SYDNEY GOSSIP.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VI, Issue 30, 26 July 1890, Page 12

SYDNEY GOSSIP.

Dear Bee, July 12. Cornstalk feminity (which, alas! for Society spinsters figures as the doubly better half) in the very physiognomy of a whole avalanche of gay doings, is languishing over a great calamity, nothing more or less than the seizure of that most courted of damsels, ‘ Fashion,’ with the epidemic change. The root of this evil was the arrival of two English grande# dames, who with their possessions, including husbands, invaded our shores in a recent P. and O. steamer. The quaint frocks, to say nothing of a host of other novelties gracing these aristocratic new chums, have quite put our selt-conceit in our dainty winter gowns out of joint. M e are all behind the age, henceour transformation into modern Niobes, with sour looks substituted for weeps. First and foiemost, the duet of members of the London fashionable world eschew the nineteen-inch waist, of whose possession our girls are so proud; the tumour-shaped shoulders are also discarded, and since their arrival they have not been known to wear an artificial Hower garden on their pretty heads. That finishing touch we have up till now regarded as the subtle stamp style. ‘ How have the mighty fallen !’ The younger of the distinguished strangers at the (lovemment House Reception wore an Oxford blue costume, the skirt aggravatingly simple in design, made peifectlv plain in the front and at the sides, with a straight full back. So much did not distress us, we had done likewise in our attire; the difference lay only in the natural waist of the golden-haired girl. She is nothing more. But now comes the bone of contention. The front was quite five inches shorter than the back, and beneath peeped a superbly embroidered petticoat carried out in an intricate design in silver and gold thread. The basque, fitting like a glove (excluding the cheap and nasty), had a V vest, collar and cuffs embroidered in the same style as the jupe. The head gear was a something made of tiny wings standing up all round, for all the world like a nest in shape, and as if to further the delusion two birds who hail escajied dissection perched

on the top. The gloves, of dark blue kid, boasted only of two modest buttons, whilst the lady’s parasol had scarcely any length of handle. It reminded me of the dwarfed wraith of the dear (not yet in our world) defunct husband-beater, so tiny and painfully fragile was it. Number two of the fashionable agitators Sad a similarly built frock of terracotta cloth with a rough knobby surface over a black velvet petticoat embroidered with dull silver. Her head covering was a regular plague of butterflies hovering in an uneven mass, natural enough, with pretty plumage, and very becoming to their handsome wearer, yet nevertheless an eyesore to fashionable Sydney as a novel-mine not sprung by them. I quite pity the poor weary and heavy-laden milliners and costumiers (we have no dressmakers nowadays). Their sanctums are bein<>fairly besieged with those who will not be denied. At the same reception Lady Halle wore heliotrope cashmere, the plainly-draped skirt showing an underskirt of violet velvet. The full bodice had zouave front of velvet, and long velvet cuffs finished the full sleeves. The Mayoress, who was hostess, wore an indescribably beautiful dress. The skirt ending in a picturesque sweep train, was of straw-coloured or deep cream silk, woven through with threads of pale pink and faint art green. Over the costly foundation were scattered, as though carelessly thrown there by some childish hand, great roses, repeating the delicate tones of the thread. Over the front hung a tablier of cream silk net embroidered with green and pink transparent beads. The bonnet was composed of crushed roses and faded foliage. It is not often that our Cathedral is thrown open to Hymen, so that when a marriage is celebrated at St. Andrew’s it is well worthy of note as an intensely smart ceremonial. The wedding on Thursday, which had been the cause of quite a flutter in Society for some time, was no exception to the golden rule. The bride, Miss Yeend (who bestowed her fair hand for better or for woi se on Mr Hamilton, of the firm of Sky and Hamilton, George-street), was in a superb train of iris-coloured silk, embroidered in a design of lilies in a deeper shade, opening over a petticoat of amethyst velvet. The same rich material composed the corsage, which was draped with embroidered silk. The bridesmaids wore cream crepe de chine and felt hats, the crowns strangled with ostrich feathers. The trousseau, at which I had a peep, was a regular collection of bright temptations. One charming terracotta gown, tossed up with a plainly draped skirt, which was beautifully braided in front and full at the back, had a bodice fastening at the back, made full over the bust, and finished with a braided Swiss belt, without which adjunct a fashionable woman of to day is regarded as peculiar. A dragon-green cashmere, embroidered in a darker shade down the front with velvet lapels and hand-painted Swiss belt, I thought quite sufficient cause to make the verdant hue of envy rise in anv susceptible female heart.

