INNER LIFE OF A PARISIAN LADY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XVII, Issue 5758, 1 May 1880, Page 7

INNER LIFE OF A PARISIAN LADY.

An hour before you get up your maid 17111 light your fire, and then screen it with a silver framework lined with rose silk, which will temper the heat and give to the whole room a sort of rosy morning light, that warms while it illumines. Then she will bring you on a silver plate warmer your cup of chocolate, hot and foaming, which you will drink from the warmer itself, munching the while your rusks, served on a little gold toast rack, kept hot in its turn by a little live charcoal, sprinkled with vanilla to perfume the air. After you have taken your chocolate you will snooze again for a couple of hours. Then you will put on a deshabille of pink satin lined with swansdown, enveloping the whole body from head to foot. The waistband and the fastening o£ the neck of this garment must be in velvet, so as to be warm to the touch. You may now pass into the bath-room, the atmosphere of which will be kept at an agreeable temperature by little gust£ of rose-scented vapour pumped through an aperture in the wall. The next part of oar subject is a delicate one ; but honi soil qui mal;/ pense. It is now time to draw on the stockings lined with warm flossy silk, long and perfumed, and gartered with Russian sables clasped with cat's-eye stones set in diamonds. The boots are to be lined with swansdown, and trimmed with Russian sables as well. Our precious product of high cultivation is now in her dressing-room. This is to be made comfortable by means of an immense foot-warmer, some two meters square, which is to form a kind of second flooring all about the dressing-table. The blinds may be coloured to represent " the ardent rays of the sun." and the padding to keep out the draught is to be trimmed with natural flowers. This will make the place look and feel like a summer bower in the depth of winter. The maid may now "fumigate the nape of the neck" with a little burnt benzion to make it supple—an exquisite characteristic provision, for without a supple neck how could a French person possibly get through the duties of politeness for the day ? We must not forget the hands. These may be kept warm by holding them in two vessels of enanjel filled with warm water, and shaped like apples— rather in bad taste in this direction, as tending to remind our Parisienne of the frivolity of taste by which her sex fir3t came to grief. The promised advantage of this arrangement is that it gives the hands that attractive rosiness which warmth alone can impart. For the middle of the day the Parisienne simply continues all these precautions by avoiding, as though it were laden with the breath of pestilence, every touch of cold air. The rusks that form her morning meal might be baked in her drawing-room, and the carriage in which she takes her drive is hermetically closed. She may realize winter by seeiug the streetsweepers blowing on their fingers through the windows. It is bedtime, and we are once more in the hands of our guide. He, however, stands discreetly in the background until his interesting patroness has assumed the vetement ordinaire. Ha then comes forward to recommend a second garment—a sort of ulster of white plush, trimmed with ostrich feathers at the neck and wrists— which is to be worn as an overall. Tie night-cap of white satin should be trimmed with feathers of the same bird, and fofr additional warmth a little turtle-dove may be fastened under the left ear. The very hands are to have their night cap—gloves of pink kid, lined with a plush, and fastened by elastic 3 (iu pink cheijille), so as not to check the circulation. The bed is to be heated by the fumes of burnt lime-flower 3 and violets. These agreeable and calming emanations replace advantageously the old-fashioned warming-pan. hnfin, you will drink, just before going to bed, a light creme de Sabaillon, nice and hot, made with two fresh eggs and a small glass of Madeira. By carefully following these directions, one may hope not to suffer too much in the winter time.— La Parisienne.