A LETTER FROM HOME.

Otago Witness, Issue 3995, 7 October 1930, Page 60

A LETTER FROM HOME.

B y

A Wanderer.

(Special for the Otago Witness.)

Vanity Street.

LONDON, August 14. Stephanie has given us what she calls a “ table-bell ” effect in black lace for evening. I don’t know whether it is the objective of any smart women to look like a table bell, but if it is, here is the opportunity. You will observe that the skirt is fairly close-clinging until it gets past the knees, and then it flutes out in the bell shape. The bodice is comparatively plain, and there is a detachable little fur-trimmed cape which gives a quaint note to the ensemble. They say that there is a new autumn line launched at the Paris fashion parades. I’ve never known any season which did not officially have its new line, even though we clung to the old one in actual fact; but I must admit that I think there is something in the rumour of a new shape for us within the next month or so—at least, so far as evening gowns are concerned. Spiral and Russian basque effects over an ordinarily slim line are coming back again; and that seems to indicate the tunic. Then we have what an expert contemporary of mine has aptly described as a mediaeval skirt length: by which she means that elegant length that touches the floor all round and trails a bit more at the back—tiny feet (or what should be tiny feet) peeping from under the voluminous folds. It would be a very ungraceful woman who would not look m ell in such a skirt; but, at the same time, they work out expensively by reason of their floor sweeping propensities. When last women wore trains, for instance, they did not rush off after dinner in order to witness a boxing match and trail their skirts (as did

some very fashionable ladies a week or so ago) over damp grass. Let me, however, leave these problems for a moment_and recommend to you to

A table-bell effect in black lacc for evening. The skirt is fairly close-clinging until it gets past the knees, when it Hutes out into bell-shape. There is a cute little detachable fur-trimmed cape.

adopt a hat such as that sketched here before the time for it passes. The model is made of the fashionable stitched fabric and is in mauve Shantung, the stitching

A fashionable model in stitched fabric. In this case it is in mauve shantung, the stitching being of coarse white thread. A thin wire can be used to retain the shape of this most becoming hat.

being of coarse white thread. Anything more becoming it is impossible to imagine. A thin and invisible wire can be used to keep the shape of the brim, if necessary; but this is a matter for the milliner, and I only mention the point in case you should wonder.

Reflections.

I used the word mediaeval a little while ago; and it seems that we are to have a run on it, for not only do we learn, that sleeves akin to those patronised by Henry V and lll—as a well-known comedian used to say, when referring to that much-married monarch—are coming back again, but we are told that Henry II styles also will be popular, perhaps. Personally I cannot imagine that wo shall receive with enthusiasm the suggestion of a return to the bloused or “ Beef-eater ” sleeves, but there it is. I give the prediction for what it is worth. And then, all of a piece, as it were, wo are assured that our brows will be loftier, as in the good old days, when a noble, shining forehead was “ the thing.” For quite a while, as you know, those hard little felt hats have decreed that our burnished tresses should be pushed out of sight, but we had the satisfaction of knowing that the hair was there, just the same. Now, apparently, the hair must definitely not be there! And if you want to get rid of it, and so make yourself into a highbrow in the physical if not intellectual sense, kind' people recommend that you should put oil of walnuts on before going to rest. I particularly stress the kind people who recommend the oil of walnuts, because this concoction (which, I take it, is entirely unconnected with the walnut juice which is used as a stain in amateur theatricals) seems to me to be far preferable to other suggestions emanating from less considerate people, such hints including vitriol and quicklime for the removal of superflous hairs. As one “ anti ” said: “In the shade of a cunning brim, one’s eyes can look like stars; whereas straining from under a hairless expanse, they will look like gooseberries.” Carried unanimously. 1* That So?

This week I had occasion to dash down to Birmingham—the place where, it seems to me, nearly all the best theatrical shows are tried out. (I expect I shall have Manchester, Glasgow and Southhampton down on me, but I’ll chance it.) I should not have been human if I had resisted the temptation to drop in and see Tallulah Bankhead in the course of her first week in “Let Us Be Gay!’’ which is to go on to the Lyric Theatre, London —because it gives one such a nice feeling to be able to say on a London “ first night ” that one has seen the show before, y’know! Tallulah’s new play is by an American woman, and, I gather, it was a great success over

in the States. What it does in London you will probably know as well as I do by the time you receive these lines. The plot is what we call slight; but our national theatrical heroine burbles, gurgles, coughs, laughs and gasps her way through with that breathless speed which has made her- famous, and it seemed to me that “ fallulah-itis ” is as prevalent in Birmingham as in London. I noticed that the popular actress had succumbed to the temptation to startgrowing her tresses again, in fact, she had quite a neat little bun. In a way 1 am sorry for this, because I have always considered her rather-long shingle amounting almost to a bob as part of what I perhaps may be permitted to describe as her wild charm. Also she wore a frock right down to her toes which made her look very tiny. I prefer Tallulah, on the whole, with her very abbreviated skirts and short hair which flops when she cries or laughs. One theatrical matter leading to another, some time ago I believe I told-you that the whole of one scene in a musical comedy was devoted to the wordless display of about a score of wonderful toilettes arriving at a ball—or, rather, ladies in wonderful toilettes arriving. Now I find that in the revue, “ Chariot’s Masquerade,” which is due in London the first week in September, there is to be an honest-to-goodness mannequin parade of marvellous dresses designed by the famous photographer, Cecil Beaton, whose sister, Nancy, was presented, at a recent "Court, she being one of our beautiful bright young things. Not caring about mannequin parades, I don’t know that this pleases me, but I expect everything will be so brilliant that I shall succumb and apologise. The Street of Adventure.

I don’t know whether it will appeal to you as it did to me, but if you have, from time to time, appreciated “ Peeps at Politicians ” as disclosed by Miss Ellen Wilkinson, M.P., in the form of newspaper articles written in her trenchant style, you will want the volume of reprints which is issued for the trifling sum of 3s Cd. This week, also, I was fascinated by “ Without Cherry Blossom,” by P. Romanoff, a story of Russia to-day which will give you food for thought for many months to come. For a thriller, I recommend “ Drama of Mount Street,’’’ by Hermoine Flatau. Quite apart from what I think of it, Gilbert. Frankau says it kept him awake all night.

Try This. A simple and inexpensive sweet which will please nursery folk—and others.

Arrange some sponge cakes in the bottom of a dish, cover them with hot jelly. When the jelly has set, cut the cakes, plus the jelly, into their original squares. Open a tin of sliced or ordinary apricots and place a piece of the fruit on each square. On top of the fruit put a little dab of clotted cream, and you will have a most delicious concoction.