MAINLY FOR WOMEN

Greymouth Evening Star, 29 December 1930, Page 10

MAINLY FOR WOMEN

ITEMS OF INTEREST

(Notes by

Marjorie)

WHEN WIVES SHOP. WHICH IS YOUR HUSBAND? “Husbands?’ Yes. I ought’ to kno.w something about them. Dozens of them are left under my eye every day while their wives are trying on hats and ether bits and pieces inside the shop,” writes “A Commissionaire” In the “Sunday News.” There’s the usual impatient sort, who keeps saying, “You won’t be Jong, will you, my dear?” while his wife is handing him the parcels. As soon as she’s out of sight he’s all on the jump to catch her coming out.

Ho goes to the swing doors and looks through. getting his nose bumped by everyone who comes out. Then he starts asking me how many exits there are, and when I say twenty he wonders if his old lady has used any of the other nineteen. Then he goes inside the shop to lock for her, but sees something and rushes out. Then he buys a paper and can’t read it for holding the parcels. Then he twiddles his stick and drops it, and half a dozen people fall over him while he’s picking it up. Then he goes off to have a look at the other nineteen doors, and comes back and says did I see his wife jfchile he was gone? Then there’s the sporty man. As soon as his lady is safe inside the shop he nips off and has a refresher. Then he comes back and gazes in the windows, picking out the pretties. After that he watc-’es the crowd going by, with , a speck.. eye for anything young and- snappy. His wife usually comes out fairly soon —she probably knows he not safe for more than ten minutes.

A lot of husbands are just the tamed variety. They take up a spot near the door and wait, looking bored, till they are wanted again. And there’s the explosive kind that waits two minutes, and then gives me a shilling to tell his old lady he’s gone on to the club.

Then there’s the talkative husband. Wants my opinion about buildings, and beer, and Bolsheviks, and whatnot. When he’s about I always pray for plenty of taxis so as I can have something to do to dodge him. If there’s one thing that riles me it’s people who come asking me questions.

“BUDS” IN AMERICA. The American debutante, or “bud,” is one of the most finished products of civilisation. She is probably far less crude than the young girls of most other countries, because she has ‘always been accustomed to travel, and ihas most likely spent the last year or two in acquiring a final polish at some European finishing school. Florence, by the way, seems to be outbidding Paris in popularity as a centre for imbibing Art and Culture, with capital letters. Some of the most charming “buds” of recent years have been sent there, instead of to Paris. The ,“bud” who is about to be launched into society chooses her smartest, most becoming afternoon toilette, and, by four o’clock on the day of the reception, is ready to stand with her mother to receive the guests. Usually they stand under a flowered canopy, but sometimes beside the grand piano, which is heaped with floral tributes. A small orchestra is playing in the hall. The guests’ cars begin to arrive, and each driver is given a numbered ticket by the imposing negro who stands at the gate. These cards are taken by another servant as the guests enter. American hostesses insisted upon this formality, because it not only prevents gatecrashing, but also allows them to draw up correct lists of “those present” for tho papers. The guests arc ushered upstairs to remove their wraps, and tj inspect the girl’s presents, which are usually laid out in her own beautifully decorated room. Then they descend, file past to shake hands with the hostess am! her daughter, and finally drift towards the bouffet where a marvellous collection of sandwiches and ice-cream puddings testifies to the extreme importance of the food question in American entertaining. Afterwards; the guests, -who mostly consist of middle-aged friends of the girl’s parents, begin to dwindle away. Th'ere is a respite for the house-party—just time for a change of frocks and a ’ hasty meal. Then comes the dance for her own particular “set,” and yet another “bud” is launched into the ‘social world.

