Both Warm And Fashionable

Manawatu Times, Volume 64, Issue 96, 26 April 1939, Page 14

Both Warm And Fashionable

London Turns To Woollens

At a grand reception the other day I found myself next to one of London’s loveliest “lovelies.” We know each other very well as a matter of fact, having pulled one another’s pig-tails in pre-war days at school, writes Clarissa Lowe from London to the Daily News. She was wearing one of the offshoulder dresses, which always give an escort such pangs of apprehension, and a crinoline which nearly worries him to death.

As we mounted the stairs towards our hostess, I murmured “Looking simply grand to-night.” And she, trying to keep her crinoline from destruction, crooned back, “It’s my woollies that do it.” I didn’t find her again until half way through the evening, but then I pinned her in a comer by the buffet and demanded, “Do you mean to tell me you’re wearing grandma’s flannel petticoat with that dress?”

“No, darling,” she retorted, looking like a mixture of Empress Eugenie and the Lady of the Camellias, “but for grand occasions like this, I wear nice warm woolly ‘undies.’ Did we freeze, standing in that hall, or didn’t we?” It was true. We did. But then the maxim of the 18th century architect was apparently that you cannot be grand and warm at the same time, and even the 20th century has been unable effectively to introduce enough warmth into every

part of the high-ceilinged palaces they built at London—or anywhere else, probaby.

“I’m wearing (1) a strapless wool brassiere-vest, and (2) some nice, wellfitting woolly pants. And I’m coszy,” she ended defiantly. Well, there it is. There are hundreds like her I’ve discovered since. But it wasn’t until recently when the South African wool producers conspired with our wool manufacturers, as I found out, that we got lovely fleecy dressinggowns looking like clouds, undies and nightgowns as soft as silk, and they gave Paris a glimpse of them last month, and London has just seen them. By the way, I have every reason to assert that the Duchess of Gloucester and the Duchess of Kent believe in wool, too. I know fiat the Duchess of Gloucester took out to Kenya on her recent visit some charming pyjamas in pale blue check wool taffetas. And the Duchess of Kent has just bought a couple of wool house dresses—one for herself and one for her sister. They’re in fine flannel in the new three-colour scheme, and, she says with that practical commonsense which is one of her nicest characteristics, she will probably wear hers as an evening coat. And she could. It is made with a fitting top. straight sleeves and a very full skirt. One of the schemes she chose

was rust-colour (this was the top) and black (the skirt). The other was wine and dark blue, and both were equipped with a tremendous cummerbund in pale blue flannel.

It is the kind of thing which could be easily copied in very thin wool or even heavy silk for a warmer climate, and if you like playing about with colours, what a scheme it would give you! I don’t know whether you’ve herd, bv the way, how terrifically elaborate lingerie is becoming. Saleswomen offer you a magnificent nightdress with a fitting bodice buttoned down the front, full bishop’s sleeves, and a nice billowing skirt shirred at the waist. All the new nighties fit the waist like a glove. Grand, of course, beautiful and even romantic. And yet, I don’t know. I do like a nightgown in which I can wriggle into a comfortable position while I work my shoulders into the right place under the pillow. I have a conviction that these “full-dress” garments would split in all directions if I so much as twitched an eyebrow in them.

But I’m probably old-fashioned. I’m probably the type of woman who, if I’d lived in the nineteenth century, would have clung to my four petticoats and my crinoline long after all my friends had adopted three and a bustle. If you dote on pyjamas, it’s new to have the ends of your trousers tucked into bands round the ankles. This gives you a pleasant “favourite of the harem” feeling and, at the same time, prevents draughts. I would plump for it on the second excuse alone. It is intended for travelling. You can have any number of variations of the “dress nightgown” I first mentioned. With a lace bolero jacket added, or with a draped front. And those new fitted house dresses can be worn as dressing gowns as well. One of the most attractive I’ve ever seen had a Tudor-ish ruff, fitted bodice and wide shoulders as well as a full skirt. It would make a woman look extraordinarily capable, that gown. Good. 11 think, for a bride who wasn’t sure of her housekeeping abilities and wanted to impress her husband. When anything went wrong, she could always divert the storm by re-appearing in a feminine affair of the finest lacey woo] say in blue, lined with rose pink satin. This, combined with fluttering eyelashes, would convince the bemused young man that after all, it probably wasn’t her fault.