FoundSF

"I was there..."

"Foundsf.org is republishing a series of "Tales of Toil" that appeared in Processed World magazine between 1981 and 2004. As first-hand accounts of what it was like working at various jobs during those years, these accounts provide a unique view into an aspect of labor history rarely archived, or shared.

—from Processed World #23, published in Winter, 1988.

Introduction by Primitivo Morales

"It's like if I see a fat, ugly girl walking down the street in an Esprit sweatshirt. I don't want that kind of advertising."

—Doug Tompkins, co-owner of Esprit

"These are not clothes for people who sit behind desks every day and hate their jobs."

—Tom Direnzo, Esprit outlet manager

The substance of fashion is in its perception. The designer sees the design refracted through the consumers' eyes. The world of fashion is also one of contradictions and illusion. Ordinary people doing ordinary things become extraordinary; advertisement and ideology become blurred. Dreams and dollars collide and scatter new fashions and forms in their wake.

A case in point is Esprit de Corp. It is a dream: of its owners—or perhaps the label "parents" better describes Doug and Susie Tompkins—its consumers and the fashion oracles. It practices what it preaches and it never never tells the truth.

Which came first: The current marital problems of the Esprit owners or the divergent views of the company's product? This is perhaps a conundrum on the order of the egg and the chicken, for the polarity of their relation has to all accounts been part and parcel of both success and failure.

The company is virulently anti-union, a feeling dating back to the Tompkins' creation of the Great Chinese American Sewing Co. in San Francisco. Following an ILGWU attempt at organizing, the Tompkins fired a worker who signed a union card, and then closed the plant entirely. The union won a lawsuit (after 10 years) and collected $1.25 million in back wages. Since then, Esprit has relocated its production to offshore trade zones. Apparently the workers who actually produce the clothes are excluded from the mandate of former Senior Vice President Thomas Moncho: "It's a sin here not to develop your potential."

Esprit retail clerks must look elsewhere for development subsidies: the hourly wage (in 1987) at the SF store (gross sales of $20 million) is a munificent $5.00-down from $5.50! The salesworkers are sold discounted shirts but are required to wear black slacks and dark socks and shoes.

The designers of image, however, fared better—the corporate headquarters boasts many amenities, as well as subsidized vacations and the use of company facilities. Perhaps the method to this discrimination is found in the effort to shape The Image, which 1s everything in this business.

The image began to tarnish in late 1986, as problems emerged. Said one observer, "Suddenly Esprit ran into this incredible wall of consumer resistance." Although sales remained flat, profits fell by 80%. The expansion into retail stores foundered; overseas sales were doing well (in places like Chile) but remitted insufficient funds to the home office. There have been wholesale replacements of personnel at senior levels, the introduction of executives from other fashion companies, and a new sales force. With the prospect of reduced profits, the company showed its professional staff the same courtesies it had previously bestowed only on garment workers—a 30% layoff, wages and bonus reductions, warehouse closings, and extensive "perk" rollbacks. Employees now buy their own coffee and pay for personal phone calls. The days are gone when a manager, considered to be "negative and burnt out," would be sent on a European trip in the hope that she would conclude that she no longer belonged at Esprit.

According to Susie, "Doug has always known we'd get through... he doesn't ever think things will get out of his control."

And control is indeed a central concept here. Says Patagonia owner Yvon Chouinard, one of Mr. Tompkins' closest friends, "Doug is not an Evel Knievel type. Before he jumps, he knows he can do it." Behind the "carefree" and "breezy" look of the fashion, behind the amicable surroundings and benevolent attentions is an overpowering need for domination and an almost obsessive attention to detail.

He once told his workers, “If ask you what books you’ve read to stimulate your brains, what adventures you’ve had… what love affair was fulfilling… like good coaches, we want answers and actions.” Of his alleged “septigon” of sexual relationships among Esprit employees, according to author Leonard Koren, “He believes that if you want to harness [sic] the entire employee, you have to engage the entire being.” Could it be the emperor of old fashioned harassment and self-indulgence dressed up in new age clothes?

Management style differs as much as Image management, with Ms. Tompkins favoring a more “career” look, maturing the line with the customer. Says she, “I’m the product person and that’s what I fight for.” She professes to have outgrown the leisure lifestyle, and she is deeply concerned with AIDS and the homeless (wouldn’t it be “nice” if her concern extended to Esprit’s far-flung employees?).

