Florence became the talk of the town. She was welcomed in the most exalted circles. Powers put her in charge of his school, teaching other young girls from farms how to become models. Then Dick Canning went away to war. Florence still had to go out dancing, at the Stork and other gay spots. After her divorce from Canning, the wealthiest and most eligible young men in New York's swank set began to kneel at Florence's feet. Florence capitalized on her glamor first as a contact woman for Sam Goldwyn, sent ahead of his super productions to woo publicity, then as a fashion editor, and later as a highly paid radio commentator. She lost Alf Vanderbilt, but married another Vanderbilt heir, the very rich, very social Earl E.T. Smith. Though clothes made the gal in Florence's case, Café Society doesn't go in for overdressing. The siren with the extreme hat or costume shrieks like one. You will find that most best-dressed wrens, aristocrats or successful upstarts, seldom wear hats. While it's socially proper to dress formally, the percentage of those in evening wear in the best spots is definitely below the "fast sets" in rich inland towns. But what East Siders lack in flash is offset in taste, quality and richness. A mink coat is the irreducible minimum for a squab who wants to travel in our so-called best circles. In some spots, ordinary minks have grown so common, it's said the women give them to their maids and take on gray and blue minks. In one club, the gag is that you aren't allowed past the plush rope unless you're wearing a stone marten or platina. Other animals are sent around to the back door. The East Side's most overdressed crowd was seen at the fabulously successful Monte Carlo, a large portion of whose well-heeled customers were nouveaux riches from New York's golden needle trades market. This club was born as the House of Morgan, built for the late Helen Morgan by a wealthy admirer. Torchy La Morgan was by then on the way down. The place soon folded and went into bankruptcy. Its premises remained empty until Felix "Fefe" Ferry, Romanian-born producer and promoter, an émigré from Monte Carlo, London and Paris, raised a bank roll to open what was to be the town's most exclusive cabaret. The new company was underwritten by a score of New York's richest men, on the theory that, as part owners, they would become regular patrons. A requirement for admission to the bistro was evening clothes. Now, it is a fact that those who like to dress will not do so under compulsion. Even the stockholders stayed away. When it went broke, Ferry raised new capital and operated under a less rigorous policy. But the seed had been sown and had taken root. The real estate firm operating the property decided to take a flyer in the saloon business itself, putting Sam Salvin, son of a successful night club operator of a generation ago, and Dick Flanagan, a happy character with a load of friends, in charge.