PARIS NOTIONS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIV, Issue 19676, 30 June 1927, Page 5

PARIS NOTIONS.

Isn't it amusing to find that, just as Paris hits decided that wo are to let. our hair grow much longer and wear it all waved and curly at the back, there should also be a perfect passion for the hat which conceals every vestige of hail ? Whether for evening, when turbans and bandeaux of every conceivable kind are permissible, or for day wear, your face nlust be framed in material and not in the halo nature intended to give you. Some of the ear flaps attached to the "tailored" hats of Paris at the moment are so long that quite a small band would turn thein into chin-straps. But a change is coming. It is truo that foreheads will still be concealed, but soon it will be onlv a fringe, straight or curly, or a tiny embroidered veil that will hide it. Hats are to be thrust backwards when summer comes The buttonhole of the moment is a simply enormous bunch of pale parma or double white violets. The smartest women are wearing them, however, one in the day time of white in a tailored coat, and two, one of each colour, on an evening frock. The other buttonhole craze is for tiny flowersi with very long realistic stems instead of the stem twisted into silver paper. The craze for wearing a dozen or so bracelets over the long sleeves of an afternoon frock has evolved a new fashion for metal gauntlets. One recently worn was at least Bin. wide of thin gold, pierced and chased into filigree work; it looked odd, but -effective. Trellis bracelets of fine silver wire threaded with small coral beads were seen in a shop in the Rue St. Honore last week and were, I was told, being bought by many women. ' The telephone doll is a commonplace but the newest doll, with vacuous face and long painted slippers on its feet, conceals a box of matches in its body. The body, you see, is made of two strips of corded ribbon open at the side; in this the matches are slipped and the doll is hung by the side of the fireplace or writ-ing-table or pinned with a large gold safety pin on the arm of a Chesterfield.