The debts one accrues when writing a book are impossible to repay. Nevertheless, it is a pleasure to acknowledge the many colleagues and friends who supported this work. My early research was funded by a grant from the Faculty in the Arts, Humanities and Social Sciences (FAHSS) initiative at Stony Brook University, and work with the Messel Family Dress Collection at the Brighton Museum & Art Gallery was supported by the Dean’s Excellence Fund. Many archivists helped to make that work fruitful, but Greta Pawlowski (formerly of Aquascutum), Martin Pel (Royal Pavilion & Museums, Brighton & Hove), and Sebastian Wormell (Harrods) deserve special thanks for the welcome and guidance they offered. As I completed the manuscript, I was provided with crucial release time by my then dean, Nancy Squires, and chair, Eugene Hammond. I thank them for investing in my project in a way that was as timely as it was generous.
The initial (and evolving) ideas behind this book were tried out at a series of conference presentations where I benefited from the suggestions of Melissa Bradshaw, Anne Fernald, Christine Froula, Randi Koppen, Karen Leick, Ilya Parkins, Paul Saint-Amour, Lily Sheehan, Carey Snyder, Julie Vandivere, John Young, and many others. Drafts of chapters were vetted by writing partners and groups who provided support, feedback, and friendship that made the work a little less lonely. I thank Bonnie Gordon for helping hone my early research questions, Adrienne Munich for inspiration, Susan Scheckel for convivial writing sessions, Jane Garrity for sharing her insider’s knowledge of Virginia Woolf and fashion, and Jessica Burstein for her patience with repeated e-mail exchanges. This book might still be in embryo were it not for Allison Pease and Laura Frost, lunch dates extraordinaire whose humor leavened their criticism. Writing our second books together lifted the load considerably, and I am honored to follow in your footsteps.
An American working on British garment culture could have no better friends than I found in Ann and Hugh Yendole, my hosts during some of my longest trips to London. They provided companionship at the end of days in the archives and introduced me to the delights of Pimm’s, The Great British Bake Off, and Sundays in the garden. Ann, there was a moment in the (now closed) newspaper library at Colindale when I unpacked the lunch you made for me and almost wept at your kindness. My love to you and to Rosie and Audrey, whose good cheer enlivened recent visits.
Back at Stony Brook, I benefitted from research assistants whose efforts on my behalf helped maximize writing and research time. I thank Kathryn Klein for preparing bibliographies of scholarship I cite here, Kathryn and Ula Klein for spending a summer perusing Punch for cartoons about garments, Emma Brinkmeyer for plumbing New York City libraries for periodicals and encyclopedia entries from the 1920s and 1930s, and Katharine Perko for batting cleanup as I finished this manuscript. Katharine, I deeply appreciated your patience and speed as you verified quotations, proofread, and reformatted. To all of you, I look forward to the time when I’ll hold your books in my hands.
I am fortunate to have had the opportunity to work with Jessica Berman and Paul Saint-Amour in their capacity as editors of the Modernist Latitudes series. Their early interest and encouragement, and their questions about and feedback on early drafts, helped me see how to make these garments speak to a wider audience. Philip Leventhal has been a model of calm from our first coffee to production, and I am grateful for his attention and guidance.
Mark Bowen has been my steadfast companion throughout the time it took to complete this project. Only he knows the twists and turns that form the backdrop to every sentence, and only he knows how to cheer me up when the scholarly life—and life in general—seems more granite than rainbow. Thanks for making sure that I never bought a mackintosh, for extracting me from my office and desk, for fixing my Photoshop failures, and for finding the ham man. Your curiosity and creativity consistently inspire me to take risks, secure in the knowledge I can talk them through with you.
During the years I worked on this book, we lost my father, Kenneth Marshik. I learned that the price of having a great dad is the grief that follows his death. This book is dedicated to the memory of his unbounded patience, support, and love.