Attending "The World of Tomorrow" meant a great deal of planning for the fashion conscious, especially where comfort was concerned.
What – No Rubes?
A terribly concerned Yonkers fairgoer wrote the editors of the New York Sun that standardized schools, accessible transportation and modern electrical devices obviously "eliminated from the national scene those who we once called rubes, hicks, hayseeds." Having visited Flushing Meadows a half dozen times, this worried New Yorker could barely distinguish the out-of-town guests from the local gentry.
The onlooker observed present day fairgoers would never consider dressing as their parents did for Chicago's 1893 Columbian Exposition. Instead the writer bemoaned: "Dress, of course, has changed mightily in the last few years; formalities have fallen before an onslaught of garments designed for comfort."
This national commonality also frustrated the fair's employees whose popular outdoor sport entailed distinguishing native New Yorkers from visitors to the city. The fair gamesters drew the obvious conclusion that style became style simultaneously throughout the country.
However, Floyd Snelson observed: "Clothes, they claim, don't make the man, but in New York, they surely make the woman." Therefore, advice on what to wear to "The World of Tomorrow" filled the world of today's newspapers, especially for women.
Leading stylists suggested a wide range of outfits for the ultra-fashion conscious: a lightweight two-piece woolen tweed suit, a white or colored shirtwaist, or a navy and white silk ensemble. For evening dining at the fair's most fashionable Terrace Club, a black chiffon dress accessorized with a silver fox, white ermine or chunky soft mink jacket was deemed appropriate.