Vintage Fashion History: L'Aiglon and Jonathan Logan

Summary

A follower named Michelle mailed me two dresses out of pure kindness, and she had no idea she'd sent me two of my favorite labels on the planet. So naturally I went and researched both of them until my head nearly exploded. This is the story of L'Aiglon and Jonathan Logan: one a tiny family shop in Philadelphia, one the biggest dress company in the world, both dead of the exact same thing.

Along the way there's a founder's suicide during the Depression, a son who went to federal prison rather than name names in front of the House Un-American Activities Committee, and Liz Claiborne quietly designing uncredited dresses for sixteen years. Also a lot of math about what clothes actually used to cost.

• L'Aiglon: founded 1898 as Bibberman Brothers, 1,400 dresses a day out of one Philadelphia building, liquidated 1975 after 77 years
• How to date a L'Aiglon tag: the registered-trademark R means 1963 or later, and "Lady L'Aiglon" pins it to 1962–63 exactly
• Herbert Bibberman, one of the Hollywood Ten, did six months in federal prison and then made Salt of the Earth, now in the National Film Registry
• Jonathan Logan: first womenswear-only company listed on the NYSE (1960), $250 million in sales by 1969, 42 plants, over two dozen divisions
• Liz Claiborne spent 16 years at Logan's Youth Guild division before founding her own company in 1976
• The real number: a normal 1960s dress cost $185–$330 in today's money. We didn't get cheaper clothes, we got worse ones

Transcript

One of my followers gifted me two dresses. She didn't want anything in return. She just said, "Hey, I've got these old dresses. This lady loves old dresses. I'm going to send them to her." And she did. And I freaked out and it was amazing.

Hi. Hello. I'm Sami. If you're new here, I sell vintage clothes. I also upcycle vintage materials into new clothes, and I teach you how to do it, too. If you're not new here, it's nice to see you again. How you been? How's your mom and them? But another thing I do is develop special interests and niche topics that not very many people care about. And that is where I truly shine. So today we're going to talk about this package I received in the mail. The two brands that made these items and why I think they're the absolute coolest. Welcome. Buckle up. We're going to get weird and we're going to have fun.

Okay, so Michelle's been following me for a while and she reached out to tell me that she had bought a couple dresses on Facebook Marketplace. She got them from an elderly woman who had gotten them from her mother-in-law and she wanted to wear these dresses, but when they arrived, they didn't quite work out for her, and she just wanted to see them go to someone who would appreciate them. That's me. I appreciate them. She didn't show me any pictures or tell me anything about them. She asked for my address and because I have zero self-preservation skills, I gave it to her, a stranger on the internet. And a few days later, I received a box in the mail. And I opened that box with zero regard for my life, as I do everything. And what I found inside had me freaking out. I immediately posted a video about it because I was so excited. I will interject that here.

I'm so excited right now. One of my followers sent me this in the mail, the most amazing card. And she also sent me two of my favorite labels on the entire planet. Her name is Michelle and she is amazing. I don't know why, but she felt it heavy on her heart to send a stranger on the internet a couple dresses that she loved. And I love them so much, too.

Okay, first of all, lookie here. That's right. L'Aiglon. I know I'm saying it wrong. I'm very American. But here's the deal. It's 1898. We have a family of Russian immigrants who started by making house dresses and nurse uniforms and ended up in the pages of Vogue. Hello. You know, I love this brand. You know, I love their entire story. And my personal favorite, little Jonathan Logan. Did you know that in 1969 this was the biggest dress company on the planet earth?

Both of these dresses are from the early 1960s. Both of them were union made by American workers in American factories. Huge brands. And then guess what happened? They both died. They both died a terrible death. And you already know why, my friends. Fast fashion, cheap imports. And I can't wait to dive in to the history of both of these brands because, you know, I have to now. You know, I have to. These are survivors of an industry that barely exists anymore. And somebody mailed them to me for free because she thought that I would like them. And boy, was she right. I am so excited. Do you think they fit? Oh my god. I hope they fit. Michelle, it fits like a freaking glove. Are you kidding me? Thank you.

