As a mother, she was always a bit different. In the morning she headed to work while her two children took a bus to school. As chief designer at a Montreal dress manufacturer, she was known by her maiden name at a time when married women adopted their husbands' names.
Edith's fashion-design work took her away from her family every few months, on trips to New York and Europe. But her children, Alfred (A.J.) and Marina, didn't feel neglected. She still micromanaged many facets of their lives. She researched their schools and their friends. She sent them to piano, drama and dance lessons. She designed her daughter's clothes, the uniform at her elementary school and the costumes for her school plays. She knew all of their teachers, and had an opinion about each.
The oldest of four children, Edith was born into a family with so little money that her father, Nathan Solomon, left Poland for Canada in 1928 to find more lucrative work. It took eight years before the family joined him in Montreal.
Edith's mother, Rachel, wanted a better life for her children, one rich with culture. It broke her heart that, at age 16, her eldest was forced to find work sewing dresses to help support the others. Edith's formal post-secondary education consisted of art courses at Concordia University (then Sir George Williams). For years she took university night courses on world politics.
She was a big believer in the people she loved and respected, and she was their biggest booster. Her daughter was the prettiest and the smartest. Her husband, Norman, was the most handsome, dignified and intelligent.
Norman was the love of her life, her confidant and business adviser. She had pursued him more aggressively than she had pursued her career. He put up with her eccentricities, her chronic lateness, her occasional nagging. She could be assertive; she demanded excellence. He catered to her like a queen, and she told everyone how lucky she was to have him.
He encouraged her to start her own fashion business and helped her set it up in 1965. She proudly put her married name on her label, Edith Strauss Designs. Vivid colours, fine fabrics and feminine styles were her trademark.
At home she played down her work. It's just the "shmatte business," she'd say. She'd don a housecoat, mop the floors and stop every once in a while to sketch a design. Her creative juices were always flowing. Out on the street, she had no compunction about stopping a stranger to admire her outfit. Then she'd pull out her sketch pad and draw the details.
Marina Strauss is Edith's
daughter.
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