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The following excerpts are from Lillian Ross' famous take-down on Ernest Hemingway in The New Yorker, MAY 13, 1950 Issue,
"How Do You Like It Now, Gentlemen?" http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1950/05/13/how-do-you-like-it-now-gentlemen
I hope that you find this as fascinating as I do. The entire article is great and these bits on shopping at Abercrombie are very interesting; just to give you some perspective of what it was once like to shop at Abercrombie from an embedded journalist with Mr. HHemingway.
"I mentioned the coat. He shrugged. Mrs. Hemingway had suggested that he look for a coat at Abercrombie & Fitch, so I mentioned Abercrombie & Fitch. He shrugged again and lumbered slowly over to a taxi, and we started down Fifth Avenue in the afternoon traffic...
"In the elevator, Hemingway looked even bigger and bulkier than he had before... [-They had an elevator!? -HJ]
"The doors opened at our floor, and we got out and headed for a rack of topcoats. A tall, dapper clerk approached us, and Hemingway shoved his hands into his pants pockets and crouched forward. “I think I still have credit in this joint,” he said to the clerk.
The clerk cleared his throat. “Yes, sir,” he said.
“Want to see coat,” Hemingway said menacingly.
“Yes, sir,” said the clerk. “What kind of coat did you wish to see, sir?”
“That one.” He pointed to a straight-hanging, beltless tan gabardine coat on the rack. The clerk helped him into it, and gently drew him over to a full-length mirror. “Hangs like a shroud,” Hemingway said, tearing the coat off. “I’m tall on top. Got any other coat?” he asked, as though he expected the answer to be no. He edged impatiently toward the elevators.
“How about this one, sir, with a removable lining, sir?” the clerk said. This one had a belt. Hemingway tried it on, studied himself in the mirror, and then raised his arms as though he were aiming a rifle. “You going to use it for shooting, sir?” the clerk asked. Hemingway grunted, and said he would take the coat. He gave the clerk his name, and the clerk snapped his fingers. “Of course!” he said. “There was something—” Hemingway looked embarrassed and said to send the coat to him at the Sherry-Netherland, and then said he’d like to look at a belt.
“What kind of belt, Mr. Hemingway?” the clerk asked.
“Guess a brown one,” Hemingway said.
We moved over to the belt counter, and another clerk appeared.
“Will you show Mr. Hemingway a belt?” the first clerk said, and stepped back and thoughtfully watched Hemingway.
The second clerk took a tape measure from his pocket, saying he thought Hemingway was a size 44 or 46.
“Wanta bet?” Hemingway asked. He took the clerk’s hand and punched himself in the stomach with it.
“Gee, he’s got a hard tummy,” the belt clerk said. He measured Hemingway’s waistline. “Thirty-eight!” he reported. “Small waist for your size. What do you do—a lot of exercise?”
Hemingway hunched his shoulders, feinted, laughed, and looked happy for the first time since we’d left the hotel. He punched himself in the stomach with his own fist.
“Where you going—to Spain again?” the belt clerk asked.
“To Italy,” Hemingway said, and punched himself in the stomach again. After Hemingway had decided on a brown calf belt, the clerk asked him whether he wanted a money belt. He said no—he kept his money in a checkbook.
Our next stop was the shoe department, and there Hemingway asked a clerk for some folding bedroom slippers.
“Pullman slippers,” the clerk said. “What size?”
“ ’Levens,” Hemingway said bashfully. The slippers were produced, and he told the clerk he would take them. “I’ll put them in my pocket,” he said. “Just mark them, so they won’t think I’m a shoplifter.”
