A LETTER FROM LONDON.

Southland Times, Issue 19555, 20 May 1925, Page 10

A LETTER FROM LONDON.

(From a Lady Correspondent). LONDON, March 26. At long last the world acknowledges that England is capable of designing fashions for others besides low con ans. For years the mere mention c< nah clothes drew giggles from the rest oi “Europe who, by way of commentary, drew pictures of ladies wearing minute hats perched on immense chignons, tight waists, dipping skirts, flat-heeled button-boots and often nez, prominent teeth and ill-rolled umbrellas. We have changed all that, and now the great French designers who come over to show us their creations are graciously pleased to take back a few of our ideas with them. It is only natural, after all, that the French artist should design his models primarily for his own countrymen; even though he adapts them later for America or British clients, the fact remains that a very different type inspired them. Equally naturally, a clever English designer, knowing instinctively our good and bad points, evolves clothes for us accordingly, and, as more people realise this every season, so the British expert has come to the fore. We do not say enough of our English fashion artists and their influences. Was it nothing that Lucile revolutionised the evening gown by introducing soft transparent materials and originating lovely things from chiffons and ethereal fabrics, thereby pointing out our salvation and avocation for these materials, to which we have kept them ever since? There are English houses in Paris to-day with as much voice in determining the modes as any Parisian; there are English and French houses amalgamated, and, best of all, English houses here in London such as Machinka in Dover street, where you find delightful evidence of the fact that British brains and fingers can produce cloths as “chic” and beautiful as those of their more articulate friends across the Channel. Having played games, and done our best to make everyone else play them as well, for so many generations, we should understand the right clothes to wear for them and be able to design attractive examples to prove it. What people suffered before woollies came into their own, only those who have survived tramping about in heavy tweeds and stiff shirt blouses can describe. From the happy day on which the idea of knitted clothes as a solution inspired sonie benefactor of mankind, we took to them as ducks to water and have worn them in varied and elaborated forms and at all seasons ever since. From the time these important items of our wardrobe came into prominence, Messrs Debenham and Freebody have made a special feature of them, and that one meets their w'oollies from Katmandhu to Punta Arenas is surely recognition of their merit. Just now we in England are beginning to wonder what fresh attractions are being made ready for the spring and summer, so I chose this house as a fount of information and went along to Wigmore street to inspect models. The charm of these were legion and many new notes quarrelled for highest marks. On the whole, the lines were long. Threequarter coats and tunics over narrow dresses *or wrap-over skirts. A noticeable feature was that many of the suits were so made to a tailor's pattern as at a little distance to appear ordinary tailored coats and skirts; an example of this was a tabac suit of wool with an artificial silk stripe, the coat was slightly shorter than the majority, whilst the collar, cuffs and pockets and edge of the wrap-over skirt were bound with artificial silk. The straight well-defined lines of the whole were extremely pleas- ' ing. Another new note was the extraordinarily effective results obtained by their clipped wool and silk trimmings: prepared in a special way, the threads do not pull out, but remain in close and firm, and the simulation of different furs—beaver, leopard, ermine and astrakan—reveal fresh possibilities which would draw amazed bleats and snorts from the original providers of the raw material. Clipped bouclette is used for the imitation of astrakan and Persian lamb and all these trimmings look particularly well on the types of coat which they adorn. One three-piece suit having bouclette as trimming was seemingly a onecoloured suit, but when the three-quarter coat was thrown open it revealed a straight frock, the body of which was of contrasted artificial silk and wool, giving a brocaded appearance. Tiny buttons ran down the length to above the knees whence the dress was finished with a plain hem to match the coat. In either soft mistletoe-green and silver, or in beige and bracken brown, it would make a welcome addition to any wardrobe. Honeycomb wool was employed for another model having close clipped furseeming wool collar and cuffs; yet another of beige alpaca had a knee-length artificial silk tunic, collared and cuffed with ecru georgette and worn over a plain skirt and under a three-quarter length coat trimmed with bouclette-astrakan to match. Then there were battalions of jumpers in new and old designs. In those “specialities de maison” the hand-embroidered Kashmir and alpaca wool examples of that übiquitous garment, I saw’ many fresh designs and all so soft and easily packed as to be admirable specimens of Travellers’ Joy. To revert to the Continental caricatures of the British: the men were invariably portrayed in check travelling coats and the women in voluminous mackintoshes entirely devoid of shape. We are obliged to plead guilty regarding our fidelity to macintoshes—with a climate such as ours they form a sort of epidermis and their acquisition is second nature, for they are as necessary as are cats’ winter coats. At one time we looked on them simply as necessary evils which inevitably spoilt the effect of the rest of our toilets, but a series of wet Ascots and Goodwoods set our modistes resourceful brains working out some antidote. The most mocking voices of Paris, Brussels, Rome and Budapest could but sink into respectful admiration of the example of the result of this concentration which I saw in Madame Handley-Seymour’s New Bond Street show-rooms the other day. It has all the appearances of a beautifullycut straight black ottoman silk coat with collar and cuffs bound with strips of the same material; yet the silk had been prepared by some process which gave to it the virtues of the ugliest and most dependable mackintosh. Such a garment holds its own in the smartest assembly and enables its owner to face the most sodden enclosure invariably undismayed. The Duchess of Rutland has, at last, been persuaded by her friends to have a public exhibition of her pictures and sculptures. The show will be held at one of the London galleries during the next few weeks, and I can prophesv that it will be extremely interesting despite, and not because of, the fact that the artist is a duchess. One of the founders of the famous “Souls,” the Duchess of Rutland is among the most artistic women in society. She sculpts, paints and is noted for her clever pencil portraits of her friends.

