CHANGED TIMES

Evening Star, Issue 21320, 26 January 1933, Page 5

CHANGED TIMES

NIGHT LIFE WANES AGE OF BAD TASTE OVER The age of bad taste is over. It died officially at a luncheon party of a famous hostess about two years ago, when she consigned to the flames a book with illusti’ations and descriptions of contemporary beauties. Subsequently the hostess made the historic pronouncement : “ The book was such bad taste—so 1924!” From the moment when that pebble was cast into the waters of contemporary social history the ripples conveyed the news from the West End to the furthermost suburbs that it was no longer smart to be uncivilised (writes Lord Donegal I, in the ‘ Daily Mail ’). However, the fact that had manners, had taste, and disregard for conventions had ceased to be “ the thing ” was brought home to a wider public by the production, as a play, of Evelyn Waugh’s novel, ‘ Vile Bodies.’ I remember when the book first came out thinking what a perfect picture it was of the “ bright young people.” One has to admit it, I thought to myself, frightful as are the characters in this book, they just are us. Parties every night—Wild West parties, baby parties, Victorian, Greek, Russian, and Mozart parties. Who cared about invitations? A party was a party, and one went. Having got there, most people behaved as they certainly would not nave done in their own houses—that is, if they respected their own furniture and carpets. I was one of the organisers of a “ Wild West ” party with 800 guests. We knew our guests, and tleared out every carpet and stick of furniture in the house before the party I Ovr 200 gate-crashers were turned away that night; they mostly departed convinced that they had been harshly treated. TOO LATE. But when ‘ Vile Bodies ’ appeared this year as a play its characters had already become history. Their remarks dated and their inconsequential attitude toward life merely induced the question: “ Can we have been as awful as all that?” Would a peer’s daughter lead a pony up the stairs at a party nowadays? The thing is unthinkable, but I actually saw it happen during the age of bad taste. What have been the effects of this tendency to readmit the existence of the conventions? It has certainly not meant a return to the formality of Edwardian days. Leaving visiting a rds, for instance, after being entertained can rarely be indulged in without ridicule. It is not_ that kind of manners that the “ ’thirties ” have brought back into favour. The tendencies can best be seen by comparing the night life of London as it is to-day with that of six or seven years ago. Formerly an evening out was a nebulous thing to a young person. It was this very quality which caused so much friction between mothers and daughters. Dear Rosamund, second-year debutante, would be going to a dance approved by her mother. Nothing would induce Rosamund to say what she proposed to do when she was tired of the dance. The reason for this was that Rosamund had not the remotest idea. Her evening was dictated by a favourite young man who would meet her'at the dance, and whisper the pass-word of the period : “ Let’s go on somewhere ! ” That meant one of a number of drink-till-four night clubs of the period. Sometimes it was one of the aforementioned “freak” parties, and in that case mother had to put up with the 6 o’clock homecoming of Rosamund. INFORMAL DRESS. , As for the young men, they put on “ tails ” automatically to be ready for all emergencies. At all costs, we had to go out. The insane fear of having to spend an evening at home is dead alike in both sexes. The “ let’s-go-out-not-dressed ” mentality is growing noticeably among even the leaders of the fashionable world, and one has only to look at the balconies of London’s smartest restaurants and clubs to see hundreds of couples and parties of four who formerly would ratner have died than have been seen out “ not dressed.” This has not affected restaurant trade. A party in a restaurant balcony costs very little less than on© at a table on the dance-room floor. Some restaurants even provide a dance floor in the balcony for their “not dressed ” patrons. So, whereas formerly we dressed automatically, and went out in search of gaiety, the gilt has had a ppst-war decade in which to wear off the gingerbread, and now, if we are going to put on “tails,” we like to know the reason why. Perhaps in some ways London’s night life is taking after that of Paris. There used to be places where a smart young man would not go in a dinner jacket. I have known many young men who went out who did not possess one. Certain it is that, in the last two years, many a dinner jacket has been unearthed from the limbo of the bottom drawer. It has always had certain protagonists. Several well-known men faced a “ tails ’’-wearing generation in black ties and white waistcoats. Now they are coming into their own again. In Paris, of course, “ tails ” are exceptional in public places of amusement, and I should not be surprised to see them outnumbered by dinner jackets in London within a year or two. DANCING TO-DAY. It is nonsense to contend that dancing is as popular as ever. People are fond of pointing to a crowded dance and basing their argument on the sardines that they see writhing round it. They forget that the dance floor of a restaurant is elastic. Its area varies not in proportion to the number of clients who wish to dance, but in ratio to the number of people who wish to sit. The more or these there are the more tables a restaurateur will push on to the dance floor. They and not the dancers are the people who make the bill mount up. 1, for one, and I think the majority of young men, would be sorry to see an extension of licensing hours in restaurants catering for night life. In the old days of mushroom night clubs it was practically impossible to get to bed before 4 o’clock in th© morning. A supper party at a restaurant always “went on” to the latest legal night club—yes, even the “ best ” people did —and a young man who had to be in his office at 9 the next morning felt awkward about leaving and making the numbers uneven. The girls, in the full knowledge that they would be able to sleep it off, were quite merciless. Irksome as it may bo—and I admit that it is sometimes infuriating— to have a perfectly good glass of wine removed at 12.30 a.m., the young men of London have to thank Lord Byng for saving them countless headaches. Fn sum, we are getting back in night life, as in modes and manners, to normality. The post-war orgy of carrying everything to excess, whether in unccaventionality, staying up late, enjoyment, vagueness, scanty dross, infantilism (th© mania for youth-preserva-

tion), or vulgar display, is over. I Night li'is lias been for all too long j a harrying obsession with the West | End, driving its victims in every direc- ( tion except home. We should welcome the new mentality. People now go out because they want to do so, and, not because the devil of restlessness drives them. •