Mr. Tompkins continues to look to youth as the icon of fashion and sex. He prefers the vision of Esprit’s photographer Olivero Toscani, saying “This company will never have a career orientation. Will I listen to Toscani before I listen to Susie? You bet. He’s the image maker and she isn’t.”

Said Corrado Federico, chief operating officer of Esprit’s flagging fortunes, “You an have all the image and panache in the world, but without substance forget it.” Substance, in the world of fashion?

Come with us now into the twilight between image and reality.

---

By Dan Herman

The chic tanned receptionist took in my surplus pea coat and weathered boots with disdainful curiosity, wondering what might possess this rustic intruder to pose as a new employee of Esprit De Corp., San Francisco's home­grown fashion capital. Indeed I felt none too sure myself. My career plans hardly included typing business letters for the trendsetter of flashy fashions for the 1980's. But as I explained to the young woman, I was a mere transient in the church of trendiness having been taken aboard as a temporary word processor.

Once admitted to the inner sanctum, I saw immediately that the creator of Esprit had no love of things convention­ al. Esprit is the mission control of haute couture: a cathedral-like assemblage of glass walls and redwood beams; every chair made of wicker and every desk made of oak; and resting appropriately atop each, state-of-the-art computers of all shapes and sizes.

Yet Esprit is far more than bold architecture—it is a sort of corporate utopia. It boasts its own gourmet cafe, a greenhouse, a small park, even a lawn tennis court (the only one in Northern California). On its walls hangs perhaps the world's foremost collection of Amish quilts, as well as exhibits of photos from exotic lands. To keep all this impeccable and orderly, Esprit hires full-time landscapers, carpenters, even an architect or two. And moving gracefully through this stylish complex like bright­ colored tropical fish are the Esprit executives themselves: predominantly healthy lithe, nubile, young women, attired in bold, modern styles and chic Italian shoes (to keep them healthy, lithe and nubile Esprit employs a full-time fitness director).

As if to cement my first impressions, my smiling Esprit coworkers happily informed me that all the rave media reviews (Newsweek, Us Magazine, and so forth) of Esprit are true. I was told that Esprit is a progressive company that cares about its workers; that it hires diverse, "international" people; that it believes in health and youthful vigor; and that it is a darn fun place to work where employees dress and act just as they wish (so long as they're stylish). And what's more 'exciting' —Esprit is on the verge of becoming a fashion empire like Levi-Strauss. In addition to some 2,000 San Francisco employees, Esprit has set up shop in over twenty foreign countries.

But the more I saw, the more doubtful I became. Whisk aside the saccharine Esprit public relations and you find something quite unglamorous: an old­ fashioned, anti-union, anti-worker company run by a man who discriminates against the old and unattractive, who has no qualms about doing business in South Africa and Chile, and whose success is based on paying slave wages to foreign textile workers.

The spiritual and financial force behind Esprit is Doug Tompkins, the 45-year old president and owner (along with wife Susie) of the company. Baby­faced, silver-haired, trim and tanned, he seems the distillation of the Esprit ideal: fun-loving, lighthearted, yet success-­oriented. In keeping with Esprit's 'fitness' consciousness, he spends only about half the year on the job. The rest of the time he jaunts around the world to climb mountains, run rapids, and consort with other high-powered fashion industry types.

Yct like most everything else at Esprit, the real Doug Tompkins sharply contrasts with the image of Doug Tompkins. Doug master-minded the image of the friendly, happy Espriter, yet he remains aloof and enigmatic to his workers. Most Espriters refer to him as "Doug," but few know him well enough to say hello. He occasionally dines with upper-echelon employees, but he scarcely notices the rank and file, and he smiles only in photographs. His employees reason that the pressures of the industry keep him preoccupied. In any event, most agree that his diffidence is surely not symptomatic of low self-­esteem.

Despite the fact that Doug spends little time at Esprit, he controls the cosmetic details of the premises with totalitarian fervor. Doug demands final approval of any new furnishings, lighting, even small accessories like typing stands.

Another cosmetic detail to which Doug pays inordinate attention is hiring policy. “When I first arrived at Esprit, I asked a coworker why everyone looked under 21. She shrugged, assuring me that many were closer to 25 (she herself was 19). Almost without exception Esprit hires the bright, cheery-faced young people you might see in Club Med ads. It is easy to imagine that Esprit manufactures its cute employees in Hong Kong right alongside its cotton v-necks and acetate skirts. The assembly line does not, however, tend to produce many blacks, Hispanics or middle-aged employees.

