The Americans

It was the last week of summer. The younger kids were back from camp, the college kids were knocking off from summer jobs for that last wild week of parties at the beach. The summer travelers were siphoning back through gigantic customs bottlenecks, and millions of women throughout the U.S. were getting set for the months ahead. But no matter how frantic or busy, each somehow found time to leaf through the fashion magazines and scan the women's pages of the daily papers in search of one thing: where is that new coat, new suit, new dress or ball gown for me?

She can relax. Never have clothes been more stylish, well-made and--more to the point--wearable. As always, they are suited to the American woman's casual, active way of life, which has made comfort, simplicity and an effortless fit the hallmark of U.S. clothing everywhere. More important, as the American woman's tastes and interests have become increasingly varied and sophisticated, the $15 billion-a-year U.S. industry has learned how to create a distinctively "American look" not only for sportswear and daytime outfits--long American specialties --but in formal ball gowns and cocktail dresses as well (see color pages).

The female wails of "But there's nothing for me!" are rapidly fading. From the U.S. collections, a woman can find something sparkling and appropriate for an embassy reception or dinner at the Colony--done in the elegant American style. Counsels Vogue's Diana Vreeland: "The days of fashion dictatorship are dead as mutton. Each of us has the opportunity for everything --to dress with individuality, suitability, gaiety, comfort, chic. You have only to take the opportunity--to use the New York collections for all they are worth."

From Kooky to Effortless. Americans do still, of course, buy European haute couture. Their purchases account for 40% of the trade in the Paris couture houses. Since an original Balenciaga ball gown can cost $12,000, or a Chanel suit $2,200, pacesetters such as Mrs. William Paley and Jackie Kennedy also snap up the "line-for-line" copies available in the U.S. Manhattan Socialite Mrs. John Converse happily admits, "I love Ohrbach copies." She also likes American designers like Bill Blass and Mainbocher. Nowadays, the Duchess of Windsor, Mrs. Loel Guinness and Mrs. Jeanne Murray Vanderbilt shop on both sides of the ocean.

When Amanda Burden was named to the Ten Best-Dressed list last year at the age of 22, she exclaimed, "But I buy everything off the racks at Bendel's." She was doing what comes naturally. No longer does the American society woman depend on Paris to supply her clothes. U.S. fashion can boast an elite handful of internationally famous "name" designers whose clothes, at their best, are as genuinely original as anything Paris has to offer. Lauren Bacall likes almost anything done by Manhattan's Norell, though she feels that Chanel has "a great look--but not necessarily today's."

"What's beginning to happen in our houses," says ex-Model China Machado, now an editor on Harper's Bazaar, "is that we are developing a Designer's Look." Each designer strives to create an individual personality that comes across in all his clothes; and they range from, say, the kooky inventiveness of Rudi Gernreich to the effortless poise of Ferdinando Sarmi. As to the best U.S. designers, each fashion expert has his preference, but two are universally ranked at the top:

--Greying, distinguished Norman Norell, 66, is today the dean of U.S. designers. As an apprentice, he designed costumes for Rudolph Valentino and Gloria Swanson. Today his Manhattan collections still retain much of the sleek, stark, flamboyant yet functional modernity that was characteristic of the late 1920s and early 1930s--and remain equally timely in the 1960s. Norell pioneered culottes and fitted jackets with pleated skirts several seasons ago, showed the now universal pants suit in 1964. His most famous dress is undoubtedly the basic, columnar, $3,000 sequined full-length sheath that he has been making, with minor variations, since around 1954. -- Philadelphia-born James Galanos, 42, who has worked out of Los Angeles since 1948 because "I like it here," and besides, "if you are good, people will seek you out, no matter where you live." They do, although his location also makes him a natural for more fashionable members of the movie colony, such as Rosalind Russell, Arlene Dahl, Mrs. Robert Stack and Mrs. Kirk Douglas. He has a flair that strikes Italian designers like Emilio Pucci as quintessentially American. His trademark is an extravagantly Californian style: exuberant use of chiffon, bold sun colors such as orange and yellow, the revival of striking art nouveau prints. His magnificent "at home" wear this season includes $1,055 bead-encrusted beige-and-ginger-striped pajamas and a $1,700 gold-metallic chiffon burnoose with a jeweled bib.

