Fashion: In the Stretch

The first stretch fabric, of course, was skin. It fit fairly well, withstood wear and tear (scuff marks, lipstick traces, even wine stains vanished in a jiffy), but wrinkled like crazy: a knee bend, for example, caused the stuff to stretch 45%, a shoulder shrug, 16%. After as little as 30 bending, shrugging years, shape was sure to go. Fortunately, skilled technicians got to work on the problem, finally turned up with an ANo. 1 solution called polyurethane elastomeric yarn (spandex) that stretches like skin, leaves no telltale bags or sags, and springs back into good-as-new condition without benefit of plastic surgery.

One Giant Step. In theory, stretch fabrics have been around since 1947, when the discovery of vertically stretchable textured yarn hit the slopes, making ski pants a stylish as well as a sturdy business. Chemical processes like slack mercerizing (by which the fabric, not the raw fiber, is made resilient after it is woven) left cottons and wools horizontally stretchable, did wonders for men’s oxford shirts. Spandex, a wholly elastic fiber produced by Du Pont in 1958, revitalized bathing suits, hosiery and undergarments. But the big breakthrough came only last spring, when Du Pont went one giant step farther with the discovery of a core-spun process (with spandex as the core around which staple yarns might be wrapped or spun).

The result: a versatile, sure-fire way to convert every conventionally rigid fabric in the world into stuff that stretched up and down, back and forth, to and fro, and never once ran out of breadth. Accordingly, a whole new galaxy of stretch fabric appeared, all developed around a spandex core, ranging from brocade to burlap, taffeta to twill. Not all of them cling to the skin, but the stretch qualities let them give when and where they have to.

This fall, stretch is the biggest word in fashion. Sportswear manufacturers are designing stretch shirts, stretch shorts, stretch dungarees, stretch skirts, jumpers and jump suits (one-piece outfits, designed as lounge wear but equally at home in the cockpit). Lingerie makers, longtime fanciers of “the flexible look,” are offering a flock of pliable bras and girdles, stretched the point with a nightgown topped in stretch lace and called “the Jean Harlow.” The children’s wear industry got busy on stretch coveralls and snowsuits. Men’s wear merchandisers offered stretch slacks (no bagging at knees or seat).

No Little Old Lady. But no one stood to benefit more than the 20 million American women who cannot fit into standard-size fashions without major alterations. For them, spandex means clothes that will give a little here or there and keep them out of the hands of the little old lady who lets out seams and fixes the collar lines. Even high-style couturiers, who have a tendency to sniff at anything not imported from foreign showrooms, showed high-style appreciation. Some—like Oleg Cassini and Hannah Troy—went so far as to rush right in with some select stretch dresses with give where it counts.

The new stretch clothes may cost an estimated 5% more than the old-style stuff, but response so far indicates that no one minds much. In a pinch, even a pocketbook can be made to stretch.