Windows, 1.0
By Stefene Russell
Photograph by Eugene Taylor, courtesy of the Missouri Historical Society’s Photographs and Prints Collection
Used to be, people made pilgrimages downtown to see Famous-Barr’s Christmas windows. Back then, they were put together by “window dressers,” rather than “visual merchandisers.” And corporate didn’t bully the man in the horn-rimmed glasses who sat at his drafting table on the 14th floor, watching snow fall on Washington, waiting for inspiration; the desired effect would be a frozen Christmas parade float, behind glass. He’d pick colors, calculate the yardage of chicken wire required for a 6-foot papier-mâché Santa head, art-direct the crew who sewed the elf suits and wrapped empty boxes in foil paper. A visual merchandiser might stop short with a logo and promises of big savings writ in eye-searing orange. A window dresser, if he was good, told a story. “Save your trading stamps, turn them in, buy your kid a bike,” this window says. “He knows you’re broke; he’s not expecting much. The only explanation? Santa. Forget your shabby overcoat and your cold feet. What’s the shame in letting the gaudiness of the season blind you, just a bit? Last time we checked, daydreaming was free.”
