What is it About Tory Burch?

The designer pivots into sportswear - and maintains her tennis grip on the American imagination.

- Amy Larocca

Polar fleece, it turns out, contains multitudes. And Tory Burch knows it.

Too thin, or too soft, and it looks cheap, basic, ready to accept the embroidered logo for a corporate 10K. But when the fleece gets thicker and curlier, it can become something else: slightly crunchy and Waspy and knowing. Such a fleece can reek of boarding school in the ’80s, though Tory Burch also knows that is currently a desirable thing. Which is why Burch, who is not only the designer but the face of the brand, is not quite satisfied with a cream-colored fleece vest during a fitting in a showroom at her Flatiron District offices. It’s too thin, too soft, not Tory. “Do you have those Steiff samples?” Burch asks her designers, who are German and wearing black, about fleece sourced from the high-end teddy-bear company. “Too expensive,” comes the answer, and Burch nods. Too expensive just wouldn’t work, it would go right against the plan. The polar fleece couldn’t be too expensive, but it would certainly have to look it. Another batch of samples is produced, and Tory pets them and shrugs. None is exactly right. Nearby, a member of Burch’s art department is waiting for approval on a series of short animations explaining some of the more technical aspects of the collections. The animations will appear on the website, which, in Burch’s plan for the business, will be Tory Sport’s No. 1 outlet, its main point of sale. In one video, an angry little microbe attempts entry (denied) to a jacket. (The jacket’s antimicrobial—get it?) “I love it,” Burch says unconvincingly. “In theory. But that little …” “Microbe.” “The microbe’s a little angry. Let’s try the same idea but less angry. More like us.” The designer nods—of course. Tory Burch is definitely not angry.