Etiquette

First of all, to mind wearing a dress many times because it indicates a small bank account, is to exhibit a false notion of the values in life. Any one who thinks well or ill of her, in accordance with her income, can not be too quickly got rid of! But worthwhile people are influenced in her disfavor when she has clothes in number and quality out of proportion to her known financial situation.

It is tiresome everlastingly to wear black, but nothing is so serviceable, nothing so unrecognizable, nothing looks so well on every occasion. A very striking dress can not be worn many times without making others as well as its owner feel bored at the sight of it. "Here comes the Zebra" or "the Cockatoo!" is inevitable if a dress of stripes or flamboyant color is worn often. She who must wear one dress through a season and have it perhaps made over the next, would better choose black or cream color. Or perhaps a certain color suits her, and this fact makes it possible for her habitually to wear it without impressing others with her lack of clothes. But whether her background be black or cerise it should invariably blend with her whole wardrobe, so that all accessories can be made to do double or quadruple service.

Supposing you are a young woman with more beauty than wealth! Let us also suppose you have three evening dresses, a blue, a pink and a green. At the moment you can wear flesh-colored slippers and stockings with everything, which rather weakens the argument—however, a blue fan does not look well with a pink or a green dress, nor do the other combinations. Supposing, however, you had instead a cream-colored dress, a flesh-colored, and an orchid one. Flesh-colored slippers look much better with cream and orchid than with either green or blue, at any rate! A watermelon pink fan is lovely in night-light with all three; so is a cream one. Or perhaps by changing both fan and slippers, a different effect is produced, since the colors of your clothes are background colors.

But nothing really can compare with the utility and smartness of black. Take a black tulle dress, made in the simplest possible way; worn plain, it is a simple dinner dress. It can have a lace slip to go over it, and make another dress. With a jet harness—meaning merely trimming that can be added at will—it is still another dress. Or it can have a tunic of silver or of gold trimming; and fans, flowers and slippers in various colors, such as watermelon or emerald, change it again. In fact, a black tulle can be changed almost as easily as though done with a magician's wand.

To choose daytime clothes that go with the same hats, shoes, parasols, wrist-bags, and gloves, is equally important. A snuff-colored dress and a gray one need entirely different accessories. Russet shoes, chamois gloves, and sand-colored hat go also with henna, raspberry, reds, etc.; but gray must have gray or white shoes, gloves, and hat, which also go with blues, greens and violets.

Choose the clothes which you must have, carefully, and if you must cut down, cut down on elaborate ones. There is scarcely anywhere that you can not, fittingly go in plain clothes. Very few, if any, people need fancy things; all people need plain ones.

A very beautiful Chicago woman who is always perfectly dressed for every occasion, worked out the cost of her own clothes this way: On a sheet of paper, thumb-tacked on the inside of her closet door, she put a complete typewritten list of her dresses and hats, and the cost of each. Every time she put on a dress she made a pencil mark. By and by when a dress was discarded, she divided the cost of it by the number of times it had been worn. In this way she found out accurately which were her cheapest and which her most expensive clothes. When getting new ones she has the advantage of very valuable information, since she avoids the dress that is never put on, which is a bigger handicap for the medium-sized allowance than many women realize.

Restaurant dress depends upon the restaurant and the city. Because women in New York wear low-necked dresses and no hats, does not mean that those who live in New Town should do the same, if it is not New Town's custom. But you must never wear an evening dress and a hat! And never wear a day dress without one. If in the city where you live, people wear day clothes in the evening, you can only very slightly differ from them.

These are the occasions when elaborate day dresses are appropriate. But if you have very few clothes, you can perfectly well wear any sort of day dress that may be in fashion. A coat and skirt is not appropriate, since a skirt and shirt-waist is and always has been a utility combination. Unless, of course, the waist is of a color to match the skirt so that it has the appearance of a dress.

At a formal luncheon in town, one sees every sort of dress from velvet to tailor-made. Certain ladies, older ones usually, who like elaborate clothes, wear them. But younger people are usually dressed in worsted materials or silks that are dull in finish, and that, although they may be embroidered and very expensive, give an effect of simplicity. One should always wear a simpler dress in one's own house than one wears in going to the house of another.

The fault of bad taste is usually in over-dressing. Quality not effect, is the standard to seek for. Machine-made passementerie on top of conspicuous but sleazy material is always shoddy. Cut and fit are the two items of greatest importance in women's clothes, as well as in men's. But fashion changes too rapidly to make value of material always wise expenditure for one of slender purse. Better usually have two dresses, each cut and made in the whim of the moment, than one which must be worn after the whim has become a freak. In men's clothes the opposite rule should be followed since good style in men's clothes is unchanging.

To buy things at sales is very much like buying things at an auction; if you really know what you want and something about values, you can often do marvellously well; but if you are easily bewildered and know little of values, you are apt to spend your good money on trash. A woman of small means must either be (or learn to be) discriminatingly careful, or she would better have her clothes made at home, or if she is of "model" type, buy them ready-made. The ready-to-wear clothes in the Misses' Department are growing every year better looking; unfortunately and for some inexplicable reason, the usual Women's Department does not compare in good taste in selection of models with the former, and it is unusual to find a dress that a lady of fashion would choose except among the imported models, for which store prices are as a rule higher than those asked by the greatest dressmakers. Evening clothes are still usually unbuyable by the over-fastidious, except for a certain flapper type (and an undistinguished one at that!), and the ultra-smart woman is still obliged to go to the private importers for her débutante daughter's ball-dresses as well as her own—or else into her own sewing-room.

