WOMEN AND THE HOME

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17729, 26 December 1925, Page 18 (Supplement)

WOMEN AND THE HOME

OUR PARIS LETTER,

JCFROM PAULINE COURLAXDER) At the beginning* of the season it looked as though there would be little change in our shape; but to-dav, when the models which are really worn by the best dressed Parisiennes are revealed, we present a totally different front, though, on the whole, the same back. This change is worked chiefly through the skirt. The long bodice is still with us; a little more close-fitting than last season, a little higher in the neck, and therefore provided with some means of fastening. But on the whole it is not greatly altered from the slim and eel-like affair of the last season. IMPORTANCE OF THE SKIRT. It is the skirt, and chiefly the hem of the skirt, that is called upon to produce the movement which is the chief characteristic of the new frocks. Pleats gussets, panels, flounces and ruches are .all called in to help widen the hem, while the hips must remain absolutely flat. Here and there one sees a jnodel with a trimmed back. One famous house is once more trying to force the bustle effect on us; this time it is produced by a tulle or taffetas bow or a shaped flounce. But there are eccentricities! More often the back remains flat, while the front billows find waves and flutters. WAVES AND BILLOWS. The wavy effect is obtained by gussets which widen the hem, and are stitched flatly to the bodice. The billowy effect is generally reserved for dance and evening frocks; to obtain it several old friends have returned to favour. The ruche, for instance, the

chiffon or lace flounce, enormous taffetas roses set on a chiffon skirt, all help to give movement, while the upper part of a frock remains sedately flat. VARYING LINES. The uneven hem is once more popular and so is all uneven trimming such as sloping flounces, frills and fringes. As long as one hip is kept flat to prove how really slim the lady is, the other hip may have a little extra bulk put on it—a bow, the long ends of which trail behind and form a slender train—or a lace panel may be attached with a lovely flower on one hip. THE LONG TUNIC. For tunic frocks a plain narrow' underskirt is certainly allowed, but the tunic is now so long that its hem may be counted as the hem of the skirt and on nearly overy model it flares considerably, having either a shaped flounce or a gathered frill, or, perhaps,, gussets of accordion pleated material. A WIDE CHOICE. A pleasant fact about the new fashions is that they allow us more choice of shape and colour than we have had for a long time. The short, straight skirt and straight plain bodice became almost a uniform, and showed up the too thin and too stout woman in a most painful way. To-day we have the choice of several shapes, any of which we may adopt without fear of being out of the fashion. BLACK SHOES AND STOCKINGS. Black shoes and stockings are worn a great deal more often than they have been for some time, and they look most distinguished after the flesh coloured display of the last two seasons. Their return, however, does not mark the return of more substantial footwear. Silk stockings are as filmy as ever, and shoes are so thin soled and soft that one may dance in them at any moment. NEW BUTTONHOLES. Buttonholes are still "right.” Instead of the once übiquitous camelia or carnation, one may now wear a dear little bunch of artificial berries and small leaves, or a tuft of nasturtiums or wall flowers. USES FOR OLD POTATOES. By DORA M. FORD. Old potatoes, which have been baked or boiled, added in the proportion of one-third to the amount of flour, make a welcome addition to home-made bread. They not only increase the nourishment, but make the dough light and spongy. After being measured, the potatoes are mashed through a sieve, and mixed with warm, skim milk, until they are about the consistency of ordinary batter. The \-east (previously creamed with a little sugar and warm water) is then added to the potato batter, and the whole poured into the centre of the flour; then all is mixed up together like ordinary dough. Old potatoes, added to pastry in the same proportions, give the same spongy effect, and a delightfully short taste. Very little water is needed when mixing this kind of pastry, as the potatoes themselves supply a good deal of moisture. The rolling requires care, as the potatoes make the pastry rather brittle. Excellent light scones can be made with cooked potatoes, and enough flour to bind the mixture firmly, so that it can be rolled out. The usual allowance is tw'o ounces of flour to each half pound of potatoes. The potatoes are mashed quite smoothly, and moistened with an ounce of dripping or butter dissolved in a dessertspoonful of warm milk. The flour is then worked in gradually until the paste is firm enough to be rolled, after which it can be made up into the desired shapes, and baked. Old potatoes nfake a useful foundation of sweet or savoury fillings for pies or tarts. For a sweet filling, sugar and butter are added to the mashed potato in the proportion of half and half, with any kind of flavouring, such as vanilla or almond. The grated rind and juice of a lemon is a very popular flavouring. The mixture can be enriched by one or two eggs, though these are not absolutely necessary. For a savoury filling, cheese can replace the sugar, the butter remaining as before, and pepper, salt, herbs, etc., substituted as flavouring ingredients.

