DRESS
"Be plain in dress, and sober in your diet;;In short, my deary, kiss me! and be quiet."—Lady W. Montague.
"Be plain in dress, and sober in your diet;;In short, my deary, kiss me! and be quiet."
"Be plain in dress, and sober in your diet;;
In short, my deary, kiss me! and be quiet."
—Lady W. Montague.
—Lady W. Montague.
The world has its full share of silly women—more's the pity—but there is not one who can hold a candle to the girl who trots about in the cold, bleak days of winter clad in summery undergarments fit only for the warm atmosphere of a baker's oven in August. So long as these exhibitions of utter absurdity continue we cannot consistently harp upon woman's recently acquired good sense in dress. It seems more and more the fad for girls to boast that they have never worn a vulgar outfit of flannel undergarments, but it is quite observable that these same girls are the very ones who are eternally grunting and groaning and coughing and fussing. And how can they help it? You can't have good health if you keep yourself in a semi-refrigerated state. A sleeveless vest of silk is not sufficient to keep one's body warm, even though the prettiest bodice in Christendom and the swellest of "coaties" cover it. Skirts of white muslin, with pretty frills and lacey trimmings that fall in soft folds and ruffles around one's feet, are mighty dainty things for the summer girl—but is there a colder sound than that of a starched white petticoat in the dead of winter? Bur-r-rr! it gives one the cold chills to even think of it!
Who has not beheld the stunningly gowned girl stalking majestically around the shopping district in a little tailor-made jacket topped off with a fur collarette? She tells herself that she is perfectly warm and comfortable, but you and I know better, my dear, for we have seen her unhappy efforts to crawl up into this same collarette, and we have beheld her shivering misery as a good stiff gust of January wind sends her flying around a corner.
I am a firm believer in the tailor-made gown, and I am of the opinion that style often counts more than real beauty with women of stately carriage and pretty figure. But nevertheless, I believe first in keeping warm and in protecting one's health. The girl in the smart little jacket could well afford to wear a winter coat over it on the coldest days, and even then she would not swelter from the heat. Really, it is torture for a woman of common sense to go along the shopping district and see her poor, miserable sisters who let comfort fly to the four winds of heaven while they revel madly in appearances. It's all very well, my girls, to look your best. But don't make sacrifices that will injure your health. I'd rather see a woman in a last winter's coat with the seams shiny than look upon a foolish but radiant creature in a bit of a cape that would keep her about as warm as would two good-sized cobwebs stitched together. The first woman would have the advantage of displaying evidence of real brains on the inside of her head. And beauty without brains isn't real beauty at all, but a sad, shop-worn, tear-wringing imitation.
It is my opinion that in choosing underclothing for cold weather finely-woven cotton is the best of all. Silk is not durable, and wool, even of the finest quality, will often prove irritating. Besides, so many of us spend most of our time in steam-heated homes or offices that woolen garments keep one too warm. The cotton union suit makes a very desirable undergarment. This should be high-necked, long-sleeved, and made to come well down over the ankles. For the girl whose particular worry is a nose of flaming red, let me say that in fleece-lined stockings, calfskin boots and warm overshoes lies her only hope of a less flamboyant nasal appendage.
There is no need of fourteen petticoats, notwithstanding the fact that really nice old ladies insist upon wearing that number. One skirt of silk or moreen, together with a tiny short one of white muslin and a pair of sensible, warm, woolen equestrian tights will make one more comfortable and will allay that immense swelling about the hips which much be-petticoated old ladies have. The tights, however, should be worn only when one is out of doors. During really cold weather no woman with sense enough to fill a one-grain quinine capsule will venture out of the house without thus properly clothing her lower limbs. Let femininity come to the understanding that in proper dressing and rational eating she will find the first and best materials for building her house of beauty. It's all very well to wear pretty, fluffy, lace-trimmed undergarments, but if you think that a wan, white, pinched little face pays you for such extravagances in silliness, then you are a ninny. Wear the fluffy things if you will, but put on the warm ones, too. In making a choice between the raiments of a ballet dancer and those of an Eskimo lady, I'd point the finger of approval toward the latter—at least at those times when the thermometer is lounging around the zero point.
