The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 9, 1904, Page 12

HE UL 7FPoBABLY TG THAT THINZILED SONG LVITIELT O dress well is a educated, bound social duty. self-respecting to clothe her tastefully becomingly as she can. But just when carried to excess de- toav so the art of dress- ing well, when_allowed to overstep its legitimate uses and expenditures, eas- \ olly and madness. The Every woman i neatly, person as as ound to lead. y there have been certain s and mutterings of discon- m husbands who have had to unexpectedly long bills costume”'— as a matter blame of money and deplore. for they face in the world, and the truest S woman, faked y always s umph over her so fa masculine aporeci and attention are con- cerned. The “faked” wo man has every- ture heart, e the dyed, the ar- i \V 7 ” M A -author. THE SAN sthing on her side. The drama supports her. The press en- courages her. Whole columns in seemingly sane journals are devoted to the description of her at- tire. Very little space is given to the actual criticism of a new play as a play, awarded to glorified ‘“gushers” con- cerning the actresses’ gowns. Of course it has to be borne in mind that the “writing up” of actresses’ gowns serves a double purpose. Firstly, the “crea- tors” of the gowns are advertised and may in their turn advertise—which, in these days of multitudinous rival news- papers, is a point not to be lost sight of. Secondly, the actresses themselyes are advertised and certain gentlemen with big noses, who move “behind the scenes” and are the lineal descendants of Moses and Aaron, may be thereby encouraged to speculate in theatrical “shares.” Whereas criticism of the play itself does no good to anybody nowadays, not even to the dramatic For if such criticism .be un- fayorable, the public says it is written by a spiteful enemy—if eulogistic, by a “friend at court,” and they accept neither verdict. They go to see the thing for themselves and if they like it they keep on going. If not, they stay away, and there’s an end. But to the gowns there is no end. The gowns, even in an unsuccessful play, are continuously talked of, con- tinuously written about, continuously sketched in every sort of pictorial smalil and great, fashionable or merely pro- vincial. And the florid language—or shall we say the “fine writing?”—used to describe clothes generally, on and off the stage, Is so ravingly sentimen- tal, so bewlilderingly turgid, that it can only compare with the fervid verbosity of the early eighteenth-century roman- cists, or the biting sarcasm of Thack- eray’'s “Book of Snobs,” from which the following passage, descriptive of ‘“‘Miss Snobky's” presentation gown, may be aptly quoted: ‘‘Habit de cour composed of a yellow nankeen illusion dress, over a slip of rich pea-green corduroy, trimmed en tablier with boquets of brussels sprouts, the body and sleeves hand- somely trimmed with calimanco and festooned with a pink train and white rnctllshe& Headdress, carrots and lap- By way of a modern pendant to the FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. but any. amount of room is' above grotesque suggestion one ex- tract from a lengthy ‘‘clothes’” article recently publijshed in a daily paper will suffice: “Among the numerous evening and dinner gowns that the young lady has in her corbeille, one, a I'Imperatrice Eugenie, ig very lovely. The founda- tion is of white liberty, with a tulle overdress. on which are four flounces of Chantilly lace ar- ranged in zig.zags, connected to- gether with shaded pink gloria rib- bons arranged in waves and wreaths. This is repeated on the low corsage and on the long, drooping sleeves of the high bodice. » “A rich toilet is of white liberty silk, with a flounce of magnificent Brussels lace festooned by leaves of the chest- nut, formed of white satin wrought in iris beads and ‘silver on white tulle. The whole gown is strewn with like leaves of graduating sizes, and the low corsage has a bertha of Brussels lace ornamented with smaller leaves, as are also the sleeves.” And s0 on, in unlimited bursts of enthusi- asm. I cannot say I am in the least sorry when “modistes” who ‘‘create” cos- tumes at forty, fifty and even one hun- dred and two hundred guineas per gown, are mulcted of some of their un- lawful profits by defaulting creditors. In nine cases out of ten. they richly deserve it. They are rightly punished when they accept with fulsome flat- tery and servile obsequiousness a “title” . as sufficient guarantee for credit, and in the end find out that her Grace the Duchess or Miladi the Countess are perhaps more wickediy reckless and unprincipled than any plain Miss or Mrs. ever born, and that these grandes dames frequently make use of both rank and position to sys- tematically cheat their tradespeople. The tradespeople are directly to blame for trusting them, and this is daily and continuously proved. But the touching crook-kneed worship of mere social rank still remains an in- gredient of the mercantile nature—it is inborn and raclal—a kind of microbe in the blood generated there in old feudal times, when all over the world peddlers humbly sought the pa- trcnage and favor of robber chief- tains, and unloaded their packs in the “castle hall” for the pleasure of the fair ladies who were kept at home in “durance vile” by their rough, un- washed lords. And so perhaps it has chanced through long custom and heritage that at this present day there is nothing quite so servile in all crea- tion as the spectacle of a “modiste” in attendance on a Duchess, or a “ladies’ tailor” bending himseif double while Geferentially presuming to measure the hips of a Princess. It is quaint— it is pitiful—it is intensely, deliciously comi¢. And when the price of the garment is never clearly stated and the bill never sent in for years lest offense is given to “her Grace” or “her Highness”—by firms that will, never- theless, have mo scruples in sending dunning letters and legal threats to un- titled ladies, who may possibly keep them waiting a little for their money, but whose position and credit are more firmly established