HOAX ON TITLED LADY. MANY UNORDERED GOODS. An unknown man, by a series of telephone calls, recently hoaxed a number of West End business firms into sending representatives and goods to the house of the Marchioness of Huntly, in Grosvenor Square. The door bell rang at 10.30 a.m. Within a few minutes it had rung several times, announcing the arrival of the representatives of a well-known firm of jewellers, a firm of dress designers, a shoe-maker, a beauty specialist, and others. In motor-cars the representatives brought with them jewels, dresses, coats, shoes, creams and lotions. ■■ ■ There was dismay among the gathering when they were informed that the Marchioness knew nothing about it; that she had not asked them to call. They returned to their business houses taidng the unwanted articles with them. “It is all too stupid,” said the Marchioness. “Two of the firms know me very well, and, of course, they sent along immediately. I cannot think why anyone should do such a thing These people said that they had been instructed by my secretary. A representative of the dress designers said: “The whole thing was quite evidently done for a ‘joke.’-A man’s voice that spoke to us on the telephone requested that frocks and other goods should be sent to the Marchioness’s house.”

POSTAGE STAMP HATS. Who can account for the Jagaries of fashion? (writes “Pandora” in the London “Sunday Times”). Not I for one, hut that does not prevent my expressing mild amazement over the latest method of wearing one of the small hats which are mere apologies for hats. Can anyone explain why. at the very time of the year when one wants some covering for the head, if only to escape neuralgia, we should be expected to wear tiny l.ttle caps which stick on by a miracle and look as if they were sliding off into the void? Wc have worn hats which we jammed down on our heads, we have , !<cd our hats over first one eye and then the other, and a previous generation was smartest in hats which perched precariously on an erection of hair and pads, but these slippery little dabs seem the most bewildering efforts on the part of the fashion-mon-gers. Only the very young and pretty who look young and pretty in anything, are bearable in these affairs. As you look at a woman who has reached an age when she gazes, with distaste on advertisements of “hats for matrons” and wonders why the shape she wore a few years ago no longer suits her, with her forehead and the front of her head exposed to the bleak light of day, you feel there is something to be said for sumptuary laws or for the wearing of a uniform after a certain age. Only we should never believe that we ourselves had reached that particular age. WORLD’S “RICHEST BABY.” NOW A MARRIED MAN. The marriage was recently announced of Mr John Nicholas Brown, of Providence, Rhode Island, United States, who was once known as “the richest baby in the world.” He inherited- £5,000,000 when he came of age. . K Mr Brown’s bride was Miss Anae Seddon Kinsolving, a member of a well-known Virginian family tracing its descent from settlers who went to the Southern States of America before the War of Independence. The bride has worked for two years as a reporter on a Baltimore newspaper. They will spend a year s honeymoon in Europe. Mr Brown, who was delicate from birth was always closely guarded by detectives in his childhood. Even his playground was fenced with barbed wire. His fortune, which was recently estimated at more than £60,000,000, was founded by his grandfather, a textile magnate. Brown University, at Providence, Rhode Island, was founded by his family. WOMAN-HATER’S CLUB. CHALLENGE FROM GIRLS. The woman-haters of Ashington, Northumberland, who hXve formed themselves into a bachelor’s club, are to be boycotted by the girls. The decision to carry out this “boycut.” as one young blonde put it, has followed the refusal of the club to grant an interview to three of Ashington’s most attractive girls who wish to put to the committee these questions:— Have your love affairs proved failures?

How many among you can say that you kept every appointment with your iady friends? Do you profess to regard your love affairs seriously and then joke about them to your chums? The girls so far have not been able to come to grips with the men, but they hint darkly that there are such things as spinsters’ clubs. “If they do not intend to take any risk, as they say, neither do we,” de olared cue indignant damsel of the delegation. “There is not one among twenty of these disgruntled young men who has tho will-power to resist women. Clearly, such men are dangerous, and ought to be'left severely alone.”

“We will teach them a lesson yet,” the girl added. Ashington’s bachelor club, she predicted, will be disbanded within three months. A broken love romance is the cause of the upheaval. Saddened and disillusioned, a disappointed swain vowed to bypass all women. His resolution reached the ears of others whose love attachments had also proved unsuc cessful, and in less time than a woman takes to change her mind, 24 had pledged themselves to renounce feminine companionship. The club is now” soundly established. Officers have been appointed, a covenant drawn up, and fines agreed to, to suit all kinds of contraventions. The next move is with the girls.