APRIL 2, 2020
I entered a competition and won an intern position at a dress factory well known for moderately priced ladies’ fashion dresses, Algo Original in Montreal. We didn’t have a formal name for what it was that I was going to work at there, like we do today, but it was an opportunity to work in a garment factory for six weeks or so.
I looked forward to a summer in Montreal. I was familiar with it. My aunts and an uncle and my grandparents lived there. I had been to Expo ’67 twice.
My oldest friend, who was at Fashion College with me, was also awarded a position at a lingerie manufacturer. My uncle heard that we were looking for a place to stay and offered the second bedroom in his apartment. He said he was never there anyway, working during the day and then out socializing or at a ball game in the evening, Vermont on the weekends.
My parents drove me to Montreal on a Saturday morning to meet Elliot, my contact person and to make sure everything was on the up and up for their twenty-two year old daughter. We had a look around the factory before I started work on Monday morning.
Sal and I lived in the Outremont borough and loved the old brick building that was our home for the summer. We traveled together on transit to the garment district on Chabanel Street.
I was silenced by this dream come true. Any trim you could imagine. Shelves stacked with enormous bolts up to the ceiling. Such an array of fabrics, any one of my choices could be lifted down for me. The flurry when the stylist, Lize came to the workroom to check on things, her voice booming above the factory noise. The friendliness of the pattern maker at the sunny window, her ease in pattern-making, her confidence with fitting the model or Judy at a time when patterns were drafted with rulers, pencil and paper.
The sewing room was right there too. I was used to Juki industrial sewing machines and sergers at school. In the hands of an experienced seamstress the clothing pieces just zipped through the machines. I gave it a try but could not keep up. And the needle caught my index finger; the women at the machine beside me gently reach over and reversed the hand-wheel to raise the needle. Oops!
Algo had a collection of “bodies”; dress silhouettes they knew were selling well to the wave of young women and recently divorced women who needed affordable office wear to join the work force. The fabrics, and things like necklines and sleeve details and length could be changed but the body measurements remained consistent.
At a sales meeting, I couldn’t believe how accepting the sales reps were of my two designs. I heard their endorsement by their projections, discussing how many of each they could sell.
party dress, with ribbon trim criss-cross consisting of three colours on the bodice, utilized as a long braid stitched at the shoulders and left to hang freely from the short bodice to knee length; jersey fabric
blue wool dress, roll collar, paisley print accent for the cap sleeves, slash pockets, placket front and facing; paisley print on the belt with a button closure each point
When it was my last day at the factory a sales rep expressed surprise, “What are you going back to school for? You’ve got this!”
I started my graduation year, in the fall.