than those of any “great’ personages with handles to their names, it is not without a cer- tain secret satisfaction that one hears of such fawning flunkeys of trade get- chestnut ting well burned in the fires of loss and disaster. For, in any case, it may be taken for grant- ed that theyalways charge a double, sometimes treble, price for a gar- ment or costume, over and above what that garment or costume {s really worth, and one may safely pre- sume they base all their calculations on possible loss. It is no uncommon thing to be told that such and such an evening blouse or bodice copied “from the Paris model” will cost 40 guineas. “We might possibly do it for 35,” says the costumer meditatively, studying with well assumed gravity the small, flimsy object he is thus pricing, a trifle made up of chiffon, ribbon and tinsel gew- gaws, knowing all the while that evervthing of which it is.composed could be purchased for much less than £10. Twenty-five guineas, 45 guineas, 65 guineas are quite common prices for gowns at any of the fashionable shops to-day. One cannot, of course, blame the modistes and outfitting firms for asking these absurd fancy prices if they can get them. If wom- en are mad it is perhaps wise, just and reasonable to take financial ad- vantage of their madness while it lasts. Certainly no woman of well balanced brain would give unlimited prices for gowns without most care- ful inquiry as to the correct value of the material and trimming used for them, and the feminine creature who runs into the elaborate showrooms ot Madame Zoe or Berenice or Faustina and orders frocks by the dozen, saying chirpingly: “Oh, yes! You know how they ought to be made! Your taste is always perfect! Make them very pretty, won't you? Much prettier than those you made for Lady Claribel! Yes, thanks! I'll leave it all in your hands!” is a mere lunatic, gibbgring nonsense, who could not, if she were asked, tell where twice two making four might possibly lead her in the sum total of a banking account. Not very long ago there was held a wonderful “symposgium” of dress at the establishment of a certain modiste. It was intensely diverting, entertaining and instructive. A stage was erected at one end of a long room, and on that stage, with effective flashes of lime- light played from the wings at inter- vals and the accompaniment of a Hun- garian band, young ladies wearing “creations” In costume stood, sat, turned, twisted and twirled, and finally walked down the room between rows of spectators to show themselves and the gowns they carried to the best possible advantage, The whole thing was much better than a stage comedy. Nothing could surpass the quaint peacock-like vanity of the girl “mannequins,” who strutted up and down, moving their arms about to exhibit their sleeves and swaying their hips to accentuate the fall and flow of flounces and draperies. It was a marvelous sight to behold, and it irresistibly reminded ome of a party of impudent children trying on for fun all their mothers' and elder sisters’ best long dresses while the unsuspeoting owners were out of the way. There was a ‘‘programme” of the performance, fearfully and wonderfully worded, the composition, S0 we were afterward “with bated breath” informed, of Madame la Modiste's sister, a lady, who by virtue of having written two small and rather clever skits on the manners, customs and modes of society, is in some obliging quarters of the press called a “novelist.” It is quite easy to dress well and tastefully without spending a very great deal of money. It certalnly re- quires brain, thought, foresight, taste and comprehension of the harmony of colors. But the blind following of a fashion because Madame This or That says it is chic or “le dernier cri” of some parrot-like recommendation of the sort, is mere stupidity on the part of the followers. To run up long credit for dresses without the least idea how the account is ever going to be pald is nothing less than a criminal act. It is simply fraud. And such fraud reacts on the whole community. Extravagant taste in dress is infectious. Most of us are impressed by the King’s sensible and earnest desire that the press should use its influence for good in fos- tering amity and good will between ourselves and foreign countries. If the press would equally use its efforts to discourage florid descriptions of dress in their columns much of the wild and willful extravagance which is frequent- ‘ly the ruin of otherwise happy homesg might be avoided. When Lady A sees her loathed rival Lady B's dress dé- scribed in half a column of newspaper “gush” she straightway yearns and schemes for a whole column of the same kind. When simple country giris read the amazing items of the toilettes worn by some notorious demi-mon- daine they begin to wonder how it Is she has such things and to speculate as to whether they will ever be able to ob- tain similar glorified apparel for them- selves. And so the evil grows, till by and by it becomes a perniclous disease and women look supercillously at one another, not for what they are, but merely to estimate the quality and style of what they put on their backs. Virtue goes to the wall If it does not wear a fashionable frock. Vice is wel- ~comed everywhere If it is clothed in a Paris “creation.” Nevertheless, Ben Jonson's lines still hold good: “Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a fea: Sull to be vowder'd, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found All is not sweet, ail is not sound.” “All is not sweet, all is not sound” when women think little or nothing of ordering extravagant costumes which they well know they will never be able through some dishon- uch as gambling at bridge, for example. Madame Modiste is quite prepared for such an exigency. for she does not forget to show ‘‘crea- tions” in clothes which, she softly purrs, are ‘“suitable fos bridge par- ties.” They may poséibly be called “The Tricky Trump” or “The Dazzling of a Glance Too Long” or “The Deft Im- press of a Finger Nail.” One never knows! i (Copyright. 1904, by Central News and Press Exchange.)