A FRENCH WATERING-PLACE. BATHING AT DINARD.

Evening Post, Volume LX, Issue 102, 27 October 1900, Page 2 (Supplement)

A FRENCH WATERING-PLACE. BATHING AT DINARD.

(A Seaside' Sketch by,G. W. Steevens). Overhead the sky is brilliant azure ; before you the sea is yet more brilliant turquoise. Everything is neat and bright and spick-and-span ; it is difficult to think that the sky and sea are not as prettily artificial as the smart villas and the geranium beds on the ledges of the cliff. And across a little estuary, mediaeval St. Malo, its sheer battlemented walls rising out of tho sea, a packed huddle. of roofs above them, and a single slim spire rising out of the centre, looks as if it surely must be cut out of cardboard. In this setting shine the visitors. Their clothes are so wonderfully radiant that they could hardly be worn in a town, much_ less in the country, or anywhere exoept in a glass case. I am not fit to describe such glories ; but you can seen an adumbration of them on the lawn at Ascot or Goodwood. Not even, in the sea is costume forgotten— indeed, yOu may say that the sea is merely an. excuse for the bathing-dress. Not that it needs any excuse. It is so far apart from the Sloppy bags of my day at the English seaside as Savile-row is from Houndsditch, The lady from Paris wears a good deal of bathing-dress. On her head, if she be what is called a " sporrtsvoman " and intends to swim, she wears a waterproof bonnet, puffed and gathered into a fash-, ionable shape, scarlet or lilao or yellow, according to her complexion. More likely she goes into the sea in a huge straw hat with ribbons and feathers and flowers ; her tunic is*cut low, and is adorned, like her knockerbockers, with lace; her stockings are silk, and her elegant strap shoes have elegant paste buckles. Very often she does not go into the sea at all. She merely appears from a machine well up the beach. The French bathing-machine is a canvas cabin on very squat wheels ; it is not made to go into the water. Thence the lady emerges with a peignoir about her, and strolls down towards the sea. Arrived within hail of it, she gives the peignoir to her maid or leaves it on a chair. Then she goes delicately up and down a little, advances to the very edge of the ' ripples, turns, and comes delicately back aeairh Then she will meet friends — ladies similarly attired or men coming up the beach dripping ; they pause and enjoy a few minutes' conversation. Then another excursion to the edge of the ripples, more friendß, more conversation. Finally, she returns to her cabin, and from a huge cauldron on a truck, which steams on the beach and which a faded horse periodically draws down, to the sea for replenishment, they bring her hot water for her foot bath. Then breakfast or dinner, as the case may be, with a fresh gown, and. after that the Casino. In the Casino ig a theatre where you may see Mile. Hading act or hear Planchette sing, a little room with a little orchestra of ladies, calleriei overlooking the sea where you may take your coffee and cognac, a waiting-room, and an» American bar. At nighjb, if there is no play, there will be dancing. , On any night the place swishes with silk Bkirts and twinkles with cigarette-tips. But, whether it be acting or dancing, there is one diversion that is always the most popular in the place— petits-chevaux; The horses spin round, break line; "rien ne va plus"; ladies glue their eyes to their franc on its square of the green table, and await the fateful "«ept. rouge," as if it were a saving their souli.