Quite a number of Auckland people have flashed across my vision since my last interesting budget. Among them I may enumerate Mrs Grierson and Mis Ruck, whom I am told are paying a pleasure visit to Sydney. Auckland must be a land of pretty girls, if it is anything. The samples we have seen in Society speak volumes for ‘ your fair faces. ’ A young daughter of Mr Lusk is spoken of as one of the future belles of the Cornstalk capital. Miss Greenwood, in whose professional career you are of course highly interested, has taken another upward step on the Thespian ladder, and is now playing second lead at Her Majesty’s as Rose Egerton in * After Dark,’ a part played until very recently by Miss Bessießignold.acleveryoungEnglishactress. ThefairMariebel has improved greatly in appearance, and will, no doubt, when she has learned to move with some appearance of grace, blossom into a good actress. There is a certain subtle ungainliness about her now which experience and advancing years will no doubt do away with. Miss Kate Bishop, o'? whom Aucklanders in conjunction with Sydneyites are, I believe, great admirers, has retired from the stage pro temp. It has been my good fortune to meet this charming actress on several occasions in her private life in her own lovely home, a regular nest of art, of which she is passionately fond. Chatting with her in her daintily-fitted boudoir (drawing-room seems too harshly cold an epithet for the cozy nook perfumed with flowers, and adorned as only an artist can adorn, with its low easy-chairs that seem to woo one to luxurious laziness, its exquisite paintings, soft drooping ferns, blazing fire, and delicious hangings, the tints of colouring mingled in a way that acts as food to the eyes of all lovers of the beautiful) over a cup of fragrant tea, I forgot the popular actress in my admiration for the beautiful, noble woman who conversed with me, and who filled me with longings to do good deeds. On my first visit to Miss Bishop she wore a lovely tea-gown of creamy silk, fastened round the waist with a white silk girdle, her hair cut short, lending a peculiar softness to her expressive face. At interview number two, to which I looked forward with the greatest pleasure, she looked more than charming in a Grecian tea-gown of myrtle Chinese silk, the shoulders draped with the finest of lace, caught on one side with a tiny diamond arrow-, on the other shoulder by a wee star of the same jewel. The verandah of her pretty bijou residence is a mass of New Zealand ferns. . In a richly-chased cage a canary chirrups gaily, a gift, Miss Bishop told me, from an Auckland friend. L nlike star actresses, Miss Bishop’s chief interest is centred in her home. All the prettiest tit-bits among her artistic surroundings are the work of her own hands.

These six days have been marked with one intensely delightful affair—a Society masquerade. Could any entertainment be more captivating than a host of pretty women, with their bright faces hidden from the inquisitive vulgar stare of man, all splendidly dressed. Dancing is at 'all times a pleasure both to the young and those showing the crqwsfeet marks of autumn, but a dance with the naughty adjuncts, masks, is simply, to use an restheticisni, ‘ tootoo.’ I shall never forget the flowers on this occasion. Not content with banks of lilies and roses, an Eiffel Tower of these lovely blooms was fixed up in the middle of the great hall. One of the sensation frocks was a pale green silk train over a crystal embroidered petticoat. The jewels — girdle, tiara, necklet, and armlets — were superb diamonds. A fascinating little figure wore a train of the palest blue silk with a jupe of damask rosesand magnificent rubies. One eccentricity was a deep rich golden brocade embroidered with jewelled spiders. A tall regal woman was in white velvet with white heath fixings; another was in pale pink illustrated with great red roses. A white pongee smothered with golden wallflowers with topaz jewels was the other greatest millinery event.

Mab.