For years the thin, even the scrawny, have had everything their own way. The woman who is fat, or even plump, has a rather hopeless problem unless fashion goes to Turkey for its next inspiration, which is so unlikely it is almost possible! Two things the fat woman should avoid: big patterns and the stiff tailor-made. Fat women look better in feminine clothes that follow in the wake, never in the advance, of modified fashion. Fat women should never wear elaborate clothes or clothes in light colors or heavily feathered hats.

The tendency of fat is to take away from one's gracility; therefore, any one inclined to be fat must be ultra conservative—in order to counteract the effect. Very tight clothes make fat people look fatter and thin people thinner. Satin is a bad material, since high lights are too shimmeringly accentuated.

Heavy ankles, needless to say, should never be clothed in light stockings and dark shoes; long, pointed slippers accentuate a thick ankle, and so does a short skirt that has a straight hem. A "ragged" edge is most flattering. Dress, stockings and slippers to match are unavoidable in evening dress, but when possible a thick ankle should have a dark stocking—or at least a slipper to match the stocking.

People should select colors that go with their skin. And elderly women should not wear grass green, or Royal blue, or purple, or any hard color that needs a faultless complexion. Swarthy skin always looks better in colors that have red or yellow in them. A very sallow person in pale blue or apple green looks like a well-developed case of jaundice.

Ideal traveling clothes are those which do not wrinkle or show rain spots; and to find which these are it is necessary to take a sample of each material, sprinkle it with water, and twist it to see how much abuse it will stand. Every woman knows what she likes best, and what she considers suitable. Two alternating traveling dresses at least will be necessary, and two or three semi-evening dresses to put on for dinner. One very simple half-dinner dress of black, that has a combination of trimmings such as described earlier in this chapter, is ideally useful. Tourists do not put on evening clothes except in very fashionable centers, such as London, Paris, Monte Carlo or Deauville, and then only if staying at an ultra fashionable hotel. To be over-dressed is always in bad taste. So that unless you are going to visit or make several-day stops the one black evening dress suggested would answer every possible purpose.

If you intend staying for a long time in one place, you take all of your season's clothes; and if you are going to visit in England, or to stay anywhere in the country, you will need country clothes, but not on ordinary touring. For motoring, space is precious, and clothes should be chosen with the object of packing into small dimensions. Motoring in Europe is cold. A very warm, long wrap is necessary. An old fur one is much the best, and a small, close hat that does not blow.

You enter the lower reception hall and mount the bronze balustraded stairs half way when already Mlle. Marie is aware of your approach. She greets you not only as though you are the only customer she has ever had, but as though your coming has saved—just saved in time—the prestige of the house.

She tells you breathlessly that you are just in time to see the parade of models; she puts you where you may have an uninterrupted view. She then begins her greetings all over again by asking not alone after all the members of your family and an extraordinarily long list of friends, but makes a solicitous inquiry after each dress that she has ever sold you. "Did Madame like her white velvet?" she coos. "Was it not most useful? Was not her black lace charming? And the bisque cloth—surely Madame had found great satisfaction in wearing the bisque cloth?" But your ears are as stone to her blandishments! As a traveling suit, bisque-colored cloth had not been serviceable! Black lace with a cerise velvet under petticoat might be effective at Armenonville, but it had seemed queer, to say the least, at the tennis match in August. No, you are at last immune from any of those sudden attacks of new fashion fever that result in loss of judgment. You open your little book and consult your list.

You do not look at Mile. Marie's crestfallen face, you watch the procession of models. But the old spell works. Besides zebra stripes and gold shot with cerise and purple, you think an emerald green charmeuse is really a perfect substitute for the plain black crêpe de chine you had in mind. You show that you are hypnotized by remarking absently, "It is the color of the grass."

Instantly, Mlle. Marie, the most skillful vendeuse in Paris, becomes radiant. "Listen, Madame," she says to you in that insinuating, confidential, yet humbly ingratiating manner of hers. "Let me explain, Madame,—the idea of dress this year is altogether idyllic! Never has there been such charming return to nature. The great originator of our house has taken his suggestion—but yes! from the little animals of the fields and woods—from Nature herself! Our dresses this year are intended to follow the example of all the little animals dressed to match their backgrounds. Is not that thought exquisite? Is not that delicious? Is an emerald lizard conspicuous in the tropics? Is a zebra even seen in patches of sun and shade? And in the snow, think of all the little animals who put on white coats in winter! Obviously white is the color intended for winter wear. And for the spring, green. Emerald green assuredly. It is as Madame herself said, the color of the grass. The emerald charmeuse on a lawn in summer would be a poem of harmony. The cerise for afternoons at sunset; this orange shading into coral embroidery to wear beside the fire. The dark blue chiffon embroidered in silver is for night. All the colors that Madame at first found so bright—they are but the colors of a summer flower garden. What would Madame wear in a flower garden? Black crêpe de chine? Assuredly not! See this shell pink chiffon, how lovely it would look under trees of apple blossoms. Blue serge! Oh, what an escape.

However, to be serious, people do go to Paris and buy their clothes—beautiful clothes! Of course they do; especially those who go every year. But the woman who goes abroad perhaps every four or five years is apt to be deficient in a trans-Atlantic sense. "Match backgrounds, like charming little animals?" Never! Oh, a very big Never Again! And yet the next time shall you not find it a temptation to go just out of curiosity to find out what the newest artfully enticing little tune of the Pied Pipers of Paris will be!