SYDNEY GOSSIP.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VI, Issue 38, 20 September 1890, Page 12

SYDNEY GOSSIP.

Dear Bee, September 4. Hymen and Terpsichore are again tremendously busy taking innings in their separate games of chance. There will soon not be a single Society spinster at large. What with marriage, giving in marriage, and a whole battery ot dances my poor dear ideas are becoming hopelessly crushed. How can divine afflatus show healthy shoots watered with such frivolous doings 1 Why, even the heaven-born inspiration of a local poet would perish in such surroundings. Talking of tossers up of verse, I suffered tortures on the rack of unacknowledged genius at the ‘ JLempe ’ ball. One of my partners, an individual belonging to the tourist fraternity (that poor maligned brotherhood whom envious creatures are wont to describe as carrying theirbrains in their pretty yellow shoes) had been inspired by some evil genius to devote the six wseks of his journey from the old country to penning an article or blank verse, poem, I could not quite determine which, on the incidents told by Tennyson in his epic, ‘ Morte d’Arthur.' The creations of my tormentor’s brain, from which, by-the-bye, he has not as yet succeeded in brushing the cobwebs, began to flow almost from our introduction. In art unlucky moment, after having my- feet treated to the massage process for the first few bars of a divine w-altz from ‘ Paul Jones,’ I pleaded fatigue. No sooner were we seated in an obscure corner than his eloquence burst forth, and, like ‘ The Brook,’evinced a tendency to How on forever. My recollection of the poet laureate in embryo's grand coup is that it was painfully long, and as good a sleeping draught as laudanum Before it was half over King Arthur, Sir Bedivere, and Camelot got miserably mixed. That poetic chaos served to convince me, where sundry chaperonic lectures have failed, of the impropriety- of ‘ sitting out a dance.’ Bar this minor disagreeable, the hop in question was a splendid affair. The huge Darlinghurst Kink was the scene of action, and looked just lovely with its ‘Mikado’ adorned walls and brilliant electric light, an illuminator which has a most unhappy knack, by-the-bye, of dragging any semblance to nature’s finger from cosmetics. I should think t hat many a feminine work of art owes Edison ag> udge. Dye of some sort cannot bear the magic magnifier turned upon it. I noticed one elderlybeau whose moustache had a distinct navy blue tint. The supper-room was separated from the main centre by drapings of parti-coloured Hags; another draped partition screened the entrance ; in front of this was a carpeted square, on which were carelessly scattered wicker and whangee lounges, delicious wee tables holding a confusion of Howers and artistic stands. This nook was kept sacred to ViceKoyalty and its nearest satellites. Lady Carrington wore a mixture of Eiffel red net and straw-coloured silk, brocaded in a pattern of red. The cunning low corsage was of brocade, and butterfly bows of the same ornamented one side of the skirt ; her jewels were the loveliest of diamonds. Mrs Burdekin’s frock was a cream lustreless silk, guiltless of a single spot of colouring, the sole bit of life being her magnificent diamonds. Mrs Laidley Mort had a superb train of mystic green brocade—that beautiful soft tint that acts as a tonic to the unfortunate optic brought to bear on a mass of colouring. This was worn with a jupe of creamy lace and emeralds. A buttercup yellow silk veiled in gold embroidered gauze should, from its costly luxuriance, have proved a capital Benedictian purse emptier. Miss Carrie Swain (Mrs Gardiner) had a pale blue satin demitrained gown draped with exquisite pearled net. Quite the sensation frock was a bodice and train of white armure, the centre width of the train of splendid gold brocade. It is so long since I gave you a peep at Dame Fashion’s fads I am tempted to give you a recipe for a few of the latest eccentricities. To anyone whose purse strings are knotted, and who is the happy possessor of a set of dinnermats in straw, the newest plunge in hats ought to be intensely satisfactory. They are just straw plates, ‘ simply that anil nothing more,’ mounted either on a wreath of flowers or a coronet of plaited velvet. The outside straw remains ‘beauty unadorned.’ A large white bird mounted on tulle strings is the very essence of style in bonnets. Veils are in white or black fine net, with a single chenille spot on one cheek meant to represent a beauty patch. This innovation has its drawbacks, as in the case of a pretty- girl I met in George-street yesterday, who had evidently adjusted her veil in a hurry, as the spot ornamented the tip of her nose. In bodily attire we are to be angels in outward aspect. All the Parisian model frocks have ‘ wing sleeves ’ falling from the shoulder to the feet over the usual tight-fitting arm case. Afterall it is really quite time that feminity should wear her badge. Frocks are almost without fulling, perfectly tight in front, and just a trifle pleated at the back. Judging by the present symptoms of skimpiness, those of us who are fortunate enough to have a sporting man as a better half will be able to utilise his gun-case before long. Gloves are longer than ever, ami either laced or fastened with goldcoloured hooks and eyes—such pretty quaint things, I quite lost my heart at first sight. The new canrbrics have taken a backward skip to their- old love, Madame Pompadour. Some of them with art foundations scattered over with flowers are indescribable. One, a pale heliotrope (the fashionable shade for the coming summer), scattered over with single great velvety pansies and tr ailing neutral tinted grasses, is perfect. I had almost forgotten to give you some of Cupid’s sayings and doings in the shape of a real high-totted wedding, a real ecclesiastical ceremony, the bride being Miss Mary Druitt, third daughter of Archdeacon Druitt, and the bridegroom the Rev. A. K. Shaw. The nuptials were performed by the Bishop of Goulburn, and were very smart. The bride, a handsome stately girl, had a train of ivory brocade over a petticoat of rich white corded silk, witnashirredflounce at the lower edge. Herbouquet wasja lovely mixture of white hyacinths, roses, camellias, and fern fronds. Two tiny dirts acted as train-bearers in pink nun’s veiling frocks, pale rose Liberty sashes, and tulle caps. The six pretty bridesmaids wore white pongee silk, three having eaude nil sashes and tulle caps ; the remaining trio had heliotrope fixings. The presents were so numerous and costly I felt inclined to echo the wish of the enfant terrible who longed to have been born a bride. Such a collection of silver, enough to stock an ambitious silversmith’s, to say nothing of a host of substantial cheques, and the most delicate of china, in addition to a well-appointed equipage

and horse*.

Mab.