to compete and play.  Disney's job,  according to Jodi White, was to build a costume that combined both the professionalism of an athletic area with all of the sparkle and delight of Disney World.  It is a merger of ABC's Wide World of Sports, and ESPN (Entertainment Sports Programming Network).

The new uniforms were a result of the new partnership, and needed after ten years of wear.  The costumes are more "today," and more about the ESPN brand.  Everything is more sports' oriented, more authentic.  The designers didn't want the employees to look like they were representing just one sport, but all sports.  The color palette is ESPN red, with the ESPN logo on everything, and easy to identify:  Guest Services, Food & Beverage, Athletic Coordinators, and everyone who works in the Arena.  There were two categories: 85% wore red polos with logos front & back, with black pants or shorts and a red windbreaker or fleece jacket.  The other 15% at the Welcome Center who do setup, logistics, and competitions, wear light grey, but in the same outfit.  Everyone has a baseball cap with different logos. 

Champion athletic fabrics that were used, included wicking for moisture absorption, safety with reflective tape where necessary, logo branding, due to the stretch of the fabric the ability to fit several sizes, were highly branded and themed to Disney.

"These uniforms are tied in with ESPN," said Jodi, " but they're Disney costumes.  We have received such positive feedback from attendees, as well as our cast, who are happy and comfortable, and having a very good time with a true sports venue, feeling good about themselves.  It was a fantastic partnership--ESPN and the Wide World of Sports."  There were 700 people, and approximately 8,500 garments.

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Sanaa is a South African themed premiere food location restaurant, a part of the Animal Kingdom Lodge, located in Kidani Village, Disney World.  Unique, Sanaa is built in a circular fashion with high windows all around, so that a small savannah complete with wild animals, is able to be viewed from every seat in the establishment.  Resulting from research involving fabrics, textiles, and colors, costumes were built for the wait staff, as authentically as possible, and yet were as comfortable and functional as they were germane to the culture that the restaurant represented. 

There were two kinds of costumes: The wait staff, who were dressed in very colorful electric blue and rusts, wearing a dyed poly cotton print that imitated primitive kuba cloth, or twine.  The shirts were blue, pants were spice, with vests that were brown, beige, or gold.  Everything was a solid but the vests; The greeters represented international students, and their costumes depicted their countries of origin--daily garments worn for men and women. 

For the men, a round little pillbox hat or kufi, was worn; a dashiki or v-necked top, and pants.  A unique print, created by the Disney costume people, who came up with their own design after studying many others.  The colors were all earth tones of spice, orange, yellow, chocolate, red.    The women  wore long, fitted tops to mid hip, and a fitted skirt with a flair at the bottom, in colors that tied in with the wait staff, in rusts and blues.

The more inspiration one gives to the designers, the better it is.  The interior color samples, tile, wall coverings, table coverings, the particular job to design for, and involvement from project managers.  "Disney is considered a leader in innovation re: fabrics, prints, designs, new ways of sewing things.  It is always about surprising the guests," said Pam .   The garments must be functional, and the casts love them.  In addition, they must fit into the atmosphere of the venue, and the guests love them. "  There are 50 wait staff or 250 sets of costumes; 8 greeters, or 40 sets of costumes.  There is always a full size range kept in stock.

"We are so proud of what we produce here, and it's nice to have a chance to brag about our product," laughed Jodi White.  "We are the industry leaders in the type of work we do, and it's nice to be recognized for it."

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