THE THIN GIRL
"Beauty givesThe features perfectness, and to the formIts delicate proportions."—Willis.
"Beauty givesThe features perfectness, and to the formIts delicate proportions."
"Beauty gives
The features perfectness, and to the form
Its delicate proportions."
—Willis.
—Willis.
Diogenes and his lantern had an easy, simple task. If they had started out together to turn their searchlight of discovery upon a woman who was neither too fat nor too thin, no doubt they'd been poking around in other people's affairs ever since. I once heard of a woman to whom the idea of gaining or reducing flesh had never occurred, but she died before I got a chance to look at her, so of course I am rather doubtful as to the truth of the story. To my mind she should have been made president of something or other or else been put on exhibition where the rest of suffering womankind could have gone and feasted their eyes upon such an impossible paragon. If there is not a general wail about over-weight or under-weight, then it's a thin neck, or big hips, or an inclination to too much "tum-tum," or skinny arms, or cheeks like miniature pumpkins—and goodness only knows what else. And by the time one particular horror is massaged out of existence another crops up like a spook in the closet of a "fraidy-cat" girl, and then the business is begun all over again.
Therefore, say I this: Don't worry yourself into your grave about too much flesh or a lack of it unless you find yourself taking on the extreme proportions of a skeleton lady, or a museum exhibit of unusual plumpness. A thin neck may be a bad thing—as all girls so afflicted can testify—but if that thin neck is rebellious, and pays absolutely no attention to tonics or massage or other coddling for which it should rightly be grateful, then merely say, "All right, if you insist!" And turn your attention to other things. What admirer of feminine beauty would not look upon a bright mind, quick, kindly wits, and sweet lovableness as a thousand times more acceptable than a neck as round and perfect as that of a Venus?
On the other hand, let me say that, if you will merely look after your health—exercise every day, be out of doors, eat proper foods and take your daily sponge bath—you will keep your chest broad and full, and your waist trim and neat. Breathing exercises every morning are excellent for this happy condition of affairs. It is my firm belief that women could mold their bodies as they would if they only had patience and perseverance—not so much in flesh-gaining or flesh-losing, but in being wholesomely strong and healthy. This is most necessary, not only to prolong life and make it pleasanter and more livable in every way, but to be what God evidently intended—a robust, well-developed and perfectly formed woman.
Thin girls must be lazy and plump ones busy. If you work hard and have the usual load of worries that half the women lug about with them as they do their powder rags and their purses, then you may never hope to revel in a vast amount of fat. Fretters are invariably thin; they simply worry off the flesh faster than nature can create it.
When a woman is unusually slender it is her duty to get fat, not any more for the reason that she will look prettier with the angles filled out than for the reason that she will be stronger and healthier and in a better condition to resist illness and fatigue. She should have at least ten hours' sleep out of twenty-four, and this must be healthy sleep in a well-ventilated bedroom, on a hard mattress, and with no high pillows to make her stoop-shouldered and of ungainly figure. A nap during the day is a good thing if one can afford the time. Absolute freedom from care and anxiety are necessary, but—alas—we cannot always regulate the antics of fate or circumstances that deny us these sweet privileges. The diet must be of the most nourishing, and should consist mostly of food containing starch and sugar, such as good fresh butter, rich milk, cream, fruits both raw and cooked, macaroni, fish, corn, sweet potatoes, peas, beans, ice creams, desserts without pastries, and nourishing broths. Cereals, poultry, game, chocolate and sweet grapes are all excellent. Avoid all spiced, acid or very salty foods. While plenty of outdoor life is most essential, a great deal of exercise is not. If there is any internal disease, especially the slightest inclination to dyspepsia or liver trouble, one cannot possibly gain flesh until the cause of the extreme slenderness is removed. When the body is plump in one part and fails in another, either massage or a gymnastic course is advised. Dumb-bells and Indian clubs will develop the arms; massage with a fattening emollient, together with loose clothing, tepid baths and breathing exercises, will increase the size of the chest and bust, while swimming, moderate bicycling and walking are good for nearly all plaints of the thin lady.