These are two dresses in fantastic shape, which if you've ever bought a vintage package off the internet, you know how rare that is. Okay, one is L'Aiglon. L'Aiglon. I'm saying that wrong and I will say it wrong a hundred different ways, a hundred different times throughout this video. Take a sip of water every time I say a French word poorly. Thank you. One is Jonathan Logan.

One of these dresses was made by a Philadelphia company that made over 1,400 dresses a day. And the other dress was made by a brand who was at one point the largest manufacturer of dresses in the world. Not in the US, in the world. Also, one of these dresses connects directly to a guy who went to federal prison instead of snitching on his friends. You know, I love that. Stick around. And if you happen to be in a thrift store right now, you've probably already walked by some items made by these brands. You might have even looked them over and thought nothing of them. But to me, they are special. And let me tell you why.

Okay, L'Aiglon. So, first the name L'Aiglon translates to the eaglet and in 1900 it was the talk of the town. Okay, the eaglet was a nickname for Napoleon's son. And there was this play and it was wildly famous. Everybody knew it. It was like the Hamilton of its time. And it was called L'Aiglon. And there was this dress company in Philadelphia. And they looked at that and they thought, "Hell yeah, brother. That's us now." So they became L'Aiglon. Before that they were known as Bibberman Make. I can understand and respect the rebrand.

Bibberman Brothers started in Philadelphia in 1898. Two brothers Joseph and Louis from a Russian Jewish immigrant family. And they didn't start out making anything glamorous. It was house dresses, wash dresses, uniforms for nurses and maids. And I think that's the key to like this whole label because it never left. Even when they were advertising in Vogue years later, these dresses were built to be washed. Not dry cleaned, not babied. Washed. They were cotton, linen, rayon, and then later cotton poly blends, screen printed florals. They were real clothes for women who had [ __ ] to do. I bet they all had dirty fingernails, but I digress.

At their peak, 1,400 dresses a day were being made out of their Philadelphia location. One location, 1,400 dresses one day. That math is insane.

Okay, but let's talk money because that I think is the part that really reframes all of this and vintage in general and fashion because these were affordable clothes made to be worn everyday, right? They ran $18 to $30, which probably sounds super cheap and affordable to you. You're probably thinking, "Okay, Shein, pop off." But that's where you'd be wrong. Because adjusted for inflation, that $18 to $30 becomes more like $200 to $330. You know, affordable for daily wear.

In case you're not listening to me, fast fashion has ruined your expectations of what things should cost. You think that you should have a closet filled with hundreds of pieces that you wear one or two times. That is not what it was meant to be. You were meant to have like seven dresses and you'd wear them once a day. Maybe you have eight and you alternate them so that you're not wearing the same thing every Monday. But you didn't have this like mass consumerism where we're buying every possible thing from the most unethical of sources. But I digress.

That $18 to $30 dress was a midpoint fashion. Middle class moms could afford it. Housewives loved it. People had no problem purchasing dresses at that price point. It was great. Affordable fashion for the modern woman. That tells you two things. Number one, clothes used to be more expensive. And number two, people owned way fewer of them. And look what $200 would get you. Beautiful hems, perfect seam finishes, print matching details. It's gorgeous. This was cheap. Made at volume from a factory doing over a thousand units a day. Please, I'm begging you, go look at the inside stitching of any modern dress you own. Please compare the two.

When it comes to dating L'Aiglon tags, here's a little screenshot time for you. Okay, one. Do you see the little R in this circle? That's the registered trademark. They registered in 1963. So, the R tells you that it was made in 1963 or later. No R, you're earlier. Easy peasy. Two, sublabels. Zendra maybe is their juniors line. It was made from 1939 until at least 1965. Dauphine's petites. It was made 1958 through at least 1971. And three, this is the one that I love. If it says Lady L'Aiglon, congratulations. You just dated a dress to a 2-year window. They only used that label in 1962 and 1963. Two years. So, a lot easier to date that one. The union tags will also help you date it. In the '70s, the tag switched to a red, white, and blue, and in the '60s, they were all blue. There's some more variations than that, but just at a high level, if you see the red, white, and blue union label, you're in the 70s.

