Part 1 (1/2)
What Dress Makes of Us.
by Dorothy Quigley.
PREFACE.
Did you ever observe, dear comrade, what an element of caricature lurks in clothes? A short, round coat on a stout man seems to exaggerate his proportions to such a ridiculous degree that the profile of his manly form suggests ”the robust bulge of an old jug.”
A bonnet decorated with loops of ribbon and sprays of gra.s.s, or flowers that fall aslant, may give a laughably tipsy air to the long face of a saintly matron of pious and conservative habits.
A peaked hat and tight-fitting, long-skirted coat may so magnify the meagre physical endowments of a tall, slender girl that she attains the lank and longish look of a bottle of hock.
Oh! the mocking diablery in strings, wisps of untidy hair, queer tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, and limp hats. Alas! that they should have such impish power to detract from the dignity of woman and render man absurd.
Because of his comical attire, an eminent Oxford divine, whose life and works commanded reverence, was once mistaken for an ancient New England spinster in emanc.i.p.ated garments. His smoothly shaven face, framed in crinkly, gray locks, was surmounted by a soft, little, round hat, from the up-turned brim of which dangled a broken string. His long frock-coat reached to just above his loosely fitting gaiters.
The fluttering string, whose only reason for being at all was to keep the queer head-gear from sailing away on the wind, gave a touch of the ludicrous to the boyish hat which, in its turn, lent more drollery than dignity to the sanctified face of the old theologian. Who has not seen just such, or a similar sight, and laughed? Who has not, with the generosity common to us all, concluded these were the mistakes and self-delusions of neighbors, relatives, and friends, in which we had no share?
I understand how it is with you. I am one of you. Before I studied our common errors I smiled at my neighbor's lack of taste, reconstructed my friends, and cast contemptuous criticism upon my enemies. One day I took a look at myself, and realized that ”I, too, am laughable on unsuspected occasions.”
The humbling knowledge of seeing myself objectively, gave me courage to speak to the heart of you certain home truths which concern us all, in homely language which we can all understand.
That you may discern the comicality and waggery in ill-chosen clothes, I have endeavored to hint to you in these talks some of the ways gew-gaws and garments make game of us.
May you discover that your dress is not making you a laughable object; but if, by any chance, you should note that your clothes are caricaturing you, take heart. Enjoy the joke with the mirth that heals and heartens, and speedily correct your mistakes.
The lines of your form, the modelling of your face, are they not worthy of your discerning thought? Truly! Whatever detracts from them detracts from sculpture, painting, and poetry, and the world is the loser.
A word to the thinking is sufficient.
D.Q.
WHAT DRESS MAKES OF US.
CHAPTER I.
HOW WOMEN OF CERTAIN TYPES SHOULD DRESS THEIR HAIR.
The pleasing, but somewhat audacious statement of the clever writer who a.s.serted, ”In the merciful scheme of nature, there are no plain women,”
is not as disputable as it may seem. Honest husbands, to be sure, greet the information with dissenting guffaws; gay deceivers reflect upon its truth by gallantly a.s.senting to it, with a mocking little twinkle in their eyes; and pretty women, upon hearing it, remark sententiously ”Blind men and fools may think so.” Discerning students of womankind, however, know that if every woman would make the best of her possibilities, physically, mentally, and spiritually, it would be delightfully probable that ”in the merciful scheme of nature” there need be no plain women.
Have we not Lord Chesterfield's word for it, that ”No woman is ugly when she is dressed”?
It is no unworthy study to learn to make the best of, and to do justice to, one's self. Apropos of this, to begin--where all fascinating subjects should begin--at the head, it behooves every woman who wishes to appear at her best, to study the modelling of her face that she may understand both its defective and perfect lines. By a proper arrangement of her hair a woman can do much to obscure or soften her bad features, and heighten the charm of her good ones.
Romancers have written, and poets have sung, of the bewitchment in nut-brown locks, golden tresses, and jetty curls. Every woman, if so inclined, may prove for herself the transfiguring effect in a becoming coiffure. In fact, the beauty of a woman's face and her apparent age are greatly affected by the way she wears her hair.