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    Why the Costumer of 'The Gilded Age' Is Being Driven Out of Business

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    Helen Uffner has dressed Broadway, Hollywood and TV shows for more than 40 years. But high-rise developers and Amazon distribution centers are making it impossible to store her extraordinary vintage collection.Helen Uffner began her love affair with old clothes as a young teenager, wandering into estate sales near her family’s home in Queens, unnerving her father, who had immigrated to this country as a Holocaust survivor and worried that people would think he could not afford to outfit his daughter properly. As a high school student in the mid-1960s, she would go to auction houses in Greenwich Village to buy vintage clothes and antique jewelry, using her babysitting earnings. With the prospect of a career in period fashion lacking promise, she sensibly joined a management consultancy after college. Soon enough the sexism got to her so she quit and decided to monetize her passion, drawing from the large collection she had already amassed which, at the time, focused on Victorian lingerie.Over the next 40 years or so, Ms. Uffner established a celebrated business renting out vintage clothes to theater, film and television productions from an inventory considered unparalleled. Initially, she ran the business out of her apartment — supplying the wardrobe for “Out of Africa,” “Zelig,” “The Color Purple.” By the late 1990s, when that model was no longer sustainable, she moved to a 6,000-square-foot space in the garment district, which made it easy for Broadway costume designers to visit and for actors to come in for fittings. Within a decade though, the unforgiving pace of real estate development in New York would threaten her viability, and now, in an all-too-familiar scenario, the pandemic economy was taking an extinction-level toll.It was a paradox though because even as the performing arts have suffered immeasurably during the past two years, film and television production in New York City has mostly returned to prepandemic levels and is ramping up. In September, Netflix opened a 170,000-square-foot studio in Brooklyn, and Ms. Uffner has been involved with one of the most anticipated series of the year, “The Gilded Age,” Julian Fellowes’s follow-up to “Downton Abbey,” set in turn-of-the-century New York (and starting Monday on HBO).Challenges began for Ms. Uffner in 2006, when the landlord of the building she occupied in Midtown “invited” her, as she put it, to break her lease early. He was selling the building and wanted her out, but moving thousands of racks of clothing was going to be an ordeal. At the same time commercial rents were soaring and the city’s garment industry had all but disappeared, large loft-like spaces given over to corporate offices. Eventually, in 2008, Helen Uffner Vintage Clothing moved to Long Island City, after its proprietress faced fines of $1,000 a day if she did not vacate her existing space.The transition was not easy. Fashion houses, which also rent from the collection as a means of inspiration, began returning things by FedEx, Ms. Uffner told me, “as if we were in another state.” But over the next several years, Long Island City became popular enough that it was now a place where a marketing executive at Ralph Lauren might actually live. So by 2018, Ms. Uffner inevitably found herself in the same predicament she had faced earlier — the building she was in near Queens Plaza would be redeveloped and she would have to move. She ultimately settled into another space in Long Island City only to confront the drama all over again — her current building is planned for demolition to accommodate the construction of a high-rise.In the past, Ms. Uffner had several competitors, also independently owned, but nearly all have fallen away. If she shut down, the impact on the costume industry would be profound. Tom Broecker, an Emmy Award-winning costume designer who has relied on Ms. Uffner for decades described her collection of women’s wear from the early 20th century as extraordinary. “In the entire world, Helen is the only person who has cotton dresses from that period,” he told me.Even a move to Industry City, in Brooklyn, where the city has been trying to revive garment manufacturing, would be difficult from his point of view. In addition to film and theater projects, Mr. Broecker works on “Saturday Night Live,” where he might have to come up with a piece of old clothing in a span of two hours, making a trip from Rockefeller Center to a semi-inaccessible quarter of Brooklyn unfeasible.Understanding the importance of her enterprise to New York’s creative life, the city via the Mayor’s Office of Media and Entertainment has said it is trying to help Ms. Uffner relocate, but without broad commercial rent regulation, there is little that can be accomplished. Over the years, she told me, landlords have added fees to monthly rent bills with impunity. In the beginning she was paying rent, electricity and property tax. In a subsequent space, the landlord added gas, and then came requirements to contribute to the local business improvement district.While Covid has tanked the price of office leasing, vast warehouse space of the kind Ms. Uffner needs is at a premium because of the demand coming from Amazon and other e-commerce sites that have become even more attractive to consumers during the pandemic. The city suggested a space in Hudson Yards, she told me, that was going to cost more than five times what she was paying.Five Movies to Watch This WinterCard 1 of 51. “The Power of the Dog”: More

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      With a Mess of Fabrics, Broadway’s Costume Shops Return to Work

