Nancy Gold was a woman in a man's clothing world — custom shirts. Talk about a bad fit.
Not due to any lack of skills. Gold found that her only shortcoming was her gender: It was the 1960s, and custom shirtmakers in the United States were men. "No women were in the industry," she said.
But when life presents you with unplanned circumstances — in Gold's case, a divorce when she had three children younger than 6 — gender barriers be damned. Especially when a career move seems like fate, as this one did for the heavily spiritual Gold.
She opened her door one Sunday morning to find a newspaper she had not subscribed to. In it, she found a want ad for an "upscale retail haberdashery sales position" offering up to $110 a week. Men and women were invited to apply. Gold got that job with the Custom Shop, a New York custom-shirt chain that hired her for a store in Philadelphia. Seven years later, by then a store manager, she was fired for resisting a demotion to assistant manager when a man was hired to run the shop.
And thus began the start-up career of an entrepreneur believed to be the first female custom shirtmaker in the country, whose clients have included such prominent individuals as W. Wilson Goode Sr., George Steinbrenner and Lewis Katz. Nearly 40 years later, Gold, 76, remains in business as King's Collar Shirtmakers Inc., taking clients' measurements and performing fittings in her suburban home. There, she has also launched TKC Business Consultants to "help entrepreneurs avoid the pitfalls."
Also to that end, she has written "Shirt Tales: The Stories Behind a Successful Start-up," hoping her personal story will advise and inspire other entrepreneurs.
"I'm fearless, that's the key," Gold said of her persistence, despite a firing, business setbacks, three failed marriages, at-times withering debt and a breast-cancer scare. "I'm not afraid to be embarrassed. I can't even say I'm afraid to fail. Everything in life that happens is a gift or a lesson."
The mother of five traces her career choice to when she was 10 and her own mother married her divorce attorney, Joseph Gold, a widower who would later become president judge of Philadelphia Common Pleas Court. Each night, Gloria Gold would lay out her husband's outfit for the next day, and her daughter found herself impressed by the J.E.G. monogram on the cuffs.