By midnight, the hopefuls were jamming the sidewalk on Chicago's Michigan Avenue. One pregnant woman perched precariously on a fireplug. At 1 a.m. the mad milliner of the magnificent mile, Benjamin Benedict Greenfield, strolled into view, bareheaded, nodding to women with familiar bees in their bonnets.
In a land where women often confuse fashion with flash, Mr. Ben makes hats that sport everything from canned soup to nuts, fake pennies and phony posies, ersatz ballet dancers, grasshoppers and turtles. The materials are the best that mon ey can buy: coral, jade, moonstone. The price tags come high: $475.75 down to...
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