SYDNEY GOSSIP.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume V, Issue 43, 25 October 1890, Page 11

SYDNEY GOSSIP.

Dear Bee, October 4. The much-talked-of ‘Queen’s Fund’ ball has become a folded down social event. To reasonable people the affair was a huge success, but the insatiable demagogue, Society, is very busy giving vicious pecks at the Committee, making their shortcomings the subject of a budget of those hedgehoggy little whispers for which our sex is famous. What seraph in female form could desire more than a splendid floor, good music, and a supper lit for Queen Mab? Ah ! well, I suppose, there are whole armies of created beings in the world to whom all the goods the gods provide are Dead Sea fruit. What, a pity it is that these poor sourcrusted individuals don’t form themselves into a sisterhood with ‘ Grumble thou ’ as their motto, and a ‘trumpet’ of public opinion wherein to air their grievances ! To me the ball was simply delicious. The howling wind and sleet of the day had given place to a dose of moonlight. The great Centennial Hall was a chapter of brightness, internally and externally, and the flowers were a feast—masses of yellow roses, and arums with vivid red leaves, kissing the gold and white. Qne monster tigerlily sulkingin an alcove alone was in itself a study in Nature’s pencil. Miss Mariebel Greenwood was acknowledged by one and all as the ‘belle of the ball.’ I never saw a more lovely picture than she made in a plain classic robe of pure white silk without ornament of any kind, its purity unmarried by even a speck of colour. Her hair was dressed in imitation of Miss Mary Anderson. Lady Carrington had a fairy-like frock of silvery white striped gauze, made in one of the graceful sweep trains. The bodice, a myth as to material, was edged around the shoulders with pink roses, and sprays of the same made desperate love to one side of the skirt. Her pretty hair was brightened with diamonds, ami the same gold gems, darting out their warm coloured lights, clasped her throat. Lady Martin was in black lace and diamonds, a creation that suggested a murky sky with stray stars struggling to life. Mrs George Cohen’s cunning wee corsage seemed literally nothing but diamonds. The flashing stones were scattered about in such (quantities, to pick out the material was an optical iiii|Hissibility ; it was, presumably, silver grey silk, as the jupc and Greek train were of that fabric. Mrs Burdekin wore an indescribably unique mingling of soft mignonette green and dawn pink ;. her necklet and stars were diamonds. A superb frock had a train of tan velvet over a biocade petticoat just exactly the same shade ; the gloves and shoes were tan, the fan a fluffy mass of ostrich feathers, and the jewels diamonds and topaz. Mrs Watprlow’s (Madame Marie Burton) frock was the handsomest in the ball, and created quite a sensation. The train, falling from the shoulders in rich heavy folds, was of cream satin, the underskirt was embroidered all over in delicate silk and gold thread. A sweet little bit of humanity, one of those lovely abbreviated women who seem to dance through life, was in yellow silk, which sheathed rather than clothed her pretty symmetrical figure ; her fan was a cluster of yellow ostrich feathers, and her posy a glory of buttercups. This is, in truth, a buttercup season. Last year it would have been considered unpardonable eccentricity to patronise the simple field flower ; this year we positively languish for its golden beauty. It is quite a common thing to give half a guinea for a buttercup bouquet. Another pretty frock was a plain trained robe of deep heliotrope armure, with fearfully intensified tumour shoulders, and a double festoon of pale pink Howers, like a girdle, reaching to the feet. A very light green pongee had a similar trimming of grasses, with emeraldsand rubies scattered over the low bodice. The supper table was most exquisitely decorated. Mab.