An excerpt from Beverly's writings with artwork made her time at Bergdorf Goodman

My love affair with Manhattan was intensified when it became my time to find my niche in a world I'd only dreamed existed. I had another semester of art school to finish that summer when I became itchy to find employment in my field.

It began in the Time/Life/Fortune Building at Rockefeller Center, where a very generous teacher who also worked for American Crayon Company, provided space for her students to exhibit their work. Nora Zwibruck was a textile designer who taught the subject brilliantly, and as a student, I learned quickly from her and had produced a plethora of work. We, in the class were so proud at the opening to which all her friends in the building were invited. "Contacts" she said, were so important to our futures. We met interesting and sophisticated people who, I'm sure, were doing Nora a favor by attending this student show. But contacts were indeed made and led me directly to my unbelievable job at Bergdorf Goodman.

In a nearby suite of rooms, Mary Rehan, a most prestigious lawyer, had her office. She liked my work and asked what I intended to do to make myself known in the big city. I blundered some answer about costume design being my major area of study, when she said she had an idea for me. She had many clients who were either in or on the fringe of the fashion industry whom I should meet. "Not that they would have a position," she said, "but they may know someone who may." How very generous of her. She gave me a list and told me to call each person on the list, use her name as an entry, take my portfolio of work and "pound the pavements," I think she even called one or two herself because when I introduced myself they seemed to expect my call.

1 had a most interesting week developing great calf muscles as I walked and walked from one exciting place -- to another not so exciting -- to yet another. On and on I went, meeting people who were usually president of their firm. Mary Rehan dealt with only the top echelon. My search finally led me to meet the president of Faberge, who was most gracious. We sat in her lovely office surrounded by walls painted a sophisticated shade of green with a pot of the brightest violet lobelia on the window sill. Remembering that still may seem strange, but it was such a beautiful setting and what was to come seemed to be connected somehow to that amazing pot of lobelia. I still try to have that flower every year in my garden. I wish I could remember her name. Madame President of Faberge perfume asked me if I had met or been to see Alene Bernstein at the Costume Institute of The Metropolitan Museum of Art. I hadn't and then she so kindly called Mrs. Bernstein and told her that someone was coming to see her with a great deal of ability.

I was too excited to bother with a bus or the subway and being a poor student, I never had cab fare, so I just walked from 45th Street to 87th -- rather -- I flew on the wings of delirium. It was months later that I realized just who Alene Berstein was and how she figured in the life of the writer, Thomas Wolfe. But when I met her that day, she was a small, sweet, grandmotherly woman who greeted me warmly and liked my work. As she leafed through the pages of fashion/costume renderings, she said rather matter of factly, "Edith Frankel at Bergdorf's should meet you." She explained that this close friend of hers was in charge of the custom-made department at Bergdorf Goodman and she thought that she employed artists and designers. She called her friend and made an appointment for me to meet her that very afternoon. I had a difficult time believing this was really happening to me.

This time I had only to sprout my wings and fly to 58th Street. By now the delirium had grown to frenzy, and soaring back down Fifth Avenue was a breeze. Approaching Bergdorf's I realized that I had never been inside its doors -- it was that intimidating — with its luxurious decor and expensive reputation. In the front door I nervously went, and up to the fifth floor in the glass mirrored elevator, glancing shyly at myself thinking my clothes were not right and who in the world did I think I was expecting to work here!

The elevator doors opened to that exquisite salon swathed in beige so as not to distract from the garments being modeled and carried to customers. I was greeted by Ms Frankel who immediately opened my portfolio and began passing my drawings around the salon saying very nice things. An older woman, Doris Zuege, was called to come over from the studio to see my work and meet me. Doris was asked if she needed anyone in the studio, to which she replied that I would be perfect to illustrate the French collection when it arrived and was hired on the spot!

Never mind flying -- when I left the building, I was floating. The air suddenly became so buoyant that it lifted me all the way home to tell my family of the marvelous adventure that had been mine that day.

Four of us in the studio were to make drawings of each garment in each collection, work with customers on original designs and make drawings for women who were in other parts of the world who could have their clothes crafted from their dressmaker dummies kept in the store. I was assigned the French collection, imported each season after the Paris showings. Christian Dior, Jacques Fath, Nina Ricci, Balenciaga, Balmain, Patou, Givenchy, Schiaparelli, Molyneux, Lanvin were some of the French couturiers whose designs were purchased by Bergdorfs.

We were invited to view the collections at the press showings in the salon -- complete with champagne and violins. Daily we carefully brought each gown to the studio to view it in close proximity in order to capture in our drawings each perfectly crafted detail. Two windows of our studio looked on to Fifth Avenue -- F.A.O. Schwartz slightly to the left, Tiffany's across 57th Street to the right, Van Cleff and Arpels directly below!

The job was beyond anything I had hoped for -- working with very good people for a very good firm, doing the kind of work I loved doing, in a most appealing setting, in the city that I adored.