MISS SCHOOLGIRL, 1926.

Thames Star, Volume LIX, Issue 16799, 29 May 1926, Page 7

MISS SCHOOLGIRL, 1926.

HER CHEERFUL SACRIFICE. Schoolgirls and chocolates were once inseparably associated in the mind of the most” casual observer. But the young person who has set herself vastly different standards since the munching and crunching days would sooner spend her pocket-money on a shingle. A really chic hair cut at a good barber’s affords her more joy than the most expensive and succulent product in the most “arty” box. The manicurist is more popular than the tuck-shop merchant; and a continuously varying supply of crepe-de-chine handkies takes easy precedence in her affections over the most toothsome marrons glaces or petits fours. Boarding-school competition grows more and more acute. After the holidays there are exciting dormitory inspections of new sartorial acquisitions, from jumper-suits to lingerie; and m the upper forms the rival merits of face-powders and complexion creams are discussed with a seriousness rarely accorded to Latin verbs. Susie’s bulging home-packed tuck-box has nothing like the allure of Maisie’s newest perfume, with spray, wheedled out of som§ misguided Christmas - present - showering aunt. In my capacity of surveillante at a French boarding-school I have just been listening to a typical conversation: “Thanks, no, cherie! I won’t have a toffee. My dentist has warned me that I must be careful.” “But your teeth are so strong and white! Do try just one caramel. Mother made them herself.” But Marie-Therese is adamant, though regretful, for Louise is her bosom chum. “Chee Lulu, I really daren’t. Teeth are such an asset, you know; the most important feature after one’s eyes, don’t you think?”

There are tremendous discussions, too, as to the relative skill and style of the two confeurs “hi town” whom the girls patronise. There is the “Monsieur Jacques” set and the “Leblanc et Cie” contingent. A difference of a few centimes in the price charged by the'* latter experts lends the right aura. To patronise M. Jacques is a confession of parsimony or a slender purse, either of which excludes Mademoiselle from the super-elite. Young snobs, every one of them, in this good Republic of la belle France! Sometimes the heart of the surveillante yearns for the chocolate-munchers who went to sleep with “Little Women” or “The Heir of Redclyffe” under their pillows, even though she had sometimes to get up in the night to apply oil of cloves to an overworked molar!

An English tourist, while “doing” the Waikato recently, was surprised and disgusted to notice so many Maori women enjoying their pipes. On his return to Auckland he mentioned the matter to an old colonist, remarking that it was a .sure sign of the degeneracy of the Maori race when their women smoked pipes. Said the Mew Zealander: “Well, if that is so, the Irish women of the working class must have been degenerating for a good while, because I remember seeing them smoking clays in Dublin when I was a b *y ” The tourist said no more. There is nothing wrong with pipe smoking for man or woman, so long as the right tobacco is used. Choose a brand as free from nicotine as you can. That’s all. Our New Zealand-grown tobaccos contain only a trifling percentage of nicotine, and you can’t beat them for flavour and aroma. You can smoke them for hours and they won’t do you any harm. Ask for “Riverhead Gold,” mild; “Navy Cut” (Bulldog), medium; or “Cut Plug No. 10” ((Bullhead), full strength.— (Advt.)