For the Woman Who Dares. The U.S. has only one genuine established couturier in the Parisian sense of the word, meaning a designer who makes one-of-a-kind dresses for individual cus tomers. He is Manhattan's aging Mainbocher, 75, born Main Rousseau Bocher in Chicago--and his dresses can be seen on "CeeZee" Guest and "Babs" Paley. But the wave of the future really lies with the younger designers who produce ready-to-wear. To Marc Bohan of Christian Dior in Paris, California's puckish Rudi Gernreich, 44, is the standout. No designer for conformists, he will go all out to make his point, reaped a whirlwind of publicity in 1964 with his topless bathing suits. He only sold 3,000, but everyone has paid attention to him ever since, last year for his "cutout" fashions, this year for his daring halter-necked black jersey dinner gown and his suit tailored like a surgeon's apron.

Manhattan's polished, partygoing Bill Blass, 44, is more typical of the new

U.S. designers. His clothes are country and casual, designed specifically for a tawny blonde whom he describes as "a bit of a conformist but a woman who dares a little at night." A brunette like Manhattan's Louise Savitt also looks good in them. French-born Jacques Tiffeau, 38, is famed for his astute suits and his imaginative use of wools in evening gowns, which he designs for Monte-Sano & Pruzan as well as Tiffeau & Busch. He feels "a woman should have more personality than her clothes, but that's rare."

Beige & Brass. An obvious exception to his rule is Pauline Trigere, 53, who is not only a designer but on the best-dressed list herself. Her evening capes and jaguar-skin coats are naturals for dramatic entrances in restaurants and at opening nights. Petite Mollie Parnis, 61, has executed dresses for three First Ladies, Mamie, Jackie and Lady Bird. Dashing Oscar de la Renta, 32, did Anne Ford's wedding gown and Ethel Kennedy's Latin American tour wardrobe.

Bespectacled Geoffrey Beene, 39, works in a room decorated in beige "because it has a softness"--sometimes designs to the music of the Tijuana

Brass. He favors soft colors and subtle tailoring, but once in a while he lets go with a really jazzy number in sequins or the sizzling print preferred by Mrs. William Anderson III of Nash ville, Tenn. Newest designer to hit the big league is elfin (5 ft. 8 in.) Chester Weinberg, 35, whose first collection this fall was snapped up by Manhattan's Bergdorf Goodman, Bonwit Teller and Lord & Taylor. Among his early clients: Manhattan Socialite Judy Peabody--and Barbra Streisand.

Is Paris Dying? With new talent surging to the fore, does this mean that American designers now set the styles-that Paris, the fashion capital of the world for the past four centuries, is dying? Many designers and editors in the U.S. insist today that it does. They point out how many times in recent years U.S. designers have shown the way. St. Laurent's "pop art" dresses this year look much like U.S. teen-age fad dresses of last summer. The hit of Bohan's collection for Dior this July was the "Doctor Zhivago" long coat, coupled with a short-skirted suit; yet the U.S.'s Gernreich showed the same style in 1963, and half a dozen other American designers showed it in 1965 and May 1966. "Paris has no longer got what we go to look for," says Manufacturer Mollie Parnis. "Everything in Paris," says China Machado, "is a copy of the U.S."

Other designers are not so sure. Says Fashion Columnist Eugenia Sheppard: "Paris is still as important to fashion as Santa Claus is to Christmas. It may be a sentimentally cherished myth, but there's nothing like it to make the whole world feel like shopping." Adds Galanos: "It is not enough for a single designer to lower a hem or change a silhouette. It must still happen in Paris to catch on."

Spontaneous & Geared. Right now, U.S. manufacturers are poring over the new French couture dresses freshly arrived in Manhattan. For the past ten years, the basic shape, from sack to shift to chemise, has been no-waisted. This year Balenciaga, St. Laurent, Givenchy and Chanel all showed belts on their dresses and started tailoring their line to the body. Predicts Women's Wear Daily President John Fairchild: "Six months to a year from now, women will begin to think it's smart to wear fitted clothes again. Balenciaga has the authority to make that change. That doesn't mean he was the only one to have that idea. Norell, for example, has been showing belted dresses for the past three years."

Which makes the point most retailers insist on: today everyone influences everyone else, and spectacular new ideas can spring up anywhere. Where U.S. designers take the lead is in converting their ideas into high-quality ready-to-wear dresses that need only a hemline fixed to fit. "Did you ever buy something in Paris?" mutters Suit Manufacturer Jerry Silverman. "You have to go for fittings. They pick up the shoulder, they pick up the sleeve, they pick up a bust dart--you go out of your cotton-picking mind."

American women are too spontaneous, too geared to a busy life, to put up with yesteryear's seamstress methods. What they want--and what the U.S. fashion industry makes sure they get--are youthful gowns that can make any evening incandescent, tweeds that swing naturally through park and down lane, colors that are fresh and right for every season. The results once again in the autumn of 1966 are calculated to make America's well-dressed woman the envy of the world.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.