MARGOT Goes Shopping

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 72, Issue 198, 21 August 1929, Page 8

MARGOT Goes Shopping

Not a freckle will Milady have on her. nose, this summer, if one goes by the shady hats I saw in Paul’s. But to make up for the graceful shadow cast by drooping brims across one’s eyes, there’s the gaiety of colour. I think I liked the lemon-coloured hats best—feather-light bankok and balibuntal straws, some of them so fine that they look like .co, others closewoven and flexible. Rather nice, it would be, to feel that the colour Spring herself favours—looks at her primroses and daffodils—is chosen for crowning glory. But there arc very becoming and demure little affairs in lacquer red, fawn or delicate springtimey green. And it’s wonderful how appealing the right little hat can look, when perched atop of the shingle it always dreamed of meeting. I liked the ornaments, too. A specially nice one was a green arum lily leaf, of cool streaky enamel.

Gladys Moncrieff did her good deed for the day, in tho opinion of one Wanganui music-shop, when she autographed her “Rio Rita” records. The manager at Emmett’s says that people seem more than ever taken by the dreamy music of “When You/ro in .Love, You’ll Waltz,’* when they see 'the magic words “Gladys Moncrieff” scrawled across the records, which are regarded as one of Columbia’s best efforts. “Carolinea Moon” is another of those wistful little waltz refrains which seem to steal into orchestras’ hearts when Spring is trying out the effect of its clear starlight on gardens' which are beginning to wake up and take an interest in life. And it’s rather pleasant, when your feet arc more than ordinarily weary of tramping the King’s Highway in quest of butter and eggs, to pop into this friendly little shop and hear what’s latest and catchiest in the world of music.

Just for one week, the lady who wants her home to look fresh and gay for Springtime’s first call doesn’t have to worry about needles The D.I.C. are making up “loose covers” —cretonnes and shadow tissues, not to mention the more distinguished silk tapestries—free of charge. And the said cretonnes are really lovely. There was one of wallflower brown and golden tints, which I can just see in a big sunshiny sitting-room of the old-fash-ioned and rambling variety. The shadow tissues are lilce their name—all soft, blurred colourings, rather like the reflection of flowers and sunsets in still water. Besides the “loose cover idea” —which is a boon and a blessing when you’ve ancient and woebegone chairs or couches to deal with —shadow tissue curtains are most becoming to your hall. The silk tapestries, which are copied from old wall hanging used when England was young, are for the lor'ly suite of your very best room, or for wall panels in your hall.

Do you play bridge? Well, I’ve discovered the ideal bridge party chocolate. You buy it at the Rialto, and its Jjeauty is that, having no soft centre, it doesn’t squash, or produce sticky fingers. Like many clever things, it comes from France, and there are two flavours, coffee and “plain choco.’’ All done up in silver paper, it should look very nobby on one’s little sweet-dishes.

Of course, if Madame has an. olive skin and dark hair—or if she’s one of those ethereal blondes—there will be no two ways about it. She ’ll choose lemon for her new season’s frock. Well, in Lucille Ward’s window just now, there’s a jumper suit of lemon chen,ille which the most exacting Parisienne would have to pass as “tres chic.” But if yellow makes you look all colours except the right one, try brown. Of cinnamon brown and scarlet knitted silk is a second little jumper suit, the scarlet woven, across its waistband in a futuristic sort of design. Moire satin, with reverse facings, makes a slim and debonairc summer coat of nigger brown, and rust-brown lace is used in a graceful ensemble. Of course, as the poet says “Bliss is it in this dawn to be alive, but to be slim is very Heaven”; still, there are most effective and Frenchy frocks for the lass who can no longer so easily touch her toes.

AU August’s sweetness and gaiety—daphne, fragrant purple masses of violets, even a few primroses—nod to the passer-by from the windows of a little blossom-shop which always seems attractive Walker’s Floral Studios. And when you walk inside, you find that other things besides the brightening up of bouquets go on here. There are big bundles of raffia, which, be it known, has as many novel and fashionable shades as even our hats can boast Some of it’s made up, in the studio itself, to quaint little brooches, posies and “sunshine-bags,” but more is sold just as it is, and small people are tremendously proud of tho gay baskets and mats which they can fashion from the coloured strands. Perhaps, if it weren’t for this gaiety of hue, raffia might have gone out, like wool posies and suchlike birds of passage. Biff the cry of the world is for colour, and a really bright note isn’t going to find itself left out in the cold.

If you love china, please look at the deep crimson and purple beauty of the Doulton rouge flambe are showing just now at Craig’s. It has strange patterns—wild birds beating their wings through stormy sunsets, and fish gliding among green sponge trees. Each piece is unique, and each has its own loveliness. Nobody is quite practical about china. But coffee-drinking’s mundane enough, though the tiny blue and gold cups of one set would certainly give it an air. Then there are crystal jars, vases and candlesticks, all a-sparkle like diamonds, or translucent like big soapbubbles. I think most of us are china lovers at heart.

The little curtain of one cubicle blew aside—and there, tucked up in her leather chair, was the lass whose hair wouldn’t curl. As she herself complained, it was all right if one’s hair was merely straight, but very grievous if it was also straggly. So apparently she’s taken the plunge deep into the Permanent Wave. “The Eugene wave is the one we use here,” said Mrs Bond, who manages a very attractive little beauty parlour on the Avenue. “It’s generated by electricity, but works by steam, so the hair (doesn’t frizz or get dry and brittle.” And by and by the lass with the straight hair—as was—emerged, looking very pleased with herself and taking an unreasonble time to put on her

hat. The waves really did nestle—little soft ones, with glints and stray curls in them. “I’m going straight out to find and win. a beauty competition” declared the waved one.

Is Lady Luck still a person of importance? Most decidedly so, says Mr Drew, whose jewellery shop on the Avenue necessitates some knowledge of the good fortune that may attach to stones

The diamond —solitaire, in square or open clusters, or with small stones set in platinum on the shank of the ring—is still the most popular stone when one decides to get engaged. And it means innocence. Second favourite is the emerald, significant of happiness, and tho ruby, whoso message is love, conies third. So curious are people as to jewel-meanings that Mr Drew keeps uncut stones for “birthday rings,” and frequently somebody will decide on the gift of a stone which promises luck to its wearer. By the way, just the thing for the young married woman is the silver-plated teapot which Drew’s gives away free with every engagement ring. (Published by Arrangement.)