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The Ritz Lady, of course, had her rivals. Viewers were familiar with Cadillac Furs, whose models seemed to be considerably younger than the Ritz Lady, and Flemington Furs. The archival Flemington commercial we unearthed closely paralleled the structure of the Ritz ad, but with older models (In a surreal touch, Model #1 in our ca. 1978 ad was a dead ringer for Beatrice Arthur as Maude, while Model #2 could have functioned as a stand-in for Jean Stapleton as Edith on All in The Family) and more expansive use of location footage. In terms of being seared
into New York’s collective memory almost as indelibly as The Ritz Lady, the first runner up was definitely Fred the Furrier. His ads featured a dulcet lady vocalist singing a slow song whose sole lyric was “Come In Out Of The Cold” as not one, not two, but five elegantwould-be Ritz Ladies modeled furs at various glamour spots around NYC and Fred The Furrier, resplendent in a Man’s Mink and fashionable (in the 1970s) oversized glasses, urged the viewer to Come In Out Of The Cold to the Fur Vault at Alexander’s. But, in the end, there was no contest at all. Cadillac, Flemington, and Fred the Furrier all felt the need to update their promos, while the Ritz Thrift Shop not only stuck with the tried and true formula but also the tried and true 1974-shot ad. The commercial said everything one needed to know about Ritz, said it succinctly, and said it in less than a minute. And said it nearly every day for 14 years. Just through repetition, one could not help but absorb the store’s address, desired clientele, and M.O. Much like the Rolls-Royce or the V.W. Beetle, there was neither need nor desire to update regularly.
The Ritz Lady’s only true counterpart was Los Angeles auto dealer Cal Worthington, whose death defying stunts, and trademark line “I’m Cal Worthington and this is my dog, Spot” as he walked some potentially lethal animal like a tiger or a bear, haunt West Coasters of our age group with the same….ferocity…that the Ritz Commercial haunts New Yorkers. Worthington had a certain devil-may-care charm that might have intrigued the Ritz Lady, but would she have been happy relocated to Los Angeles? Would she have tolerated, for long, a “significant other” who each week stuck his head into the mouth of a killer whale, wing walked on a place, and fondled tarantulas all to sell gently used 1971 Pontiacs? Our opinion, no offense meant to Mr. Worthington, is that both legendary characters moved in a specific sphere into which the other would never have fit.
Then. one day, at the dawn of the Gangsta Rap and Grunge era, The Lady vanished, and the legend began.