But until these changes are brought about—and it will take lots of time—do not fret or worry. Merely wear your clothing very loose, substitute a comfortable little waist for stiff, unwieldy corsets, and see that your gowns are made full and dainty. In this last particular you will have an immense advantage over the woman who would sell the shoes off her feet to be thin and "willowy."
THE PLUMP GIRL
"What's female beauty but an air divine,Through which the mind's all-gentle graces shine?They, like the sun, irradiate all between;The body charms, because the soul is seen."—Young.
"What's female beauty but an air divine,Through which the mind's all-gentle graces shine?They, like the sun, irradiate all between;The body charms, because the soul is seen."
"What's female beauty but an air divine,
Through which the mind's all-gentle graces shine?
They, like the sun, irradiate all between;
The body charms, because the soul is seen."
—Young.
—Young.
If one had to choose between being too fat or too lean, the wise woman would certainly take the smaller allowance of flesh. Jack Sprat might incite pleasant ridicule, but Jack Sprat's wife—lo! there would be naught but pity and tears for her! It is better by far to be the butt of jokes concerning "walking shoestrings" or "perambulating umbrella cases" than to waddle through life burdened to death with an excessive amount of flesh. The thin sister can pad out the angles, put frills and puffy things over the bony places, but alas for the fat one! She gets into clothes that are skin-tight, and she draws in her corset string until it snaps and gives at every breath and sneeze, and even then she does not look graceful and pretty, for the fat—like secrets—will out, and it rolls over and around like the little bumps and humps in a pudding bag.
LADY NAYLOR-LELAND
LADY NAYLOR-LELAND
Yet, after all, there's more hope for her than for her sister in misery. While some thin girls might revel in cod liver oil and nearly convert themselves into a hospital storeroom of tonics and fattening foods, they can't get round and rotund—the Lord seems to will it that certain persons are to amble disconsolately through life minus the proper allotment of flesh. But with the overplump lady it all lies within herself as to whether she is to be stout and buxom or of more artistic and beautiful proportions. It is simply a matter of getting up and hustling, a condition of animation frequently foreign to her nature, but not at all impossible to even the most unwieldy.
While a certain careful routine of living is necessary for a speedy change for the better, the two main points to remember are diet and exercise. To the girl who says: "But I can't diet. I get hungry. I love sweets and goodies, and have to have them," I must reply: "Well, then, be fat." What is worth having is worth working for, and the woman who is too fat for her own comfort and personal appearance invariably has ahead of her the dreadful bogy of additional flesh as the years go on. And surely that should be enough to inspire her to mend her ways.
In beginning the change—that is, in starting out on a regular system of dieting and exercising—you should remember that the reform must be worked gradually. One must go slowly into the more healthful manner of living. The severe methods of flesh-reducing cannot be too greatly deplored, and many a woman has lost her life by these extreme measures. I do not mean that they have died at their exercisers or that they fell exhausted because they did not have enough to eat, but that in their mad efforts to become thin quickly they undermined their health and laid a good foundation for physical disorders. Good health, with too much plumpness, is preferable to beautiful proportions and the listlessness and pain of ill health. So you can follow my advice with the greatest safety, as health—to my way of thinking—is greater than beauty, for the last depends upon the first, invariably.
To-morrow, when you get up, throw on a loose, warm wrapper, and then open the window. Stand in the cool, crisp morning air, and expand your lungs a dozen times, holding your hands on your hips and raising yourself lightly on your toes. Vary this by walking across the room, taking long, full breaths from the abdomen. This practice is equally good for the thin girl, or any other kind of a girl, for that matter. After airing your lungs close the window and run into the bath-room, where you should have a quick sponge bath, rubbing the body briskly with a heavy towel. A quick alcohol rub can follow, just as one pleases. For breakfast let there be fresh uncooked fruit, especially oranges. Tea or coffee must be taken clear, as neither milk nor sugar should be indulged in by the beauty patient whose chief ambition it is to lose flesh. Toast must always be eaten instead of bread, and butter used sparingly at all times. Avoid fats, starchy cereals, flesh-producing vegetables and pastries. This is very simple, when you once make up your mind to it. Do not fancy you are thus left with nothing whatever to eat—like Mother Hubbard's unhappy dog. Meats, either cold or broiled, are good if eaten in moderation. Poultry, fish and game are all right. Asparagus, string beans, spinach and tomatoes are the most appetizing of vegetables, and in these four alone there will be sufficient variety, especially when salads of all sorts are included, although these must, of course, be taken without oil. Young onions are also excellent, as are condiments, dried fruits and acidulated drinks. A hot lemonade, taken every night, is good, but it must have little sugar, else the effects of the acid will be overbalanced.
