Gone But Not Forgotten: The Bargain Basement

Typical scene in the basement

Back in the glory days of department stores an unloved stepsister lived in the basement. This Cinderella was known as the Basement Store. Though you'll have to read to the end, she actually did have her moment.

On the lowest level in all respects, the basement store carried the range of goods sold upstairs for less. The brands were obscure or no-name, sometimes even manufactured just for the basement.  This was not where unsold merchandise from upstairs landed. The bargain basement was designed for the customer not expected to venture up, the one looking firmly for a bargain.

One basement store, Filene's in Boston, was the stuff of legend and outlasted Filene's itself. Opened in 1908, the basement store held on until 2011, by that time a stand-alone discount store no longer in the basement. It was infamous for its annual $99 bridal event, a feeding frenzy of chiffon and taffeta.

If catching a husband were only that easy...

My mother was a frugal shopper, but it was a point of pride to bypass the basement in Cleveland department stores. The exception was a stop at Higbee's basement Frosty Bar for a frozen milkshake before heading home.

The basement store gave birth to the discount store which begat the outlet store, which heralded the outlet center. Anyone who's spent a day at Woodbury Commons in New York state knows this is a destination that needs no apology.

Next stop: Woodbury Commons

Following is a remembrance of a moment in the spotlight thanks to a basement store:  

Once upon a time, while not exactly Cinderella, I was a young working woman living in New York City. I had a rent stabilized apartment and a decent job for a green-at-the-gills graphic designer. I preferred subways to taxis and was always on a diet so budgeting for groceries was minimal.

What hurt the most was not being able to shop. In the mid 1960s Bloomingdale's was THE department store. Located then as now on Lexington between 59th and 60th, I never knew Bloomingdale's existed before I moved to New York. Unlike the shops along Fifth (Bonwit's, Saks, Bergdorf's, etc.) Bloomingdale's was a true department store. There was something for everyone, all very shiny and bright as were the '60s.

Bloomingdale's also had a bargain basement, which opened right into the subway. It was not as shiny and bright, but it was still Bloomingdale's. I would steel myself to the wonders upstairs. One had to see the model rooms on the furniture floors at the very least. Then I scurried to the basement store hoping to find something to satisfy my Bloomingdale's itch. I don't remember ever buying much, but I did get a Banlon leopard print top and skirt set for $10.95.

The best way to describe Banlon is a polyester knit with a little heft. That and its evil twin Arnel fell out of favor as selling points, but we still wear those washable, wrinkle-free, softly draping knits in tops, dresses and pants. Leopard has long been in style.

My job was junior assistant in the Glamour Magazine art department. Was it hard to dress on a budget and work for a fashion magazine? You bet. Most of the fashion editors were graduates of one of the Seven Sisters at the very least, if not also society girls and debutantes. When they decided what to show in the magazine, budgets were not foremost on their minds.

Kathleen Casey Johnson, Glamour's formidable editor in chief, was concerned things were getting too pricey for the magazine's audience. She was having none of their complaints they couldn't find things for less. Mrs. Johnson happened to be in the art department one day and saw me wearing my BBBBB (Bloomingdale's Bargain Basement Banlon Best).

She glanced at me working away and asked, "Where did you get that?"

"Bloomigdale's Basement" I said. You couldn't fib to Mrs. Johnson.

"And how much did it cost?" she asked.

"$10.95" I said.

"Come with me." she said.

I was then marched into the fashion department and paraded in front of the editors. Mrs. Johnson prodded me along the rounds of their desks, saying, "Look! If she could find this for $10.95, you can find some cute things too!"

Embarrassed? Ashamed? Not me. Proud as punch. Cinderella had made it to the ball.