Whatever their age or race, the company treats all workers the same: like children. High-heeled shoes are banned (ostensibly they could damage the wooden floor); workers are forbidden to bring snacks or open beverages near the work area (special mugs with hinged lids are provided); workers may not wear clothing with flashy logos other than Esprit, etc. With all the rules, Esprit could easily be mistaken for a boarding school. On the wall in the cafe hangs a framed aphorism that sums up the atmosphere of the place; "Please pick up after yourself, your mother doesn't work here."

In fact, your mother couldn't get a job here—she would be too old. But more to the point, your mother wouldn't want to work at Esprit for fear of breaking her neck. It is a good thing indeed that Esprit stresses youth and fitness, because Espriters must be agile and well-coordinated to avoid slipping down the narrow stairways of polished wood. Workers say that Doug refuses to mar their treacherous beauty with traction strips (just about everyone recalls falling down the stairs at least once).

Likewise, Espriters must be quick-­witted enough to dodge a glass partition now and then (Doug believes in the illusion of openness and communication among workers, and thus installed glass walls. The glass also offers the advantage of exhibiting Doug's stable of colorful employees—rather like a Macy's window display). Visitors at Esprit, conspicuous by their clumsiness, often see walls materialize within inches of their faces, which is usually too late.

And if invisible walls and slippery stairs aren't enough to keep Espriters agile and alert, there are the wicker chairs, which sounds harmless enough until you have sat in one for a day. Only then do you realize that Espriters must have especially strong backs, since their chairs give no support whatsoever. Esprit once supplied workers with dull, old office chairs but Doug tossed them out in favor of the cute but rickety wicker. Workers sometimes complain of chronic backaches but are promptly reminded that at Esprit image is everything.

Of course, if you think about it, image is not everything. It is mere illusion. Yet Doug Tompkins and Esprit have bravely ventured beyond the realm of image and into the realm of the callous. Back in 1974, a youthful Esprit celebrated its puberty by locking out some 125 manual workers at the company-owned Great Chinese American Sewing Company in Chinatown. This magnanimous step was taken because the workers wanted to join a union. After a lengthy legal battle, the National Labor Relations Board awarded the workers $1.25 million in back wages. Tompkins, however, is not a man who likes being told how to run his business. Esprit moved its manufacturing overseas mostly to the Far East where workers know their place.

Doing business in repressive nations has subsequently become something of a crusade for Tompkins. Not only does Esprit conduct a thriving business in South Africa and Chile, but Tompkins has also launched the "American Free Trade Council," an organization that lobbies for the lofty principle of, what else, free trade. Despite its noble ideals, Esprit refuses to comment on any of this. Either the company does not wish to brag of good works, or its spokesmen are fearful of the provision in the company manual threatening dismissal for any negative statements made to the press.

The best way to describe the brave new world at Esprit is, in fact, 'see no evil, hear no evil.' Whatever its shortcomings, Esprit continues to be inundated with resumes from credulous young grads who are attracted to the company's image. Esprit is even now planning to build a "campus-like Esprit City" for its deserving executives. And Esprit continues to present itself as a populist organization by using 'real people' in its ads (which greatly cuts down on modeling costs).

Such a real person is Ariel O'Donnell, a San Francisco waitress who had the good fortune of serving Doug and Susie one evening. Over the next several days she was ushered into the Esprit head­ quarters for a photography session and an interview. Her face appeared in Esprit ads in Mademoiselle, Glamour. Vanity Fair, Elle and Metropolitan Home. The caption in the ads reads: Ariel O'Donnell, San Francisco, California. Age 21. Waitress/Bartender. Non­ professional AIDS Educator. Cyclist. Art Restoration Student. Anglophile. Neo-Feminist. Clearly a model citizen of the Esprit utopia.

In fact, however, a 1987 issue of Image magazine reported O'Donnell's true biography like this: "Waitress, bartender and cyclist are factual descriptions. Non-professional AIDS educator and neo-feminist, O'Donnell assumes, were extrapolations from her interview remark. 'No longer can we be sexually free. We have to be safe. So if I were sleeping with someone new, I'd insist he use a condom.' An interest in art restoration became ·an art restoration student.

From the perspective of history, all of this blurring of reality doesn't really matter—utopias don't usually last long. But Esprit is somehow above history. With its existence based on a gaseous cloud of image, Esprit has proven as resilient as superstition itself. Perhaps it's time to call an exorcist.