As for exercise, walking is best of all. Running is very beneficial, but the unique witticisms of the average small boy will probably keep this form of exercise confined strictly to the house. Begin by walking half a mile for several days, then make the distance a mile, and keep increasing your daily walk until you cover at least five miles. That may sound like an impossibility, but don't you believe it, for it's not at all. In Great Britain a walk of fifteen miles is not considered half an effort, and who does not know that the English girls have the most superb complexions in the world? Besides this, they are healthy, wholesome, well-developed women, and that counts a good deal in the race for beauty. If the five-mile walk is too exhausting, then take a longer time getting to the point, when it will be exhilarating instead of enervating.
Sleep must be limited to seven hours, and daily naps are strictly tabooed. To those who prefer, mechanical massage can be given, and this will take the place of long walks, although they are really preferable, as the fresh air is necessary. Oxygen destroys or burns out carbon, and carbon is fat. The more exercise and fresh air, the more oxygen, and consequently destruction of fat by the one healthy means of remedying obesity. Soda phosphates and the various fat-reducing preparations are not desirable. The only way to cajole willowiness of body into coming in your direction is to diet and to take plenty of exercise. Do not drink much water. A little lemon juice added to it will make it less fattening.
There, now, plump lady, are your rules! Abide by them and your woes will surely disappear with a swiftness that will make you laugh.
THE WORKING GIRL
"Labor is life!—'Tis the still water faileth;Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth;Keep the watch wound, or the dark rust assaileth."—Mrs. Frances S. Osgood.
"Labor is life!—'Tis the still water faileth;Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth;Keep the watch wound, or the dark rust assaileth."
"Labor is life!—'Tis the still water faileth;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth;
Keep the watch wound, or the dark rust assaileth."
—Mrs. Frances S. Osgood.
—Mrs. Frances S. Osgood.
It has often occurred to me that there are a vast number of plucky little bread-winning girls and women to whom even a tiny jar of creme marquise is a hopeless impossibility. For them is this chapter written.
In the first place, we all feel pretty sure that—in the great, wonderful beginning of things—it was never meant that women should work. We can't help knowing this when we look about us every night at six o'clock and see the weary, patient, brave little faces that line either side of the elevated trains or the crowded street cars. Women are not given to the solving of problems, so we won't go into the great "whys" or the "wherefores." That's a loss of time anyhow. But we will do heaps better than that. We will try to be hopeful and cheery, and learn how to make the best of the little happinesses that do come our way.
The working girl—and we all take off our hats to her pluck—needs more than any other class of womankind to take care of her health. She is out in all kinds of weather, she works hard, and ofttimes struggles through a daily routine that is harrowing beyond everything. After hours there is mending to be done, or a thousand and one little duties to keep her busy until, tired out and nerve-weary, she goes to bed to gain rest and strength for the struggles of the morrow. She cannot afford the little luxuries of the toilet that are so dear and near to the heart of womankind the world over. The joys of having her hair "done" or her pretty cheeks massaged are not hers—and the pity of it is that often enough the fault lies not within herself, but in the unhappy circumstances of fate that have placed her among the less fortunate sisterhood.
Let a large bar of castile soap be the working girl's first investment. I say a "large" bar for the reason that it is much cheaper when bought that way. A good-sized piece of the pure white castile can be bought at some of the drug stores for fifteen or twenty cents. This should be cut into small cakes and put on a high shelf, where it will become dry and hard and so it will be more lasting. With plenty of warm water, a few good wash-rags and this pure soap you will have a beauty outfit that will be more beneficial than all the rouges and eyebrow pencils that were ever put into the windows of beauty shops.
