NO FETES NOW.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume IV, Issue 953, 1 March 1917, Page 4

NO FETES NOW.

The prettiest of French fetes, once the delight of the midinette, passed almost unobserved this year in Paris. St. Cathrine, saddened by the war, bent her head in sorrow, contrary to her custom in times of peace, when for her feast day, all the little niidinettes from the "Maisoirs de Couture" celebrated her birthday. Such a day and such fetes ami frolics, when all the "Maisons" closed their doors at noon, in order that the Patron Saint's admonition to Parisian milliners and dress makers that gaiety should reign, should be observed. That was before the war. Then the girls were permitted to amuse themselves for the whole of the day. Gifts were exchanged, the salesman

bringing his favourite midinette the proverbial box of sweets, and St. Cathrine's disciples must wear orange blossom. Workrooms were turned into play-grounds, and if the secret leaked out, by any chance, that any of the girls had reached the ripe old age of 25 without wearing a wedding ring, woe be it, to her for the rest of the day; she must wear n lace cap as our grandmothers used to wear, trimmed with orange blossoms a.id yellow ribbon presented to her by the house for which she worked. The particular significance of the yellow ribbon is that she is 25, without prospects, and indiscreet enough to acknowledge it.

St. Cathrine rules that all under 25 must wear white flowers, and those weaiing the white make sport of the Cathrines with the caps, and so the Sollicking continues throughout the day.

It was the custom of the Maison Worth for all the girls employed to take part in a play, where in some remame of the "Old Maid" St. Cathrine. figured in an amusing way, and what fun it was to make the dainty little lace caps! Bach house celebrated the day in its own particular way, and the celebrations were not confined to the premises. The gaieties always reached the street where the (lower vendors sold bushels of orange blossoms to anybody who acknowledged to more than 25. The whole world seemed young on St. Cathrine's day, but that was before the war. The commemoration of St. Cathhine's was the prettiest of all the French fetes. A pretty little midinette. who was burying her own bouquet of orange blossom in the Hue de la PaiX, was asked where her St. Cathrine's smiles had flown to this year, and why could she not be lively and gay'.' "Cost la guerre, madame," she replied, and disappeared with her 20 centimes worth of orange blossoms, and the earnest hope that they might prove a "portc bonheure.''