It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that shopping bag. Time was when the beautiful violets of Bonwit Teller bloomed everywhere.
The Chicago branch of the legendary New York shopping mecca stood proudly at the corners of Pearson Street and Michigan Avenue. It was a wonderful place and I remember it fondly.
In fact, in 1969 I worked at Bonwit’s. In the blouse department. But I can’t say that I recall that time with any special warmth, however.
I loathed buttoning up all the buttons on those blouses. And I heartily disliked standing around all day. I clearly remember changing my shoes each day after lunch. Vitally important if you didn’t want your feet to give up the ghost.
I wasn’t too keen on the customers, either. The portly women were annoyed that the blouses never seemed to fit them correctly.
And then there was that petty time clock punchcard system.
Alas, I was not cut out for retail- although I did hang in there until 1970. I even went along with Bonwit’s into the brand new state-of-the-art John Hancock Center. This was very exciting, and a girlfriend talked me into moving when they crossed Michigan Avenue.
Right into the shoe department.
My girlfriend and I were the worst shoe salesmen of ALL time. We would cavalierly toss the customers the shoe horns rather than lean down and actually touch their feet. Yuck.
What I mostly liked were the discounts on the shoes that came with the job.
But when I had enough shoes, I turned in my notice.
Retail was not my cup of tea.
But thinking about Bonwit’s triggered a whole flood of memories about long-gone but truly irreplaceable Chicago shopping institutions.
Like Blum’s Vogue.
Opened in 1910 on South Michigan Avenue by Harry Blum and his wife Becky, I came to know it well after it moved to North Michigan Avenue in 1931.
It was a sumptuous place. (It carried dresses by Jimmy Galanos as early as 1952.) And although I was too young and too poor to buy his gorgeous wares, Blum’s became a watchword for me of style and elegance.
Speaking of style, do you remember Martha Weathered on Michigan Avenue?
Again I was just a little too young and a little too cash-strapped to shop there in its heyday, but I remember wandering in just to soak up the atmosphere of luxe that Mrs. Weathered championed amongst her socialite clientele.
Martha may have been doyenne of the 20’s 30′ and 40’s, but when the 60’s youthquake hit, I was turned on and tuned in to Parapheranalia.
This was the coolest place ever. I bought mini dresses, a pair of rust-colored velour jeans and a black velvet “gaucho'”cropped pant suit- complete with white ruffled lace blouse. I wore the jeans and the gaucho outfit until they fell apart.
Stanley Korshak’s on Michigan Avenue was my very own special jam. Korshak’s began selling luxury one-of-a-kind items in 1909, and from 1980 until the day they closed in 1990, I spent practically all my disposable dress income there.
Here’s a little Thierry Mugler number I bought in 1986. It’s now on display at the Chicago Historical Museum in a show honoring the Magnificent Mile.
And then there was Ultimo. When Joan and Jerry Weinstein opened it in 1969, I bought a groovy pair of crocheted hot pants. OMG.
I can’t quite seem to locate them, but I also bought this mod leather choker.
And from then until its closing in 2010, I bought everything from men’s ties to rain hats and, of course, couture when ever my clothes allowance would let me.
Marshall Field’s, the granddaddy of them, is gone now, too.
It wasn’t the clothes department there I mourn. It was the toy department. Specifically the Steiff stuffed animal section.
Here are some of my favorites.
Christmastime with my grandmother at Marshall Field’s was a special treat. Somehow Macy’s just doesn’t have the same magic.
Well, my nostalgic shopping spree is over. There are plenty of stores I didn’t mention, but my charge card is all maxed out.
I’ll let this gal pick up the shopping bags now.
The toy department at Marshall Field’s happened to be the birthplace of a Steiff animal who went on to be an Ojibwa legend – Jocko! It looks like one of his cousins made it into your picture.
Sweet! My little guy’s name is Jocko, too. This coincidence is pure ‘Bwa. Thanks, Bob. You win the Early Bird Award today.
From the time I first came to Chicago after law school, I remember lunchtime trips at Christmas time to Marshall Fields toy department just to look at the model train set up there. It reminded me of my childhood in the 1950s and I just loved it.
My Mother loved eating lunch and watching people in the Walnut Room, ordering a Field’s Special with a big chunk of iceberg lettuce and a huge mound of Thousand Island dressing. So healthy!!
The packages in the dark green paper would come by UPS for days after her many shopping trips under the great clock.
Thanks for the sense memories this morning, Jack. From the salad to the wrapping paper, you’ve got Marshall Fields in a (wal) nutshell.
Thanks, Ellen — a cracked-up walnut shell, perhaps.
I knew a shopgirl once who couldn’t sell shoes to Imelda Marcos. See, you weren’t the worst.
Very cute, Doc. Ok, second worst.