The bath should be daily. Now do not say that you have not the time, for the sponge bath—which will make the blood tingle and the flesh glow—can be got through with in almost no time. It is most imperative that the secretions of the skin and the dust gathered during the day should be removed. When the body is not kept scrupulously clean the complexion is sure to suffer, for there the pores of the skin are most susceptible, and eruptions and blackheads come from very slight causes. When the hands become rough and tender, and will not stand soap, prepare a little almond meal. This, too, is very inexpensive, for, instead of the powdered almonds, you can use the pressed almond cake, which is nearly as good and very cheap, and in place of the orris root wheat flour can be used. Take three ounces of the first and seven of the latter. If you can afford it, add a little powdered talcum. A cream for the face and hands, and one which can be used with perfect safety, is benzoinated mutton tallow. This is simply the best mutton tallow to which benzoin has been added, and both ingredients kept at a steady heat until the alcohol of the benzoin has been completely evaporated.
About the hair: The greatest secret of luxuriant locks is absolute cleanliness. There are many women who vainly fancy that they keep their pretty locks perfectly clean, when they really do not at all. Only plenty of running water can thoroughly rinse the soap or shampoo out. If the hair is at all sticky, or if a slight oily substance adheres to the comb, then the hair is not clean. (And let me say right here, combs and brushes too must be kept as scrupulously clean as the hair itself.) Castile soap makes the best shampoo in the world, especially when a little piece is dissolved in warm water and a tiny bit of ammonia or alcohol added, although for dry hair neither the alcohol nor ammonia is at all necessary. If a tonic is needed, then use the sage tea, which, however, must not be put on light, blond tresses. Common kerosene, if one can endure the odor, is an unsurpassed remedy for falling hair. Rubbing the scalp every night with the finger tips until the flesh tingles and glows is a most inexpensive way of stimulating the circulation, and frequently makes the hair grow long and nice and fine.
What one eats plays such a leading part in the beauty-getting efforts—but I have but little space left now to tell about that. Summed up in a nutshell, it is this: Eat very little pastry, and shun greasy foods or fat meats, like pork or bacon. Pin your faith to vegetables and fruit. A luncheon of two apples is of greater nourishment, and more, real value to good looks, than a repast of mince pie and coffee—two unspeakable horrors to any one who regards health and beauty as worth the having or the striving for.
As for the dress, I could write a seven volume treatise on that. It sounds prosy, I know, and very stupid, but let me tell you that it is the wise girl who buys for comfort, utility and wear, instead of style and elaborateness. A plain little fedora, if well brushed, makes a trimmer, neater appearance than a cheap velvet hat ornamented with feathers that have straightened out and flowers that have long since lost their glory in the rains and storms of autumn time. It is the same way with shoes and gloves. If one can possibly afford it, calfskin boots and heavy gloves should always be purchased. They will not only outwear two or three pairs of the lighter, less durable kind, but they will give warmth and comfort and a well-groomed look as well.
THE NERVOUS ONE
"The beautiful seems right by force of beauty; and the feeble wrong because of weakness."—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Of all the unfortunates on the face of the globe there is none so worthy of real all-wool pity and yard-wide sympathy as the woman of nerves. Yes, and her family needs a dash of consolation, too. One nervous woman can create more nervousness among other women than could a cageful of mice or a colony of cows suddenly let loose. It is not for herself that the fuss-budget should mend her ways, but for the great good of humanity at large.
We are all of us more or less nervous, and it is really interesting to observe what strange outlets woman's natural nervousness chooses.
"I'd walk from Hyde Park to the city hall at midnight and never be a bit scared. But let me stay in the flat alone after dark and I'm in a state of terror that would make you weep were you to behold me," confesses nervous lady No. 1.
"I have nerves of iron," pipes up nervous lady No. 2. "Except when there is a thunderstorm. Then I wish I were as dead as Julius Cæsar."
"Well!" drawls nervous lady No. 3. "I don't believe in ghosts at all, but I'm scared to death of 'em. Sometimes I not only keep the gas burning all night, but I sit up in bed so as to be right ready to run away from 'em."
