IT'S A BATTLEFIELD!

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 219, 16 September 1939, Page 4

IT'S A BATTLEFIELD!

For Women

WATCH them all, tight against the shop door, a solid phalanx, the light of battle in their eye, their loins girded for the fray. Make no mistake, halfprice sale day is a Waterloo where only the quick and tough carry off the prizes.

ByJess Duff

It is not yet ni 11 o and scores are here. The ones nearest tin' door nuist have been waiting for an lintir. All ages and ft vies, from flappers to iron-sided matrons. the seasoned old Crimean sales veterans. If they had lived long ago, (hese would have been the Amazons, the matriarchs. If they'd been men, these stalwarts would have been prize-

Women Are Not The Gentler Sex On HalfPrice Sale Day!

fighters or dashing football forwards prominent in the scrum. I am in the last sector, but near enough to notice a humorous episode. I see. an enormous woman, well planted and squared right in front in the middle of the door whose very back bristles with a readiness to take on all comers. She shoves every other rival back, and probably has a square jaw and is dominated by a single thought: Me first for the bargains. Obviously she is making her presence felt, because, just when the clock begins the fateful stroke of nine, someone behind her reaches up, lifts her hat off and heaves it well back. What follows is lost in (he confusion of the first offensive. r J he wide door opens slowly,

not half wide enough for these sleuth hounds with shopping bags pouring in like water out of a bucket. You people with full purses miss most of the fun. Why, these hordes are cave-women, who will grab and fossick and snatch, killing with looks and only stopping short of blows. The shopgirls smile condescendingly as they see the determined firet section rushing in (these are the really formidable bargain snappers), but they will be glad when Half-price Day is over, as it's more than one and a half day for them! In the showroom podgy ladies are frantically bobbing little pimples of hats on shaggy locks and shoving to get a view in the eadly overworked mirror. Nearby girls are laying pullovers against their chests and also competing for the mirror. Others are buttonholing themselves into tight frockts, and how they are to get out again is almost a job for the tin opener. 'I he harried shopwomen rush here and there, and the change in little receptacles comes whirring along the lines. One woman is actually here with a dog

on the lead, which she holds firmly with one hand while the other makes hay of a lot of wispy blouses. What's this — two women holding a maroon velvet opera cloak between them. I hear one saying, almost in tears: "I had it in my hand first, and you grabbed it from me." The other says tartly (she comes from a more select suburb): "Pardon me," and still keeps a firm hold of the sleeves. I go down to the cottons—which is the haberdashery? I never can remember. The sweeping reductions are nothing to the half-price counter, which draws like a magnet, a sign to make Hie heart of woman go at twice its normal rate. I dive into the fabrics, but another just at my elbow is fossicking with the speed of a dog scratching out dirt. She already has two bales over one arm, but by the look in her eye she lias not yet fulfilled her eternal quest. There is always that will-o'-the-wisp something round the corner or on the dearer counter. One piece catches my eye, a pricey green. I'm not quick enough; someone else has pounced. The Hamlet mind, "To be or not to be," gets left in tlie cold at the half sale counter. Do it now, and quick's the word is the motto of this famous day, when women shod their top dressing and become as predatory as wolves. I get something nifty at BJd a yard. The next ordeal is' being wedged against tlie counter for about half an hour (if you're lucky) with a crowded hour of glorious life surging richly round you. Women eye each other suspiciously with an apprehensively urgent look ready for the poor salesman. He avoids eyes. I hear a voice saying: "That was my piece, and that lady along there got off with it. Wasn't it my piece?" she appeals plaintively to the salesman. Wise man, lie goes on measuring, snipping and wrapping up and says nothing. "I've got a green breakfast room," says a buyer to me, shoving a bale of cream muslin under my nose. "D'you think it'll go well? ffow many yards will it take for three big windows and a little one?" 1 am not in the mood for arithmetic, so am vague. "Ooh. i«n't it awful the way you have to wait?" says a heavy, bespectacled lady to me, shifting her weight to the other foot. "I've been waiting to be served since five past nine," sighs a girl. "It is now ju-ii on tell." "The battle of the cottons," I say. "Don't you think we women would be useful in the Army?" "(Josh, we wouldn't have a hope," says the salesman with a grin. Then, more testily: "You'll be attended to in a minute if you'll wait your turn. I'm not a machine." The women look at each other and sigh, then gaze down on their bundles of stuff over their arms and purr with satisfaction.

Suddenly I feel I've had enough. Oh, for a little peace and quiet, where you can hear the elock tick and where clothes do not matter!

I depart with my dozen yards at Bsd, and I have not figured out yet what I'll do with that dozen. I shall never forget a sale of years, ago, when I bought some beautiful quality eilk stockings dirt cheap, to find when I got home that they came up only to my calves! This morning I picked up a little love of a hat of light felt, dahlia red with a crisp white corded hatband ending in a kind of horizontal exclamation point. If you're in good form, sales day can be fun. But it's a battlefield. ♦ * * * Beauty Hints fJTETE cleansing action of an apple at the end of every meal helps to preserve your teeth. ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ fpHE commonest sources of rheumatic intoxication are infected teeth, tonsils, nasal sinuses and intestines. + ♦ ♦ ♦ fpHIS solution of salt is a splendid antiseptic: Add a teaspoon of common salt to a pint of water, apply it on lint to any wound, sore or ulcer. ♦ * ♦ ♦ JJHEUMATIC pain is caused by toxic substances or bacteria passing into the circulation and producing an inflammatory reaction in your joints, your nerves, or the fibrous framework of your muscles.