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      During the pandemic they helped by sewing cloth masks and surgical gowns. Now, they are back in a frenzy to make theater sparkle.The work spaces at Parsons-Meares Ltd., one of New York City’s premier costume shops for Broadway shows, tend to be a spectacular confusion of satin and silk, lace and lamé, milliskin and muslin, scraps of brown paper in unique and strange shapes. Each surface seems on the verge of being inundated by leftover materials of varying hues and textures.“It’s kind of a big mess, because the work creates mess,” said Sally Ann Parsons, the shop’s owner and the only costume shop proprietor to receive a Tony Award. “But I happen to find the mess interesting.”If Parsons-Meares and the dozens of other costume shops like it in the city are a bit cluttered lately, it’s a happy return to form after more than a year of inactivity. When the pandemic shuttered the theater industry in March 2020, Broadway’s dressmakers, tailors, milliners, cobblers, pleaters, beaders, embroiderers, glove makers, fabric painters and dyers were suddenly out of work. Few performers, it turned out, needed painstakingly crafted costumes for all those shows on Zoom.Work at shops like Parsons-Meares ground to a halt during the pandemic shutdown.Yudi Ela for The New York TimesBut as Broadway rolls out its return, costumers are again busy with the meticulous, mess-making handiwork that makes the industry sparkle onstage. Starting this month, the creations of Parsons-Meares will dress anew the casts of shows including “The Lion King,” “Hadestown” and “Moulin Rouge! The Musical,” as well as productions of “Hamilton” across the country.“Costume shops are extremely important,” said Catherine Zuber, who designed costumes for “Moulin Rouge.” “A costume might turn out completely different depending on who’s interpreting it. Most designers are very particular about where the costumes get made. It’s really quite a responsibility.”To achieve the sartorial splendor of “Moulin Rouge,” 180 artisans at 37 costume shops spent 36,000 hours translating Zuber’s drawings into 793 unique pieces. For some, part of the job was being able to track down materials in, for example, the perfect shade of red.In other words, all that get-up takes a lot of know-how and can-do.A bodice for a “Moulin Rouge” dress.Yudi Ela for The New York Times“When you need a costume for ‘Hamilton,’” said Donna Langman, whose shop dresses the elder Schuyler sisters in that show, “you can’t just run out and buy it from the 18th-century clothing shop down the street.”And it’s more than just looks. Effective stage clothes are able to withstand vigorous, sophisticated movement for eight performances a week, all year. They also have to facilitate dizzyingly fast costume changes: Think snaps that look like buttons, zippers that look like lacing, and shirts sewn onto pants. They need to be easily alterable by the show’s wardrobe department, and to stay fresh without daily dry cleaning.In a way, costume shops also help coax actors into their roles. “There is a magic that happens in the fitting room with the actor or actress,” Langman said. “We’re the ones that help them become their character. It’s kind of like being a doctor: ‘Hello, nice to meet you. Take your clothes off.’ They are at their most vulnerable in that moment, and our job is to make them feel good about whatever it is they have to go out there and do.”Yudi Ela for The New York TimesYudi Ela for The New York TimesYudi Ela for The New York TimesYudi Ela for The New York TimesAt the height of the pandemic in New York, many artisans, including Parsons and her staff, sewed and donated cloth masks and surgical gowns. Television and film work resumed later in the year, though some shops that are stubbornly loyal to the performing arts — such as Parsons-Meares Ltd. — continued to wait for Broadway’s return. (One lifeline for the shop came from Colorado Ballet, which ordered costumes for “The Nutcracker” a year in advance.).css-1xzcza9{list-style-type:disc;padding-inline-start:1em;}.css-3btd0c{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-3btd0c{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-3btd0c strong{font-weight:600;}.css-3btd0c em{font-style:italic;}.css-w739ur{margin:0 auto 5px;font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.125rem;line-height:1.3125rem;color:#121212;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-w739ur{font-family:nyt-cheltenham,georgia,’times new roman’,times,serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.375rem;line-height:1.625rem;}@media (min-width:740px){#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-w739ur{font-size:1.6875rem;line-height:1.875rem;}}@media (min-width:740px){.css-w739ur{font-size:1.25rem;line-height:1.4375rem;}}.css-9s9ecg{margin-bottom:15px;}.css-uf1ume{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-box-pack:justify;-webkit-justify-content:space-between;-ms-flex-pack:justify;justify-content:space-between;}.css-wxi1cx{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-flex-direction:column;-ms-flex-direction:column;flex-direction:column;-webkit-align-self:flex-end;-ms-flex-item-align:end;align-self:flex-end;}.css-12vbvwq{background-color:white;border:1px solid #e2e2e2;width:calc(100% – 40px);max-width:600px;margin:1.5rem auto 1.9rem;padding:15px;box-sizing:border-box;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-12vbvwq{padding:20px;width:100%;}}.css-12vbvwq:focus{outline:1px solid #e2e2e2;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-12vbvwq{border:none;padding:10px 0 0;border-top:2px solid #121212;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-rdoyk0{-webkit-transform:rotate(0deg);-ms-transform:rotate(0deg);transform:rotate(0deg);}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-eb027h{max-height:300px;overflow:hidden;-webkit-transition:none;transition:none;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-5gimkt:after{content:’See more’;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-6mllg9{opacity:1;}.css-qjk116{margin:0 