And then there's the part of this label that nobody talks about. The founder was Joseph Bibberman. And in 1933, in the middle of the Great Depression, with the company in trouble, he died by suicide. He had two sons and neither one of them wanted [ __ ] to do with his dress business. One of them, Edward, went to art school in Philadelphia and then on to Paris and then on to LA. He became a painter and he ended up doing federally commissioned murals, the kind of public art that came out of the New Deal. The other brother, Herbert, he craved the theater and so that's where he went. He left for New York and then Hollywood and he became a film director.

So the sons went and made art and the company continued on without them. It was the Bibberman brothers. Joseph's brother Louis co-founded it. So, the family kept it running on the Louis side of the family instead of the Joseph side of the family for another 42 years after Joseph's death, which honestly is kind of its own story. Like, the guy dies, his family keeps hundreds of people employed for four more decades. That's nice. That's nice. Tragic, beautiful.

Now, let's talk Hollywood Ten. I need to explain something because those of you who are my age or younger, you might not have learned about the Hollywood Ten. Herbert Bibberman, he was one of the Hollywood Ten. So here's what that means. After World War II, Congress had a committee, the House Un-American Activities Committee, the HUAC, and their whole deal was hunting down communists in America. Things kind of went off the rails for a bit there and in 1947 they were like you know what if we control the movies we control everything. So they turned that focus to Hollywood and they were like there's commies in them there hills and they went on a little witch hunt, if you will.

They put them in a room in Washington and they said on the record under oath, "Are you now or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party?" And then they asked them to name other people. Okay. Well, if you weren't, tell us about your friends who were. Are you kidding me? But okay, give us the names or else. Ten of those people refused. They didn't plead the fifth either. They stood on the First Amendment. They argued that the government does not get to ask an American what he believes or what he is associated with. Full stop, baby. Not "I decline to answer." More like actually [ __ ] you ain't got the right to ask me that question, so please sit down. You love to see it. I certainly love to see it.

So Congress charged all 10 of them with contempt. Every single one was convicted. Thousand dollar fines, prison sentences from six months to a year. Herbert Bibberman did six months in federal prison for refusing to be a rat. No stitches for him because he ain't no snitch, my friends. And then the studios blacklisted them, which means the industry got together and agreed that these men would never work in this town again. Not fired, unemployable. All of these studio heads said, "Me, me, me, me, me," and they were like, "We're not doing it." Some of them started writing under fake names. Some of them never worked again at all. Careers, incomes, marriages, entire lives gone. And this wasn't 10 people, by the way. The blacklist ended up swallowing hundreds of writers, actors, directors, musicians. People lost everything for signing a petition in 1938.

And look, I'm not going to pretend to be neutral about this. You know me. When your government sits you down and demands that you inform on your friends for what they believe, you say no. And that's the thing that the First Amendment is actually for. The people who cooperated, who gave up the names, a lot of them kept working and a lot of them spent the rest of their lives being asked about it. What's it like to snitch on your friends? What's it like to be a rat?

And here's how the story ends, and it's the best part. Bibberman gets out of prison and he wants to get back into making movies, but no one will hire him. So he says, "Okay, fine. I'll make my own damn movie." It's called Salt of the Earth. It's about a real strike. Zinc miners in New Mexico, mostly Mexican-American, fighting for safe conditions and to be treated like, oh, I don't know, actual human beings. And when the men get legally blocked from picketing, their wives take to the picket line. And the movie is honestly more about the women than the men.

In 1954, he cast actual miners from the actual strike. The film unions forbade their members from working on it. The lead actress got deported to Mexico during production. The American Legion threatened to picket any theater that showed it. The House of Representatives formally denounced it, a movie, and when it finally came out, 13 theaters in the entire country would run it. In 1992, the Library of Congress added it to the National Film Registry as a film that is culturally and historically significant to the United States of America. So, suck on that. So, they buried it and it outlived them. And that's the family that made this dress.

