Word: cinnamon
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...Britta Bauer, 29, German born and educated, was a model with no business experience when she started Cinnamon Wear in 1972. She and her partner Barry Lis, 31, have had a phenomenal success by breaking all the rules. Britta and Barry rarely advertise or hold shows, and carry basically the same clothes season after season. Reasons Bauer: "Often people will see something they like in a store, buy one, and go back for more of the same-only they can't get it. We like to give women a chance to come back and get what they like." Britta...
...keep them in stock. Price is no object." Agrees Kal Ruttenstein, a Saks Fifth Avenue vice president: "It's the only fashion silhouette this fall." Retailers and manufacturers, reports Women's Wear Daily, "are already viewing it as the sleeper of '75." Cinnamon Wear, a sprightly New York fashion house, has filled 10,000 orders for its lower-priced ($45 to $50) jumpsuits since last spring; Saks stores across the U.S. have sold 2,000 so far this fall. Betty Ford is reported to have bought...
...current Orient Express rolling last spring, concentrated at first on supple, sensuous clothes with a low hip line. The Japanese-born Kenzo noted that his styles "had affinities with the Chinese look, so we carried on the Chinese line." Among the first U.S. designers to introduce proletarian posh was Cinnamon Wear's Britta, whose workers' drop-shouldered jackets and raincoats flopped like wet rice when they came out last year; now the firm has trouble keeping up with demand...
...myth of the homesick. While typing out a 20-page paper in the sterile gloomth of his monastic room, with its poster less walls and chill dampness, this student becomes lost in visions of refrigerators crammed with roast beef and coke, cupboards overflowing with Oreo cookies and cinnamon buns, trays filled with chocolate candies and salted peanuts (and perhaps marmalade candies if it's Passover). A late night movie starring Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy is on the living room television as the student fixes himself a salami and cheese sandwich with a pickle on the side...
...short, thick-chested, cinnamon-gum-chomping cinematic subversive, dedicated to the perpetration of mindlessness over matter. His films are collages of chaos seemingly cut out by some giant pair of deranged scissors, pitiless assemblages of sight gags, smart cracks and terrible puns. A hard-riding posse of cowhands is held up by a single-file tollbooth in the middle of the Great Western Desert. A sweet, about-to-be-married young thing brushes her hair in the moonlight and bellows out The Battle Hymn of the Republic. Mel Brooks is not a subtle...