SWEET SMELLING CANDLES

In one of the most charming rooms I have seen a great point of interest is the candelabra of old Waterford glass, fitted with candles in pale, clear jade green. Among the medley of rich colourings in cushions and china, these green candles stand out with a delightful effect, and punctuate the wall like so many jewels. , The simple coloured candle is now, however, being superseded by others of more elaborate charms. Some emulate old Chinese carvings in ivory, the figures and pagodas being thrown into relief by the soft pale brown tint that an old ivory Netsukai takes on with

time. Other decorations arc copied from Willow pattern china, and display the familiar junks, trees, bridges and birds, in blue upon a creamy ground. Some, again, display all the wealth of colour that one finds in a bit of old Crown Derby, with patterns copied from characteristic pieces of that rich ware. There are, also, candles faithfully copied from old Worcester china; these are intended for use with candlesticks of that make. Sweet-smelling candles that give off an aroma of joss-sticks, or of the delicious peat of Trish cottage hearths, are novelties in store for the women who appreciate the value of the candle as a means of illumination. Practically any scheme of decoration may be matched in the colours of the candles, while, as to shape, four-sided and hexagonal candles are only two of the many quaint designs. —Mary Lovat.

THE GO-AS-YOU-PLEASE ROOM.

By STELLA HARLEY. There is a certain popular hostess who is the mistress of a veritable Home Beautiful; charming drawing room, distinguished dining room, artistic square hall and delightfully “ individual” sleep apartments, and perfectly appointed kitchen premises. Also and in particular there is a go-as-you-please room in which The Family assembles to pursue its various hobbies and live its varied life. BELOVED OF VISITORS. Visitors behold and admire the House Beautiful in all its artistic details. But when they become intimate enough to be admitted to the go-as-you-please room, the rest of the house is invariably left to its distinguished, solitary state. That one overcrowded room is beloved of visitors who become friends, as it is beloved of the Famib*. Here is a divine disorder, a hectic but stimulating disarray. Here the tongue loosens, the talk flows freely, eyes glisten and hearts expand. There is no furtive glancing round for an ash tray in the middle of an inspired sentence or a burst of laughter or of song. (For of course the Ancient Piano is in the go-as-you-please room). Ash may be flicked into the homely hearth, and if

it falls on the grey drugget there is no flash of the hostess’s e* c. MENUS TO MATCH. Informal evening meals in the go as-you-please room mean menus to match the mise-en-scene. Cottage china. And you_can come in and share the succulent beefsteak pudding. To have savoured delicately, in the austerely perfect dining-room, a sequence of rare and cunning dishes, is to be proportionately charmed by the "country cottage” menus of the go-as-you-please room. To have listened to professional musicians in the thickly carpeted, black oak and powder-blue drawing-room, is to appreciate with special zest the spontaneous performances of friends and family in the go-as-you-please room. Here, in short, is a hostess who has solved to admiration the problem of big and little entertaining. She knows we all love to don our best bibs and tuckers sometimes, and lets us spread ourselves accordingh', from time to time, beneath her hospitable roof. But she knows, too, how much oftener we hunger for just a breath of plain, simple, genuine human companionship without the fag of dressing up to meet our kind. The drawing-room has been electric many a time with wit and epigram. The go-as-you-please room has rung with homelier laughter—and hushed to the comradeship of mated hearts.

THE GIRL WHO HASN’T TIME.