Some people have contempt for the nervous ones. I have only pity. Any one who has gone through the tortures of hearing imaginary burglars three nights in the week for ten or twelve years on an endless stretch needs consolation and then a good, straight talk on the beautiful convenience of horse sense. Most women are always hearing burglars. Probably one in a thousand turns out to be a real, live housebreaker. Whenever the wise woman hears one fussing with the lock on the front door or trying to squeeze into the pantry window, she just says: "Same old burglar. He'll be gone in the morning," and he always is. That's a heap better plan than arousing the household and suffering the unmerciful torture that a family given to ridicule can inflict.
I heard a woman say the other day that she never knew what it was to be nervous until a certain ragman began to take pedestrian exercises up and down the alley back of her house. He carries a canvas bag over his shoulder, and he yells "Eny ol' racks" until that woman locks herself in a closet and stuffs sofa cushions into her ears. His "Eny ol' racks" has got on her nerves so that she is simply beside herself until that man takes himself and his yell out of hearing distance. To be sure, he yells through his nose, but why in the world that woman should make herself miserable about something she can't possibly help is a double-turreted mystery to me. The thing for her to do is to sit down placidly on the back porch and make up her mind that the ragman is not going to upset the tranquillity of her existence; that he hasn't any right to interfere with her happiness, and that she isn't going to be fool enough to let him. I'll wager a peseta against a gum drop that she could do it, too, and without half an effort, if she would only once be consistent and determined.
There is no use in beating about the bush. I feel sorry for the nervous woman at all times and every day in the week, but there's no chance of a doubt that the nervous woman is mentally unbalanced for want of courage and lack of will power. Some place, way back in the far corners of her intellect, there are numerous little sore spots that need the healing tonic of level-headedness and the bravery of belief in her own strength. Those wise gentlemen of pellets and pills tell us that when there is a defect in the structure of the nervous system, some certain region of cells not well flushed with blood is usually at the bottom of the infirmity. The cure, they say, is discipline and training, good food, exercise and plenty of sleep and good fresh air.
MRS. J. R. DE LAMAR
MRS. J. R. DE LAMAR
Sunlight is a glorious medicine for the woman of nerves. If I had a nervous fuss-budget under my care, the first thing I would do would be to feed her well. I'd give her nourishing broths and daintily-served vegetables, and little steaks and chops and plenty of fattening cereals and drinks. I would bundle her off to the parks every morning with sealed orders not to come back until she was dead tired and as hungry as a small girl at a boarding school. I would impress upon her mind the great need of throwing worry to the winds and taking in good, long breaths of God's blessed fresh air. Then, after feeding her some more, I'd make her take a nice, refreshing sponge bath and tumble early into bed. After several days of such treatment I'd corner her where she couldn't get away and lay down the laws.
"Now it's just with yourself," the lecture would begin with, "whether you are to be a jolly-hearted, wholesome-looking woman or a tailor-made gown with a bundle of nerves inside of it. No matter what comes, don't make yourself wretched by fretting. Every one has troubles. You can't escape them. Sometimes they come with a sweep-like tornadoes gone mad, and you'll say to yourself: 'My heavens! I wonder if I'll live through it all?' But you will, and between you and me, my dear, it's just as well to come out of the battle with a smiling face as with eight additional crow's feet and a new scolding lock of gray hair. Just say to yourself: 'I will not grind my teeth because the man next to me in the street car is chewing a toothpick. I am not responsible for his lack of manners. I positively refuse to have fits because the woman in the flat next to mine plays the flute eight hours a day. If it's convenient I'll move; if it isn't I'll not make existence a daylight nightmare.'
"School yourself!" I will continue. "Get lots of starch in you and a backbone that is a backbone! Don't fall down in a heap and mope over things you can't help. The agreeable things in life are as rare as sage-brush growing in Gotham, while the disagreeable is bobbing up eternally. So brace up, my friend, and make the best of it. Discipline yourself. Keep your mind fresh and bright, and your body strong and healthy. If you have hard work to do then do it with the least possible expenditure of worry and nerve-force. Be in the open air as much as you can, and above everything else dwell not on the unhealthy state of your nerves. Let self-mastery be your shibboleth and 'no nerves' your prayer."