“You’d be surprised what’s taken from the store,” said the clerk, who was very small and very old. “Why, the other morning, someone on the first floor went off with a big roulette wheel. Just picked it up and—”
...Mr. Guest told us he was going upstairs to pick up a gun and proposed that we come along. Hemingway asked what kind of gun, and Guest said a ten-gauge magnum. [They carried guns. Hemingway had bought a speargun from them to take to Bimini. By the way, he brought that on the plane with him. -HJ"
"How Do You Like It Now, Gentlemen?" http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1950/05/13/how-do-you-like-it-now-gentlemen
I hope that you find this as fascinating as I do. The entire article is great and these bits on shopping at Abercrombie are very interesting; just to give you some perspective of what it was once like to shop at Abercrombie from an embedded journalist with Mr. HHemingway.
"I mentioned the coat. He shrugged. Mrs. Hemingway had suggested that he look for a coat at Abercrombie & Fitch, so I mentioned Abercrombie & Fitch. He shrugged again and lumbered slowly over to a taxi, and we started down Fifth Avenue in the afternoon traffic...
"In the elevator, Hemingway looked even bigger and bulkier than he had before... [-They had an elevator!? -HJ]
"The doors opened at our floor, and we got out and headed for a rack of topcoats. A tall, dapper clerk approached us, and Hemingway shoved his hands into his pants pockets and crouched forward. “I think I still have credit in this joint,” he said to the clerk.
The clerk cleared his throat. “Yes, sir,” he said.
“Want to see coat,” Hemingway said menacingly.
“Yes, sir,” said the clerk. “What kind of coat did you wish to see, sir?”
“That one.” He pointed to a straight-hanging, beltless tan gabardine coat on the rack. The clerk helped him into it, and gently drew him over to a full-length mirror. “Hangs like a shroud,” Hemingway said, tearing the coat off. “I’m tall on top. Got any other coat?” he asked, as though he expected the answer to be no. He edged impatiently toward the elevators.
“How about this one, sir, with a removable lining, sir?” the clerk said. This one had a belt. Hemingway tried it on, studied himself in the mirror, and then raised his arms as though he were aiming a rifle. “You going to use it for shooting, sir?” the clerk asked. Hemingway grunted, and said he would take the coat. He gave the clerk his name, and the clerk snapped his fingers. “Of course!” he said. “There was something—” Hemingway looked embarrassed and said to send the coat to him at the Sherry-Netherland, and then said he’d like to look at a belt.
“What kind of belt, Mr. Hemingway?” the clerk asked.
“Guess a brown one,” Hemingway said.
We moved over to the belt counter, and another clerk appeared.
“Will you show Mr. Hemingway a belt?” the first clerk said, and stepped back and thoughtfully watched Hemingway.
The second clerk took a tape measure from his pocket, saying he thought Hemingway was a size 44 or 46.
“Wanta bet?” Hemingway asked. He took the clerk’s hand and punched himself in the stomach with it.
“Gee, he’s got a hard tummy,” the belt clerk said. He measured Hemingway’s waistline. “Thirty-eight!” he reported. “Small waist for your size. What do you do—a lot of exercise?”
Hemingway hunched his shoulders, feinted, laughed, and looked happy for the first time since we’d left the hotel. He punched himself in the stomach with his own fist.
“Where you going—to Spain again?” the belt clerk asked.
“To Italy,” Hemingway said, and punched himself in the stomach again. After Hemingway had decided on a brown calf belt, the clerk asked him whether he wanted a money belt. He said no—he kept his money in a checkbook.
Our next stop was the shoe department, and there Hemingway asked a clerk for some folding bedroom slippers.
“Pullman slippers,” the clerk said. “What size?”
“ ’Levens,” Hemingway said bashfully. The slippers were produced, and he told the clerk he would take them. “I’ll put them in my pocket,” he said. “Just mark them, so they won’t think I’m a shoplifter.”
“You’d be surprised what’s taken from the store,” said the clerk, who was very small and very old. “Why, the other morning, someone on the first floor went off with a big roulette wheel. Just picked it up and—”
...Mr. Guest told us he was going upstairs to pick up a gun and proposed that we come along. Hemingway asked what kind of gun, and Guest said a ten-gauge magnum. [They carried guns. Hemingway had bought a speargun from them to take to Bimini. By the way, he brought that on the plane with him. -HJ"