L'Aiglon was liquidated in 1975. 77 years. And the reason was the same as everybody else. They couldn't compete with the cheap imported clothing. The original factory building is still standing in Philadelphia. It's on the National Register of Historic Places. The building outlived the company.

All right, welcome to act three where we talk about my boy Jonathan Logan. This guy, I promise you, you have walked past this label a thousand times in every thrift store you have ever been in. Let's go.

The year is 1944. We've got a guy named David Schwartz, 10 employees, and that's the whole company. 10 folks making dresses for young women. Not trendy, just classic, pretty, affordable. 16 years later, by 1960, Jonathan Logan becomes the first company that made only women's clothes to be listed on the New York Stock Exchange. Sit with that. It's 1960 and Wall Street has never taken a women's dress company seriously enough to list one. Dresses were girl stuff, not real business.

And then this thing goes vertical. In the early 60s, they were making over $100 million a year. By 1969, $250 million in sales, 13 million in profit, 42 manufacturing plants, and more than 20,000 retailers. The largest ready-to-wear company in the world.

And here's what's wild. For all that scale, it wasn't cheap. I have a 1955 department store ad for Jonathan Logan. It's a corduroy dress with a removable dickey. Don't you laugh. And it was $14.95. A velveteen full skirted dress, $22.95. Wool tweed with an angora collar, $25 flat. In today's money, that's $185 to $310. If you notice, that is the same price point as L'Aiglon. The scrappy Philadelphia company doing it all out of one shop is charging the same price point as this big guy, the biggest dress maker in the world. Their prices are aligned. Are you understanding what I'm telling you? And that's just what a dress cost. Two, three hundred bucks in today's money from a factory made by someone who was in a union and got paid. And that's a number I want you to hold on to for the rest of this video. Okay?

And I don't love this part, but they got big by eating everybody else. Like very Pac-Man style with it. 14 brands eventually in more than two dozen divisions. Butte Knit, Youth Guild, The Villager, Bleecker Street, Rosemary Reid, Anne Klein, there's a French name I always pronounce wrong. London Fog, Misty Harbor. Write them down, baby, because they are all Jonathan Logan, too. If you shopped in a department store in the 1960s, you were buying Jonathan Logan, whether you knew it or not. That sneaky little bastard.

Knowing all of this can also help you date Jonathan Logan items. The division names will narrow the year for you. Bleecker Street was late 1966 through 1974. New Issue started in '69. Act One, Two, and Three were all early 70s. The sub label tells you the era before you even look at the construction.

It was also a status label, which surprises people because now you find them for $6. There's an article from 1961 describing the girl everybody wanted to be. The cool one, the one with taste. And the line is just "her dresses are L'Aiglon or Jonathan Logan." They were just like, "Hey, you think she's cool? It's either L'Aiglon or it's Logan, baby." Jonathan Logan was the original JLo.

Oh, and a fun thing you probably don't know, and I didn't even know until recently, our girl Liz Claiborne has ties to Jonathan. Okay, so their Youth Guild division had a designer there for 16 years between 1960 and 1976. In '76, she quit to start her own company. Her name Liz Claiborne. She spent 16 years designing for a division of Jonathan Logan and then she walks out and builds Liz Claiborne Incorporated. She becomes the first woman to found a company that made the Fortune 500. Shout out Lizzy, my queen. So, somewhere out there there are Youth Guild dresses with no designer credit and Liz drew those, which hang on to that because I'm coming back.

So, the founder's son, Richard Schwartz, took over in the mid 1960s, and he ran it through the peak. In 1982, though, there was a hostile takeover, $168 million. The Schwartz family sold out completely in '85, bankruptcy by '90. The last mill closed in 1991.