Do you remember JAX? I dreamed about shopping there… could only afford the air in that store…
OMG! Jax! The slacks and sleek little tops. It was the chicest in California cool. Thanks for the memory, Vivian. I love it.
The fond memories of these stores is understandable. There was a time (long ago and far, far away) when the department stores actually had people who waited on you. With the exception of Nordstroms, service in a department store is more rare than the Cubs winning a World Series. My wife and I went to Macy’s last night and learned what Moses must have felt like as he wandered the desert for 40 years. I was trying to find the men’s underwear department but there was no one around who worked there to ask for directions. So we started looking. We went past the women’s perfume area, the women’s business suit area, the women’s shoe area, jewelry, purses, make up artists, 2 massage chairs, and after searching for about 20 minutes, wound up in the women’s underwear department, at which point I fleetingly thought “hey, at least it’s underwear and who would know?” But I quickly realized I was suffering from department store fatigue. So we trekked on. Home furnishings, patio tables, men’s suits (finally we were getting warm), jeans, shorts…then my eagle eyed wife spotted men’s socks. She reasoned we must be getting close. Sure enough, there they were. After getting what I needed, it was time to pay. Finding a cash register was easy, finding a person working at a cash register was the hard part. Another 10 minutes of wandering and I thought I spotted a cashier. But when I got close, there was no one there. It was just a mirage. I needed water. We finally found someone who would let us pay so we could leave. I gave him my credit card and for the next 10 minutes he tried to sell me on why I needed a Macy’s card. I was thinking “please, I will pay you double. Just let me out of here.” Finally we made it outside. Free at last. Free at last. Thank God all mighty, we were free at last.
You’re so right, Steve. I’m so glad you brought this up. I voted write a post about my wonderful sales ladies and salesmen of long ago.They WERE the stores. Sorry you had this experience. Glad you’re out of shopping Hell.
When I was young I was particularly fascinated by the magic department, where they often had someone doing magic tricks and the stamp department where they had some very special stamps on display. I also loved the chicken croquettes on the kid’s menu in the 7th floor dining room.
The Magic department! I had forgotten about that. That was really nifty. And chicken croquettes were my all-time favorite thing to eat there. Chacun a chacunne. Merci, Jay.
Do you remember Joseph’s ( the shoe store ) ?
Everyone had to keep their shoes int their green and white boxes.
And if you had Joseph boxes for all your shoes, your closet was the coolest place ever…
OMG! Sherry. Practically all my shoes came from Joseph’s. I wore a pair today, as a matter of fact. But I had forgotten that thing about the boxes. You brought back such a fond memory. Thank you for the smile.
Our grandmother was suddenly widowed still in her 50’s,. As an activity, she would separately take each of her grandchildren to Marshall Fields for a Saturday afternoon outing. We’d step into the store and she would say we had one hour to decide and she would buy us anything in the store we wanted, but only one thing. We’d struggle with our decision, and it was invariable a toy of some sort. Not my brother Mitch. He had her in the toy department, adjoining the pool table department. He put his head down and said he didn’t want anything that day because she wouldn’t buy it anyway. She said yes, that was the rule, he could have one thing, so what was it and she would buy it. 12 year old Mitch pointed to the full size regulation pool tables he conveniently position himself next to. He pointed to the pool table, but said it was ok, he understood she wouldn’t buy it, but he really wanted one. She went to the pay phone and called our mom asking whether she could get Mitch the pool table. Our mom said absolutely not. Our grandmother ignored our mother and 2 or 3 days later, the green Marshall Fields truck delivered the pool table to our house. Mitch became the pool shark of Central Junior High in Glencoe, but then after starting New Trier East, rarely played and the table became a gathering spot for basement junk….. He was the first grandchild and played that card well. He had our well fixed grandmother wrapped around his finger. She also bought him his first car when he graduated HS. He was the only “only child” with 2 brothers!! My brother Jimmy and I never pushed for any big ticket items.
I’m reeling from all of this. Paging Dr. Freud! Thanks for sharing, Arnie. I’ll just stand mute on this one. Sorry I set off this dark memory of sibling rivalry, grandmother-ignoring-mother’s-wishes, early widowhood and The Hustler.
Though I was not raised in Chicago, I understand that Field’s had a fleet of delivery trucks. Apparently they made many visits to my in-laws’ apartment. In fact one of the family maids wound up marrying the Field’s delivery man.
I love this! It’s so sweet. I think it would make a great rom com cute meet. Thanks, David. Best to Joy.
The Fields delivery man brought cases of 222 household goods including these huge tubs of laundry detergent which he brought to the basement. They were great for storing toys when empty. You could also make fun things with them and a big imagination.
Very nice, Susie. I had forgotten about their private 222 label goods. Thank you so much for ringing in here.