“ Oh, I haven’t time*” how frequently you hear the excuse, not only on the lips of busy women, but on I hose of people whose lives sir© cast iu paths of comparative leisure. It is not the amount of leisure, hut the use you. make of it that counts. PLANNING YOUR LEISURE. That is why many a woman occupied all day in business or profession gets through far more in the way of reading and needlework than the stay-at-home woman whose time is more or less at her own disposal. The reason is not far to seek. The busy woman plans her leisure; she looks ahead and fits her duties into the time at her disposal, instead of frittering it away. Not so her haphazard sister. She will, 101 l over the fir© bemoaning the fact that hosiery does not last for ever; she will piek up her needle and put it down to play with the kitten, or muttering valedictions on all mending, drift away to try over a now “ Oh, I haven’t time to keep up tnv music, ” declares Celia, the young bride, when remonstrated ■with for neglecting the piano. A little less time spent over the paper after breakfast, a brisk round of the shops, instead of a desultory sauntering, and an hour could easily be filched from the day. JUST HABIT. The “haven’t time ” habit is one that grows imperceptibly until its victim becomes not only neglectful of duties which affect other people but of those which have a direct nearing on her own appearance and well-be-ing. “ Oh, I haven’t time to make my own undies,” says Joan when her friend expresses a rather qualified approval of some showy but inferior quality lingerie she has bought at the sale. “ I don’t know how it is T never have a minute for needlework.” TIME FOR PLEASURE. It is characteristic of Joan and her prototypes that they can usuallj' find time for pleasure. It is work that suffers, little everyday duties that more methodical people take in their stride, so to speak. Happily for herself, the girl who *■ hasn’t time ” is of a sanguine temperament and seldom ruffled by her sins of omission. But since they react on other people she can hardly hope to escape reproaches. Probably they will not ruffle her, either. She never has time to listen to disagreeables.

GIRLS WHO ARE DOOMED TO LIFELONG DULLNESS

1 *as sitting with Joyce in the garden tlie other day, when A\ alter came out and joined ns. She said : “ Walter, don’t sit there, right in front of me, where I hare to see you. I’m so deadly tired of the sight of you, darling.” We all laughed, Walter included. He thought she was being funny, but 1 didn’t. I knew from her tone she was speaking the sheer truth. “I am doomed.” she said to me later, “to a life of desperate dullness. You’ve no notion how deadly a marriage like mine can be. I’m only twenty-five and my youth is slipping by. I’m loading tho life of a woman of fovtv, at least.” “But -” I began. “ I know what you’re going to say. Don’t say it. You see. I’ve heard if. all before. You think T don’t appreciate Walter’s excellent qualities, my baby, my comfortable home, security— “ And you’re right; T don’t. I'm too hopelessly bored really to appreciate anything. I’m so bored I want to scream, so bored I’d like to rush away from the house and never come back. “But as long as Walter and I are together, he thinks I should be perfectly happy—-happy and interested as wo were in our honeymoon days. But I’m not. I need the contact of other and different minds to develop my own. I know j do. 1 feel it. “ The world is so wide, but marriage with Walter narrows it down to just two and a few selected neighbours who happend to live near us and whose work and interests are the same as bis. And bis interests are so few ! He doesn’t care for music, art or books, or travel, or anything but games. And lie’s fond of long country walks. We take one every Sunday. They’re the bugbear of my life, those weekly tramps 1 “ I go, but I feel like a martyr : 1 loathe the thought of Sunday because of those walks—and Walter can’t see why. If T won’t go, he thinks I must be ill—so it’s easier to go without any argument. He’s* like that about everything. “ He hates going out at night. 1 had a, new evening dress last Christmas—that’s nearly a year ago—and I’ve only worn it once. “ We never hear any news or meet different types or do anything we didn’t do last year, and we shan’t do next. There are moments I feel I can’t endure my life! “ I suppose, though, you think I’m a beast to talk like this. . . ;” I didn’t think, that. I’ve seen too many clever young girls marrying limited men and suffering afterwards from the depressing effect the constant companionship of a duller mind is really bound to have. On tho other hand, one can’t blame Walter. He is what he is, and that’s all about it. But Joyce married him at twenty, too young to he aware of the danger of marriage devoid of mutual tastes.