MODES OF THE MOMENT

Dominion, Volume 26, Issue 112, 4 February 1933, Page 7

MODES OF THE MOMENT

Passing Notes by Jane Wellington, February 3. Dear Mavis.— , ...... ... As far as the city goes, there are only very uninteresting things to tell roti of this week, for that inverted colander we call the sky has, in collaboration with a forceful, if spasmodic, wind from the north, made tilings demmed damp, moist, and unpleasant. In other words, our lovely summer weather is gone from us, and we are confronted by a dress problem that gives daily exercise to our ingenuity. . ~ , Kain and wind and warmth so seldom come together in M ellington, that, we are not ready to cope with them when they do. A mackintosh outfit, with a small knitted or crocheted cap, looks best, when the rain is actually driving or pelting down, or even when it is gently and mistily descending. With or without an umbrella. When a shower is over, however, and the wind has dried the streets again, the women in silk suits or Assam coats, or the girls in fresh print and ginghame frocks, with shiny straw summery hats, look so much more attractive and suitably dressed, that, you wonder whether it’s better to be out in the rain without a raincoat, or to be wearing a raincoat on a warm, dry day. An amazing number of women solve the problem for themselves by wearing fur coats. A fur coat over a floral georgette dress, the outlit topped with a straw hat, and finished with black satin high-heeled shoes, is a familiar sight in the city, seeming a favourite defence against unstable weather, and the principal item in the dress-creed of half our female population. A fur coat is presumably the answer to any uncertainty in the matter of what: to wear, and when. A cold day, a warm day, a wet day; morning shopping, afternoon and evening party; at home and travelling, the New Zealand woman relies on her fur coat to see her through all emergencies. 1 can’t think why, because after all there arc much more attractive and practical garments to bo had at. a very much lower cost. The lighter tweeds and plain wool materials of to-day are infinitely more becoming, and they have the supple graceful quality a fur coat inevitably lacks. But you want, to hear of the new season's dresses, so I must stop just talking, and say something. . , . ~ , ~,,, You must, first get ready fora smlden switch to purple am be real old magenta. The new colour might easily be called pickled cabbage, but of course it’s not. I’ll find out what it really is, and will toll you later. Violet of every shade is as much a craze as the bright shades of 1 Im. were last year. Grey has not. come with such a rush as was cxpectcu, but it is certainly in the race. Brown and navy blue arc among the favourites, but because of their less startling character, they are not so noticeable as purple. : ,i, Materials have introduced the real novelty into the fashions, which are very little ehanged in line from the more simple high-necked styles of last season. Nearly all the silks as well as the wools have a dull, crinkled surface, and there is a great deal of Angora used in the softer wool fabrics. There is so much interest in the actual materials that the designers have recognised the necessity for absolute simplicity in construction, and restrained their natural inclination for trimmings. With a few well-chosen sections fitting nicely one into the other, a gather hero, a tuck there, and seams closely followng the figure, they have arrived at what may easily prove the most beautiful fashions of any period. Buttons arc used extensively as the only really excusable trimmings; they are always justified by being made to button one panel down upon another, or to fasten the whole length of the back or front or side of a dress, or its cuffs or collar or belt. There are collars or scarf-finishes on nearly all the necks, made of white or creme silk in the new crinkled weave; the most attractive material; and not new at all. The word lias haunted the back of my mind since the first of it enme a few weeks ago. “Marvellous how they think of these new weaves!” said someone. “But it’s not. new. It’s .” I kept repeating, while the name chided me. To-night 0. Henry gave ib to me in one of his short stories, for “William” spoke of the seersucker vest he used to wear on dress occasions; and that was the name of the cotton stuff that fashioned a hated garment of my early youth in a far-away Californian town. Stuff that looked, I swear, exactly like this new white crinkled silk, and with just the same crossed-stitch effect, on Ihe wrong side. I do adore being middle-aged. It gives one such an advantage in the way of general knowledge! With love. Yours, JANE,