PERFUMES
"Oh, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem,By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem,For that sweet odor which doth in it live."—Shakespeare.
"Oh, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem,By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem,For that sweet odor which doth in it live."
"Oh, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem,
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem,
For that sweet odor which doth in it live."
—Shakespeare.
—Shakespeare.
Women love delicate perfumes as they do silk stockings and violets. It's just "born in 'em," like their deep-rooted horror of mice and bills and burglars. From the time when the baby girl sniffs the sweetness of the powder puff as it fluffs about her soft, pretty neck until the white-haired lady lovingly fondles the lavender sachets that lie between the folds of her time-yellowed wedding gown, she loves sweet odors.
The true gentlewoman never uses strong perfumes, yet her hats and clothing and handkerchiefs always send forth a faint scent of fragrant flowers. The odor is so very slight that it does not suggest the dashing on of perfume, but, instead, bespeaks scrupulous cleanliness of body and garments, with perhaps an added suggestion of the soft winds that blow over a clover field. No perfume at all is far better than too much, for who does not look with suspicious eyes upon the woman who, when passing one on the street, seems to be in an invisible vapor of white rose or jockey club—strong enough to work on the streets?
There is a secret about it all, and such a simple one! It is merely choosing one particular odor and using it in every possible way. There is nothing sweeter than violet perfume, so suppose I illustrate with that? Begin by using orris root for your teeth, combined, of course, with the other necessary ingredients. Then, if you can afford it, get the expensive imported violet soaps, although as a matter of beautifying there is nothing better than the pure white castile. The odor of this, disliked by some, can be entirely done away with by using a little violet toilet water in the bath and touching the ear lobes with it afterward.
Then, between the folds of your gowns and in the crowns of your hats lay little violet sachets, always removing them before the gown or hat is worn, as the perfume must be faint and delicate. A few drops of essence of violet will scent your face powder, if it is not already perfumed, and bath bags of orris—and other good things—will add to your galaxy of sweet odors. If you use creme marquise or any of the other delightful cosmetics told about in our beauty book, add a little essence of violets to them while they are being mixed. Putting it all in a nutshell: Simply choose your favorite perfume and carry it out in every detail. For those who are fond of violet I will give the following recipes:
Creme de la Violettes:Place in a porcelain kettle one ounce each of white wax and spermaceti, cut in fine shavings. When melted add to this five ounces oil of sweet almonds and heat, but do not let boil. Remove from fire and pour in quickly one and one-half ounces of rose-water in which ten grains of borax has been dissolved. Beat briskly. When beginning to thicken, add one-half teaspoonful essence of violets. When nearly cold put in little jars. Use as cold cream or any general face cosmetic. It is more effective when applied at night, just after the face is bathed in warm water and while the flesh is pink and moist.Perfume—Violettes de Bois:Essence of violets, five ounces.Essence of acacia, one ounce.Essence of rose, one ounce.Extract of iris root, one ounce.Oil of bitter almonds, five drops.Violet Lotion:Alcohol, four ounces.Ammonia, one ounce.Essence of violets, one dram.Add one teaspoonful of this to a bowl of water when bathing the face, neck and arms. Hard water is the cause of many bad complexions, and this will remedy that particular trouble of the beauty-seeker.Poudre de Vicomtesse:Talcum powder, seven and one-half ounces.Finest starch, one and one-fourth ounces.Powdered orris root, one and one-fourth ounces.Oil of orris, ten drops.Violet Bath Bags:Two pounds of finely ground oatmeal.Three ounces of almond flour.One cake of best white castile soap, shaved fine.One-quarter pound powdered orris root.Take one yard of cheese cloth and make it into little bags about four inches square and fill with the mixture. These will make a soft white lather, and afterward the face, neck and arms should be rinsed in water containing a few drops of benzoin. Larger bags can be made for the regular bath.For the Teeth:One-fourth pound of prepared chalk, finely powdered.Three-fourths ounce pulverized castile soap.One ounce powdered orris root.One-half dram oil of sassafras.One ounce pulverized sugar.Violet Sachet:Black currant leaves, powdered, one-fourth pound.Rose leaves, one-fourth pound.Cassia buds, one-eighth pound.Orris, ground, one-half pound.Gum benzoin, one-eighth pound.Grain musk, powdered, one-fourth dram.Mix thoroughly and let stand for one week.Violet Toilet Water:Essence of violet, one and three-fourth ounces.Essence of rose, one-half ounce.Essence of cassie, one-half ounce.Alcohol, 14 ounces.Essence de Fleur d'Oranges:One-half ounce pure neroli.One pint alcohol.One ounce essence of jonquille.Violet Sachet Powder:Eight ounces of orris root.Five drops oil of bergamot.Three drops oil of bitter almonds.Four drops oil of rose.One fluid dram tincture of musk.Mix thoroughly.Lavender Sachet Powder:One pound powdered lavender.One-quarter pound gum benzoin (powdered).Six ounces oil of lavender.Mix.Heliotrope Sachet Powder:One-quarter pound rose leaves.Two ounces tonquin, ground fine.One-quarter pound pulverized orris root.One ounce vanilla (powdered).One-half grain musk.Two drops oil of almonds.Mix by fluffing through a sieve.