A friend of the Duchess of Rutland once told me that when the latter is making a pencil portrait she invariably sketches in one eye first, before touching the rest of the face. Some of the most successful of these portraits have been executed during week-end visits to country houses. A precious possession of the Duchess of Rutland, by the way, is a portrait of herself as a young girl, signed “V.R. 1877. del from

nature. Balmoral.” Queen Victoria painted it in the year quoted. Among the plays which are likely to be seen in the West-end in the near future is a comedy by the novelist J. D. Beresford. The majority of Beresford’s friends feel that, despite the popularity which his novels have won, he could do much bigger work than he has done. Perhaps the stage will see his powers reach their climax. Another interesting play of the future, I understand, is to- c6me from “Rita,” whose novels had such a tremendous vogue some years ago. I heard that she is turning one of her stories into a play, and that the chief character will be a very human woman.

A man who has just returned from America tells me that “K’hboo” is the latest craze on the other side of the Atlantic, and he assures me that before long it will be a case of “everybody’s playing it” over here. The new r game is another example of the present passion for things African, though whether it has the same antiquity among the African tribes as mah-jongg has in China seems open to question. The name, to the lay ear, certainly suggests a native war cry. So far as I have been able to discover, “K’hboo” is played on a chess table, with carved pieces representing African men and chiefs. There is a question which I am busy asking myself lately—are we becoming “food lazy”? Even to cut up the food after it has been placed upon their plates seems to be too hard a task for some diners-out, and restaurants are constantly adding to the practical examples of “eating made easy.” It is perhaps a good thing that grape fruit is prepared for easy eating before it is served, but is it really necessary for a waiter to take the skin from my salmon and remove the bones? Several waiters in different restaurants lately have wanted to do this to my fish, and when I refuse it is to be met with a look of horror, as if I belonged to a savage tribe. The other evening at a leading West-end restaurant I felt rather as if I were a criminal, after seeing the waiter's expression when I stated a preference for removing the lobster from his shell myself. GLADYS COOPER AGAIN. A couple of years ago, again on a Saturday night, Miss Gladys Cooper once more came before us as a Pinero heroine, “Mrs Tanqueray,” and I well remember the gasp of pleased excitement that arose from the house as Paula’s slim figure, with the hair tightly drawn back from the forehead (something new in the way of hairdressing for Miss Cooper) stepped into Aubrey’s sit-ting-room. But “Iris,” at the Adelphi on Saturday, seems to me a better play than “Mrs Tanqueray,” more fully realised, more logical, less sentimental, and more compassionate. Paula Tanqueray kills herself to make a good curtain. The downfall of the rich, pampered, indeterminate and beautiful Iris is seen from the beginning. Miss Cooper has advanced steadily and relentlessly in the improvement of her art, and we knew in advance that we would get a performance studied and planned and explored with all possible thoroughness, and made fascinating by Miss Cooper’s wonderful beauty. But Miss Cooper in the first act surprised us often, and in the third and fourth acts surprised us continually. Her “Iris” is her best performance up to date. Mr Henry Ainley is a very English actor to be playing Maldonado. Maldonado is an Oriental, and part of his power over Iris and his terror for her lies in this. He is subtle, inexplicable, calculating. Mr Ainley remained English. But he got a great deal out of the last scene by sheer power. I’ve never thoroughly enjoyed myself at a play for ages.

It was amusing to notice the various ways in which last week’s spell of bright, dry weather affected different people. Many women appeared in new spring suits, some men left their overcoats at home, all sorts of folk swarmed into the parks. I myself seized the opportunity of fine weather to take my umbrella to be re-covered, and on reaching the shop I found the umbrella dealer in a very happy state of mind. “There is always a rush in umbrella repairs when we get a few fine days,” he told me. “People continue ‘making do’ with their disorganised ‘gamps’ so long as there is a suspicion of rain about; when the weather gives them opportunity to do without the umbrellas, they are taken to the shop.”