auto;overflow:hidden;}.css-qjk116 strong{font-weight:700;}.css-qjk116 em{font-style:italic;}.css-qjk116 a{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration:underline;text-decoration:underline;text-underline-offset:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-thickness:1px;text-decoration-thickness:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:visited{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:hover{-webkit-text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;}When Broadway did come back, nearly a year and a half later, for costumers it wasn’t as simple as picking up where they left off. Numerous suppliers in the garment district of Manhattan have reduced hours or shuttered entirely, and costume shops report higher prices for fabrics and slower shipping times. Pandemic protocols have affected how the shops operate, such as how work stations are laid out and how fittings are conducted. Many workers have relocated or retired; it hasn’t been easy to find and train their successors.So workshops are frenziedly trying to keep up with demand. Since June, Parsons-Meares has been rushing to fulfill orders for 178 pairs of pants, 120 vests and 125 dickies for “Hamilton” alone.Sally Ann Parsons, the owner of Parsons-Meares, is the only costume maker to receive a Tony Award. “It’s kind of a big mess, because the work creates mess,” she said of the current state of the shop.Yudi Ela for The New York TimesFor some, the crowded opening schedule and the unreasonable demands it places on costume shops feels like the latest example of the indifference with which they are treated by Broadway producers. “We’ve always been the lowest on the totem pole,” Langman said.Profit margins, as ever, are slim, and shops have a long recovery from pandemic closures ahead. The Costume Industry Coalition calculated that its 50-plus member businesses lost $26.6 million in gross revenue last year. (That group includes Ernest Winzer Cleaners, the largely Broadway-dependent, Bronx-based facility that has been in operation since 1908.)Janet Bloor, the owner of Euroco Costumes, said: “We got one payroll protection loan. Sadly, we had no payroll to protect. We may never catch up to the massive amount of back rent we owe. It’s still possible we won’t survive the pandemic without some kind of aid.”A painted skirt from “Moulin Rouge.”Yudi Ela for The New York TimesAs the pandemic continues to loom over the return of live performances, the Broadway season remains precarious. “Everyone’s very nervous,” Langman said. “Are people going to go back to the theater? We’ve got work for the next month or two, and then what?”Brian Blythe, a founding member of the Costume Industry Coalition, said that recovery could take years, adding, “This industry is filled with some of the most resourceful costume experts in the world, but our collective survival depends on continuing to inform our stakeholders of what it takes to do what we do.”Some recognition might help.At “Showstoppers! Spectacular Costumes From Stage and Screen,” a 20,000-square-foot exhibition on 42nd Street, over 100 costumes for theater, television, film, cruise ships and theme parks are on view, along with regular artisan demonstrations such as rhinestone application and 3-D printing.Gillian Conahan at work. Costume shops have been rushing to fill orders for Broadway’s return.Yudi Ela for The New York TimesGiven museum treatment, the exhibition’s costumes can finally be appreciated up close as the remarkable, wearable sculptures they are: the Tudor-meets-Rihanna outfits of Henry VIII’s wives from “Six,” bedazzled with 18,810 studs; the elaborate roping and beading of corsets for “The Lion King”; Miodrag Guberinic’s Medusa for Heartbeat Opera, with its laser-cut snake vertebrae; the intricate bead work for “Aladdin,” which occupied the beader Polly Kinney every day for nearly six months. Even the gravity-defying undergarments worn by performers of “Wicked,” by the foundation wear specialist and Bra Tenders owner Lori Kaplan, get a shout-out.While “Showstoppers” is letting theater-lovers see the art of Broadway costuming in a new way, members of the Costume Industry Coalition hope that Broadway producers might be similarly enlightened.Recovery from the pandemic could take years, according to the Costume Industry Coalition, a group of more than 50 businesses.Yudi Ela for The New York Times“Some people seem to think these are things your mom can sew at home,” said Sarah Timberlake, the owner of Timberlake Studios. “And, because of that, it doesn’t have to be that expensive. There needs to be a rethink at the highest levels as to what’s regarded a living wage, and what we can ask for, in order to make this work.”Langman sees sexism in the treatment of her field, including when it comes to pay, with women making up 70 percent of its work force, according to the coalition. “We’ve always been looked at as ‘the women,’ because the majority of our industry is women, or gay men,” she said. “That’s just the nature of our business. We’ve never wielded as much power or been given as much respect compared to the guys in the scenic department who can swing a hammer.”There is a wider hope that young people will be drawn to the industry. Many leading costumers are approaching retirement age, and the industry stands to benefit from the fresh eyes of young people who might never have realized these careers existed. “It would be great for them to know that this is an option,” Langman said. “For kids to know this is something that you can do with your life that’s creative and meaningful.”That kind of advocacy is starting to feel like a second job, Langman said, but a necessary one. “By their nature costumers prefer to stay backstage, supporting the people onstage,” she added. “But we’ve been forced to push our faces forward — to let everyone know that we’re here.” More