Creme de la Violettes:
Place in a porcelain kettle one ounce each of white wax and spermaceti, cut in fine shavings. When melted add to this five ounces oil of sweet almonds and heat, but do not let boil. Remove from fire and pour in quickly one and one-half ounces of rose-water in which ten grains of borax has been dissolved. Beat briskly. When beginning to thicken, add one-half teaspoonful essence of violets. When nearly cold put in little jars. Use as cold cream or any general face cosmetic. It is more effective when applied at night, just after the face is bathed in warm water and while the flesh is pink and moist.
Perfume—Violettes de Bois:
Essence of violets, five ounces.Essence of acacia, one ounce.Essence of rose, one ounce.Extract of iris root, one ounce.Oil of bitter almonds, five drops.
Violet Lotion:
Alcohol, four ounces.Ammonia, one ounce.Essence of violets, one dram.
Add one teaspoonful of this to a bowl of water when bathing the face, neck and arms. Hard water is the cause of many bad complexions, and this will remedy that particular trouble of the beauty-seeker.
Poudre de Vicomtesse:
Talcum powder, seven and one-half ounces.Finest starch, one and one-fourth ounces.Powdered orris root, one and one-fourth ounces.Oil of orris, ten drops.
Violet Bath Bags:
Two pounds of finely ground oatmeal.Three ounces of almond flour.One cake of best white castile soap, shaved fine.One-quarter pound powdered orris root.
Take one yard of cheese cloth and make it into little bags about four inches square and fill with the mixture. These will make a soft white lather, and afterward the face, neck and arms should be rinsed in water containing a few drops of benzoin. Larger bags can be made for the regular bath.
For the Teeth:
One-fourth pound of prepared chalk, finely powdered.Three-fourths ounce pulverized castile soap.One ounce powdered orris root.One-half dram oil of sassafras.One ounce pulverized sugar.
Violet Sachet:
Black currant leaves, powdered, one-fourth pound.Rose leaves, one-fourth pound.Cassia buds, one-eighth pound.Orris, ground, one-half pound.Gum benzoin, one-eighth pound.Grain musk, powdered, one-fourth dram.Mix thoroughly and let stand for one week.
Violet Toilet Water:
Essence of violet, one and three-fourth ounces.Essence of rose, one-half ounce.Essence of cassie, one-half ounce.Alcohol, 14 ounces.
Essence de Fleur d'Oranges:
One-half ounce pure neroli.One pint alcohol.One ounce essence of jonquille.
Violet Sachet Powder:
Eight ounces of orris root.Five drops oil of bergamot.Three drops oil of bitter almonds.Four drops oil of rose.One fluid dram tincture of musk.Mix thoroughly.
Lavender Sachet Powder:
One pound powdered lavender.One-quarter pound gum benzoin (powdered).Six ounces oil of lavender.Mix.
Heliotrope Sachet Powder:
One-quarter pound rose leaves.Two ounces tonquin, ground fine.One-quarter pound pulverized orris root.One ounce vanilla (powdered).One-half grain musk.Two drops oil of almonds.Mix by fluffing through a sieve.