I had never considered carpet selling as a “sun trade” until last week, when I learnt how the first hint of spring in the air affects this branch of business. More carpets are sold in early spring, on bright days, than at any other period of the year. “The buying and selling of carpets is still essentially a man’s business.” one dealer told me. “Women are rarely, if ever, employed to sell carpets; I do not know personally of one woman acting in such capacity. The all-man nature of the trade is partly due to the weight of carpets, which are not easy to move and display, and require special handling; also, customers prefer to buy carpets from men. Incidentally, three out of four carpet buyers are men. Most women who want a new carpet get a man friend to go and buy it.” WOMEN AND POLITICS. Women who are interested in politics will welcome the newly-formed Ladies Imperial Association. In the rooms of the association members may listen to lectures, take part in debates, and political social functions will be an interesting feature, and classes will be held for training speakers, chairmen, canvassers and organisers in election work. The association will be based on strictly democratic lines, providing a meet-ing-ground where women drawn from every sphere in life can meet for friendly informal talks, and the interchange of views of the many topics of moment to us all. Women from the great political world, country members, and women visitors from our dominions and colonies, workers in city offices and shops, will be made equally welcome. The low membership fee of 10/6 a year makes it available to all. The association premises, which consist of twb large charmingly decorated, and comfortably furnished rooms, are open every day, including Sunday. The latest periodicals are provided for members coming in to read and rest, and the soda funtain and excellent buffet, at which “quick lunches” and very good teas are served at “extremely popular” prices, will prove a great attraction, while, if the demand warrants it, suppers will also be served.—What’s that you say? No! I haven’t joined it—yet! The straightness and simplicity of the lines of our clothes of necessity draws attention to the materials of which they are made, and this tremendous importance of fabrics has kept designers and embroiderers working at full pressure. Artificial silk, the possibilities of which hitherto had been unexploited, has leapt into prominence and very beautiful results obtained by experi- 1 menting manufacturers who have discovered that they can feign brocades and tinsels so successfully as to deceive all but professional eyes by its mellow lustre. Liberty’s, whom we all associate with something exceptional in the way of colours and materials, show gorgeous satin-surfaced examples of its development, in all shades from gold to copper, eau-de-nil to emerald,

and azure to imperial purple. A clever illustration of the versatility of this fabric is the reproduction they have made of the soft paisley crepe beloved of our grandmothers and having that same recurring opter satin stripe invariably present in those shawk. Liberty’s now own the Merton Abbey Works, where the hand-printing of their silks is carried on. When they took over they discovered some century-old blocks and these they have brought into use again for their Rani satins and Tyrianprinted silks, for the designs are just what the modistes are telling us to use for the long tunics, jumpers and hot-weather frocks for the coming season. This affection for embroidery and stamping finds a further outlet in bags and pouchettes which, of all gay hues, reveal fresh gadgets and pockets and are either large enough for a suit case or so tiny that they would go into a pocket did our tailors but permit such criminal practices. Aspreys, living up to their reputation for thoroughly understanding these things, offer vanity cases of enamel, ivory, lacquer, jade in flat shapes, tube shapes with tassels, on chains or on cords and of such ingenuity of design and in such infinite variety as to recall the royal gifts of Eastern fairy tales or the novels of Rosita Forbes. For everyday use Vickery’s have some beautiful pouchettes in pleated black figured silk, with or without mounts of silver, marcasite and onyx.

Then there is the portmanteau type of bag secretly so dear to us. These need not be of dimensions large enough to contain their bearers’ evening dresses or a set of conjuring props, although we have a weakness for this size, but Aspreys make them in all kinds of leather and of a size to accommodate note books and things, and yet to remain in proportion with the general scheme of our clothes. These three types are the most popular and they are made in such a diversity of materials as to suit all tastes. With the question of bags, one difficulty always manifests itself, like the Ancient Mariner’s albatross, namely, the acquisition of something to put in the new purses and note-cases —so well pressed looking and yet so pathetically anxious that 1925 shall test, their capacity to its full extent. The three bridesmaids who attended Miss Gertrude Radcliffe at her marriage to Mr Philip Bower, 60th Rifles, at the Brompton Oratory’ the other day, looked so much like brides themselves that it looked like a procession of four brides walking up the aisle! Bride and bridesmaids wore white satin, long-sleeved frocks and white ninon veils, but whereas the bride carried a bouquet of lily-of-the-valley blooms, the bridesmaids had bunches of red tulips tied with silver ribbon. Miss A. Baker, who is painting “The Crucifixion” for a Stepney church, has independent opinions as to the complete personal liberty of the artist engaged on religious works, for she smokes a pipe whilst engaged in her painting. How Sir Christopher ’ Wren would have shuddered! He was very much concerned as to the conduct of the workmen engaged on St. Paul’s Cathedral, and imposed a rule that there should be no swearing or other worldly conduct on the premises. I know an eminent modern artist who has been responsible for some of the beautiful work in Westminster Cathedral, who takes a similar rule in his works. No craftsman may swear, or smoke, or discuss betting or other secular topics while engaged in any ecclesiastical work, and thia artist declares there have been no breaches of the rule.