Uniformly Popular : Fashion: Nostalgia for the spirit of baseball past has people in love with vintage jerseys. The uniforms recall an era when players were ‘closer to the average man.’
It’s easy to understand why Barney Sofro bought copies of 25 vintage major-league baseball jerseys.
“I’m a 50-year-old guy who grew up with the Mickey Mantles and the Ted Williamses,” says Sofro. And sometimes he misses the heroes of his youth.
“The whole deal is, I feel like Stan Musial when I wear my 1946 St. Louis Cardinals uniform with his number on the back.”
When Sofro dons a New York Giants jersey, he turns into Bobby Thomson, hitting the home run that won the 1951 pennant.
Changing into a Milwaukee Braves shirt, the chairman of the board of House of Fabric stores becomes Hall of Fame member Eddie Mathews, launching another homer.
Sofro’s love of old-time jerseys is part of a nationwide fascination with baseball clothing. Baseball caps have become the must-have accessory of the ‘90s; many hip-hop styles recall the design of uniforms, and manufacturers report that sales of jerseys are skyrocketing. You can be sure you’ll see the look long after the World Series is over.
“I think it (the interest in jerseys) carries over from baseball caps . . . ,” says Tom Julian, fashion director of the New York-based Men’s Fashion Assn., a manufacturer’s group that tracks fashion trends.
“We’ve never seen the baseball look come off of the playing field as much as we have today.”
Says Marjorie Deane, owner of New York’s Tobe Report, a weekly merchandising journal for retailers: “The current movie, ‘A League of Their Own,’ is part of the look. The fact that Madonna and Geena Davis are wearing it certainly helped. But people were in the mood before that.”
This summer, Nordstrom, Fred Segal, May Co., J.C. Penney and Footlocker reported big sales of imitation jerseys. Nina Garduno, a vice president at Fred Segal Melrose, says she bought the shirts for their looks, not their nostalgia value.
“(So) I was surprised that so many guys came in and could tell the whole story of the uniform: who wore it, the year it was worn, the game of the World Series--like (one) worn by Babe Ruth in a World Series in Chicago,” says Garduno.
“That’s what lots of fashion is now. It gets the kid in these guys. . . . Three years ago it was the bomber jacket that Spencer Tracy wore in those old black-and-white flight movies. They start to remember their childhood.”
Some women buy jerseys for different reasons, Garduno says.
“Not that there aren’t die-hard (female) fans, because there are. But they buy it more for the fashion, for the fun. I think it’s like . . . ‘I stole it from my brother’s closet and I love it.’ Girls love to shop in guy’s areas. It’s romantic.”
Nicole Metry, a cashier in a Santa Monica car wash, loves the comfort of her imitation 1923 New York Yankees jersey.
“I wear it often--as soon as I wash it,” says Metry, 20. “It’s not hot like other shirts. It lets you move around and do things. . . . I even use it as a pajama sometimes.”
Friends sometimes ask to borrow the white, pin-striped shirt, but Metry refuses because she doesn’t want to lose it.
Mitchell & Ness, a Philadelphia sportswear store and manufacturer, offers replicas of about 500 major league jerseys and 70 baseball jackets.
Changing perceptions of baseball heroes have spurred demand for older uniforms, says owner Peter Capolino.
“As sports became more of an entertainment industry, and sport stars started making the kind of money that rock stars make, a major portion of the population started to have an appreciation and a warmth for previous stars who . . . were perceived to play more for love of the game than for financial benefit.”
The older players, Capolino says, “were revered but also had to live lives closer and more similar to the average man. There’s . . . more of an ability to identify with Ted Williams or Joe DiMaggio. Today’s sports celebrities live lives of the elite.”
Mitchell & Ness jerseys are made from wool flannel, the dominant uniform material before cooler double knits prevailed in the early 1970s.
They are authentically baggy. Says Capolino: “They had no stretch. Players had to wear them big so they could throw and hit.”
Mitchell & Ness turns out 25,000 jerseys a year, each individually lettered and embroidered on sewing machines. They retail for $175 to $250.
Ebbets Field Flannels in Seattle produces about 200 shirts, as well as caps and jackets, from old Negro and minor league teams, including the Hollywood Stars and Los Angeles Angels of the Pacific Coast League.
The jerseys, produced with methods similar to Mitchell & Ness’s, retail for $140 to $175, says owner Jerry Cohen.
The other major manufacturers, Mirage of New York and Starter in New Haven, Conn., turn out jerseys of light-weight cotton or polyester.
“We interpret the looks of that era and may not use the exact fabrics and detailing, but it’s more of a fashion statement,” says Stuart Crystal, director of marketing for Starter. “We pay attention to detail, but . . . (our garment is) more street-active so it will be more comfortable.”
Starter’s jerseys retail for about $75, Crystal says.
Mitchell & Ness and Ebbets Field Flannels are smaller than Starter, but entered the uniform business only a few years ago.
Capolino owned a sporting goods store in 1986 when he noticed that vintage baseball caps were popular and decided to research old uniforms.
When customers brought in vintage jerseys for repair, he would ask if he could make a replica. “I gave the collector a replica so he could wear the copy and keep his collectible safe and in moth balls,” Capolino says.
By July, 1987, he had researched 90 uniforms. After a long search, he found a New Hampshire mill that could produce wool flannel and a line of jerseys.
Mitchell & Ness sold about $250,000 in jerseys in 1989 and projects sales of $1.5 million this year.
Cohen was an aspiring rock musician when he began copying shirts in 1987.
“Initially my interest was as a customer who wanted to wear this,” he says. “(Then) I became obsessed with . . . recreating these old garments, and taught myself all the sewing and manufacturing end of it.”
He and four employees did about $400,000 in business two years ago and will do about $1 million this year, he says.
“Nobody had paid any attention to the Pacific Coast League, as far as making products. It’s been a remarkable success because it’s brought back memories in people of going out to those games. . . .
“Our stuff isn’t cheap. But it’s for someone who wants something that’s well made and that is authentic and that you are not going to go into the ballpark and see 500 guys wearing the same thing.”
Sofro enjoys that feeling of exclusivity.
“I’m actually a little saddened by the fact that this has gotten so popular because now everybody can get to these things,” he says.
“They give you the feeling that you’re walking around in one of those uniforms from long ago. This is when athletes played for $25,000 a year and were only interested in playing ball. If they hurt their leg, they were out there playing.”
