Also missing are the formalities of command: there’s not much concern for titles it seems. About the only indication of who makes the final decisions is the constant flow of people in and out of two offices at the end of a long hallway. It’s here that brothers Stuart and Jeff Feldstein oversee operations of the company, a responsibility that passed to them when their parents, Bill and Honey, retired in 1984.

The brothers have divided management duties between them. Stuart handles production, finances, and the office operation. Jeff is responsible for marketing, purchasing, and scheduling. Both point out, however, that most major decisions are made together, and with the advice of staff members.

"Like most everything around here, decision-making is a fairly informal process," Stuart Feldstein notes. "We talk about things with each other and with the staff, then try to do what seems logical and sensible. Instinct and feelings are important in this business."

It’s their lack of pretension that sets the prevailing tone of the company. They downplay the importance of titles, especially their own. Officially, Stuart is president and Jeff is vice-president, but as Jeff says, that’s only because corporate legalities required someone to have those titles. "When our parents retired, Stuart and I had a long discussion about who should be president. I won the argument [and Stuart is president]."

Stuart attributes much of the workplace informality to the family nature of the business.

"When our parents bought Wolff-Fording in 1959, it was a small operation. We all pitched in to get the work done, helped by a few employees who had been with the company for years. We didn’t have enough time or people to worry about titles or job descriptions," Jeff says. As the company has grown, both generations of Feldsteins have tried to make every employee feel a part of the company family.

"We’ve always placed a high value on mutual trust, loyalty and friendship," Stuart adds. "I don’t think any of us would be very productive in a tightly regimented situation."

The casual air is deceptive though. Beneath it is an intense energy that resonates through all three floors of the building. This is especially true during the peak season, from January to about mid-May. In those few months, the company makes and ships several hundred thousand costumes and accessories to dance schools through the United States and Canada and many foreign countries. With hundreds of incoming orders and thousands of costumes being shipped each week during peak times, the pace can be hectic and the hours long.

That spirits stay high and humors good may be due in part to the unique character of the costume business. In its own way, every day is "showtime." It’s just hard to be unhappy in the midst of all the glitter and sequins.

Then there’s the feeling of having some small part in hundreds of performances. Dannie Kain puts it this way, "Working at Wolff-Fording is like coming home. I was raised in a family with a theater background, so I can imagine what’s going on out where the orders are shipped -- the studios, the teachers, the parents, the children, the excitement, the nerves, dress rehearsal, showtime. Sometimes when I finish an order, I say, ‘Break a leg, kids.’"

That Kain feels at home is not surprising, because the company’s connection with the theater goes back to its founding in 1893. William Wolff and Ann Fording were opera singers. A twist of fate turned them from performers to costumers. Time has blurred details of the story, but the two singers were in Boston for a performance at the Castle Square Theatre. Their costumes were to be sent from New York. They never arrived. Being both resourceful and a believer in the "show must go on" tradition, Ann Fording spent a long weekend cutting and sewing costumes for the performance. Presumably, William made some contribution to the effort; exactly what is unknown. In any case, both of them appeared at Castle Square on time and in costume.

Fate sealed the singers’ shifted destinies when the next troupe of performers arrived at the theater. Their costumes didn’t make it to Boston either. Since Fording and Wolff now knew the area and where to get fabrics, they set about making costumes for the new company of players. Receiving rave reviews for their work and, presumably having no pressing singing engagements elsewhere, the pair decided to stay in Boston and make costuming their full-time business. Thus the story has it, opera singers William and Ann became Wolff-Fording, Costumers.

The enterprising pair settled into a building on Stuart Street. It was a grand place by all accounts, with elaborate woodwork, swinging doors, and a spectacular staircase sweeping up to a balcony. It quickly became a favorite gathering spot for visiting performers, famous and not-so-famous. Legend has it that Wolff and his friends would frequently burst into an aria, sometimes singing an entire opera to its grandiose conclusion. It is said that Enrico Caruso was a regular visitor, and two costumes worn by the great tenor were among the company’s treasured possessions for many years.

In true fairy tale fashion, William Wolff and Ann Fording eventually married. They continued to operate the business until the late 1920’s. At some point, the company passed to Ann’s nephew, Mark Cole. Little is known about Cole except that he was an eccentric, passionately opposed to smoking, and reportedly quite temperamental.

Until the Feldsteins acquired the company in late 1959, Wolff-Fording had dealt mostly with custom-made costumes, theatrical fabrics, trims, and accessories. It also had a thriving rental business. The current mode of ready-made, mail-order costuming had not yet evolved. Most dance teachers still bought fabrics and had their costumes made, either by willing parents or professional seamstresses. Wolff-Fording’s market was limited largely to New England.

As Bill Feldstein tells the story, "My brother and I had operated a fabric company, General Textiles, for a number of years. Wolff-Fording’s owners approached us to buy their company assuming, I suppose, that our experience in the fabric business would naturally carry over to the making of costumes. I soon discovered that I was in a business I knew very little about. It really was a matter of learning as we went along. Thank goodness for some loyal Wolff-Fording employees and a supportive family."

In those days, the business truly was a family affair. Bill’s wife Honey says, "I knew absolutely nothing about making costumes, All of a sudden, there I was down on the retail floor, measuring fabrics. I just stayed on until we retired."

Her sister, Dora Feinzig (Auntie Doe), joined the family business, too. She still works in the Boston store. Her memories of 32 years include the celebrities who have visited the store. "Beatrice Lillie came in one day to buy a tiara, and Judy Garland rented a clown suit for a play she was in."

Sons Stuart and Jeff grew up with the company. Stuart, sixteen when his parents bought Wolff-Fording, cut fabrics and delivered New Year’s decorations. Eleven-year-old Jeff’s early contribution is a little less clear.

"I remember spending a lot of time playing on the fifth floor," he says. "It was a magical place for a child -- there were swords and hats, all kinds of great stuff for a kid."

His father remembers some of the less romantic details. "Two floors of the building weren’t heated, so there were many winter mornings we’d be cutting sequin leotards at 5:00 a.m. in overcoats and boots," Bill notes.

The Feldsteins make a point of acknowledging the contributions of employees like Charlie Sherr, who came with them from General Textiles to manage production; Esther Stern, now deceased, whose career at Wolff-Fording spanned 52 years (she was the last employee who actually had worked with Wolff and Fording); and Gertrude Benson, the company’s designer until 1972.