Chat From Paris

Evening Post, Volume CXXIII, Issue 1, 2 January 1937, Page 17

Chat From Paris

By Margaret Manet.

COMMON-SENSE VOGUES

The flair for creating fashions that can enamour the rest of the world is not, in Paris, the happy knack, reputation, or lucky experiment that many think it. Gowns that appear the result of accident or sheerest frivol often take months to evolve. The trend has to be carefully studied, and, watched unceasingly. Every gown—that is original—is a gamble that may prove "devastating"—if not to the public, most certainly to its designer. Young Rochas is a born gambler, but, fortunately for him, he is also something of a prophet, and when he moved to his new premises he proved his prophecy, for fashionable trade moved with him. His gowns, that so often appear bizarre, or extreme to the point of grotesqueness, may foretell Fashion. Very .seldom indeed does he "let a client down." But not many have his courage.

His work is all built on tremendous study and endless hours of hard thought, and planning. • Everything, in

such a i:areer, requires personal supervision. Who else, for instance—struck for an idea—would light on mermaids in ivory for jacket fastenings? Who but a gambler would stake his reputation On a childish arrangement of claypipes to create a target-like front for a wide belt, as he did early in the season? But for the most part you will find, behind the seeming nonsense in the play of fashion, a common-sense suggestion* arising definitely out of what has gon-2 before. Much, is inspired by. topical events —.air pageants, war propaganda, invasions of alien art. But more actually happens as a result of a study of the

(psychology of the masses. One can anticipate, if one is clever enough, exactly when, where, and how dresses shall be shorter, hair long, flowers worn, or jewels discarded. And this is the instinct that makes the successful designer. Thus the little basque, that gives her chance to the too-tall angular woman, suggests vaguely the belted shirts and tunics of the peasant Naturally, then, evolve the many other simplicities which one associates vaguely with native dress—the loops, the buttons, the studded belts found on the roadsides in most European States. Slender waists, flared hips, bounteous shoulders, and gathered, but close-fitted, bodices are among these. And, at the moment, they are all in Paris. One is in softest black wool. A jacket with lifted shoulders and looseflowing, open, wrist-length sleeves. The bodice is fitted and fastens simply, from high neck-to waist, with strings that tie in peasant fashion. A tunic flare, very full and mid-thigh length, is held in close at the waist by a wide, turquoise-studded belt, broadening in front to a veritable plaque. Black felt hat with a turquoise feather. The only capitulation is the extremely! slender skirt, which is worn even l shorter than usual. It is a striking ensemble for the tall woman who is also slender. j Another tunic is less generous in ite flare-fulness and is all But Jsneelength. Again the skirt is the merest sheath. This however, the sleeves—full and short to a little above-the-elbow band —achieve shoulder stress by four generous pleatings. Tile round neck is circled by a simple upstanding band cut in battlementpd edge. Buttons, set very close, run from neck to hem. This vogue is carried, with great common sense, into the evening. A similar tunic, very fully flared, and buttoned close from neck to waist only, is made of web-like net. The sleeves are very full and high-puffed, but shaped to fit tightly well above the elbow. A demure flat collar is worn of contrasting white, finished in front with three finely-pleated and stiffened ends. A belt to match is fastened with a plain square buckle. This in black net, diagonally checked with a mere thread of gold or silver— or it could be as successful in many of the discreetly threaded muslins—is originality itself for dinner wear. But the delightful surprise of the ensemble is that it reveals beneath the most sophisticated of evening gowns, backless, high in front and flared to a train at the hem.