While I was researching this, I had a thought and I want to be honest about it with you guys. A company that buys up two dozen labels and puts them all under one roof, that's a conglomerate, right? Like that's some AT&T Cingular Wireless [ __ ] And my gut reaction is ew, gross. Do I actually love my boy Jonathan? He's not even really named Jonathan. Can I trust anything about you? But I've looked into it a little more and you know what? The answer is more complicated than I wanted it to be. I like a nice neat little box and this just wasn't one.

So, first of all, a lot of the divisions weren't bought. They were built. Bleecker Street, New Issue, Act One, Two, Three, Youth Guild, Logan made those all in-house. So, it wasn't vulture behavior. It was just a big company like launching new lines. And the ones that they did buy, the story isn't usually like Jonathan Logan came in with a bunch of money and destroyed my business. It was more like the founders weren't doing great, so they sold it. Uh, for instance, The Villager, the preppy label that I love, my plaid pants that I wear all the time. Yes, they're The Villager. They were selling in 1969 and it went to Russ Togs first and then it went to Logan. So like he wasn't even the first buyer. I can't be mad at that. And then the founder Max Raab, he went off and started another company. So he was fine. He was just tired of that one. Liz, she stayed for 16 years. Nobody stays 16 years at a place that's crushing them, right? Like she clearly enjoyed it to some degree.

Here's the part that I do think is a real cost, and it's not about money. When you swallow 24 labels, the people disappear into the machine. There's no designer credit on the Youth Guild dresses. Liz worked there for 16 years, and when you find one of her dresses in the thrift store, you won't even know she had anything to do with it. That stinks. And that's what consolidation actually takes. Not necessarily quality, but like attribution, authorship, the record of who made the thing. And as a person who makes things, that part really just rubs me the wrong way.

But no, I'm not glad they failed because look at what actually killed them. Jonathan Logan didn't die of being too big or too greedy or too corporate. It got a hostile takeover by a bigger company in 1982 and they were dismantled for parts. It got eaten exactly by what they did to everyone else. Someone showed up with more money and took them out. And L'Aiglon, this little family shop in Philadelphia that never bought anybody, died the exact same death. Cheap labor somewhere else. So once again, the villain isn't Jonathan Logan. The villain got Jonathan Logan, too.

Two companies that could not have been any different. One was a family shop in Philly making 1,400 dresses a day for 77 years. The other was a $250 million publicly traded empire with 42 factories. One was tiny, one was the biggest on earth. And they died 15 years apart of the exact same thing. Not bad design, not customers leaving. Imports, cheap labor somewhere else. And that's the whole story of the American garment manufacturing industry in one sentence. And it happened to the smallest ones. It happened to the biggest ones. And it's happened to every single one in between.

And remember that number, two, $300 in today's money. That's what a normal dress cost a normal woman. Look at how these are made. Look at the hem, the seam finish, the pattern match. This isn't artisanal, handcrafted, one-of-a-kind anything. This is factory work made fast, made by the hundreds for somebody who is not rich. And it is better than almost anything you can buy new at that price point today. That's just facts, baby. We didn't get cheaper clothes. We got worse clothes. We got more of them, but they're all worse. And somebody a lot further away than a factory in Philly is paying the price. That's why I'd rather sew my own clothes or wear something 60 years old than participate in what replaced it.

Michelle, you mailed me a box because you thought I'd like what was in it. You had no idea that you actually sent me two of my favorite labels. You didn't know that a guy did 6 months in federal prison cuz he wouldn't be a snitch. You just knew that they were nice and someone should have them. I love that.

Also, these aren't for sale right now. I plan to keep them. I love them. They fit me. So me. If you've got a label in your closet that you can't identify, send me a comment. Let me know. I would love to do a little research into the brands that are making your clothes that you're curious about. And honestly, this is one of my favorite things. I have no self-control. I will deep dive until my head explodes. So, you know, help me have an aneurysm or whatever. And if you want to watch me make something instead of eulogize a dead company, go watch my sewing playlist. I love you. Thanks for being here.

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