By Jamie Bradburn

Source: The Globe and Mail, September 30, 1971.

Once upon a time, the managers of Eaton’s men’s clothing department were preparing a hiring call for designers for their 1971 fall line. Just as they were about to post the position, an eccentric designer approached the retailer with a portfolio of exciting ideas. The man called himself Adam, and rumour had it that he had been a rising star in the fashion biz until overwork and several personal crises induced a nervous breakdown. He now believed he was the Biblical figure whose name he had assumed and claimed many of his ideas were simple suggestions delivered nightly by a higher figure. Most of the time these ideas had worked, but even “the first man of fashion” had his off days, such as the time he tried to sell an American department store chain on a line of fig leaves dyed to match the colours of fall.
Intrigued by Adam’s enthusiasm and willing to put aside his eccentricities, Eaton’s hired him. Shortly after his hiring, Adam heard his invisible advisor speak two words: “knicker knack.” Rushing into the office the next day in an excited state, Adam flipped through every magazine in the office to find out what the words meant. He came upon an article on the revival of styles from the 1920s and decided that he had received a hint to resurrect Jazz Age golf knickers. What could be more elegant? Adam even hoped that the proper publicity push would make “knicker knack” a lasting expression.
Alas, this was not to be. Tweed knickers for men failed to catch on with the general public and Adam was soon let go. Convinced that “knicker knack” still had mileage, the last anyone heard of Adam was a deal he made with a snack food company to use the expression as the name of a Cracker Jack knockoff. It was also said he no longer received tips at bedtime.
We weren’t able to find a matching “Eve” line of clothing, but we did find another elegant Eaton’s ad from the same newspaper that allowed female shoppers to unleash their inner harlequins.