The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1880-10-21
Esthetic MiIIinery---" Symphonies" in
BOnnets and Dresses.

BOnnetS and Dresses.
1 visited my milliner yesterday. l
wanted plain fall bonnet and asked to
see some. She took me around TO be-
wildering hot-house of flowers of all
seasons, fruits of every nation and birds
Of every cline. She said:
" II madam will allow 1 will suggest
most exquisite bonnet of beaded silk,
trimmed with fruit and garnet beetles.
II will be so very becoming to madam
style. The artistic effect is so sweetly
beautiful, and if madam has aesthetic
tastes, as am sure she has, it will en-
chant her. 1t is what Whistler would
call a symphony in natural history. 1t
is poem in color, song in material. "
That was the bonnet for me. / told
her to bring it. She did. 1t looked at
the first glance like adecayed basket Of
vegetables with hundreds of barn yard
flies running over it, but closer inspec-
ton proved it to be what she said, a
" symphony" inasmuch as it was COM
posed of some funny combinations. On
il were three young winter squashes, a
gherkin. two cherries Qor bright COLOR
and seventeen full-grown cockroaches,
all apparently prospecting for nests
wherein to go to work and hatch more
should say that cockroach is the vul-
gar for garnet beetles.
| concluded that would prefer poems
inside rather than outside my head,
and started on the hunt for (metaphori-
cally speaking) a sermon IN prose in
the way of a bonnet, but they are all
"wergin' on poetry" for on each and
all | found the same collections of bugs
and beasts, fruit and vegetables, and on
one dear, cunning little chipmunk; on
another an owl, and on many more liz
yards and other reptiles, 20 say nothing
of several with horse-shoes in miniature
and other absurdities. IlabOred all the
afternoon and at last in state border
ing on insanity took a bonnet with a
fun grown pumpkin vine on it, with
flowers but no fruit. | thought my head
might possibly fill that important mis-
sion.
l was fired with aesthetic aspirations
in the way of dress, for l found that
for ones whole happiness and delight
one must be artistic or nothing in the
way of dress. / wanted it for the first
party of the season. Monsieur said:
" Madame is demi-brunette, and oh,
le bonheau! frail Che meant thin, and
therefore it would be work of pleasure
to confectioner dress for madame. 1t
must be exquisite, thing of beauty,
creation of high art, symphony in
silks
symphony is a new word in the dress
makers art, l fancy, but it is so eX-
pressive that it somehow takes away
your breath and makes you think you
are going to be transported to sew
enth heaven of all delights and become
the envy of your sex. So blindly fol-
lowed his arguments as he threaded
through the intricacies of his art, and
at last | did not know whether my dress
was to be more material than woven
mist and golden sunbeams or not. All
l can distinctly remember that had
tangible sound was foliage"
left there and went home bewilder-
ed, but still serene in the consciousness
that Monsieur knew what was right and
sure that he considered thin people far
more artistically beautiful than any 9th
ers, and that as am very thin l must
be more beautiful than anybody else.
Well the afternoon of the party my
dress came home. My husband threw
himself on the sofa and CALCULATED: go
glory of glories and hallelujaht'
That was just about it.
The dress was pale yellowish green
or greenish yellow. L put it on and
slowly revOlved before the glass. The
waist was tight, the sleeves tighter and
the skirt was cut with commendable
economy in width, but was from here
to yonder in length, and the bottom
was one bewildering labyrinth of hounee,
of lace, of blue, yellow and green and
all so puckered and twisted together
that YOU could not tell where one ended
and the other commenced. There had
also been some artist at work with pal
cite and brush and | found was to be
a sort of walking floral bower, with a
complement of pale greenish birds
among the flowers and, to crown all,
some surplus silk had been twisted,
turned and looped here and there with
the foliage" which was nothing more
nor less than curly cabbage. Curled
cabbage also graced the PompadOur
neck and the corsage at the waist. l
looked for all the world ike pea vine
gone to seed, with these hateful cab
bages stuck about as mockery of my
former glories; and a rail certainly
seemed a monster of obesity beside my
figure.
1 got tired of standing up under the
running fire of my husbands ridieule
and nv maids raptures. but found
that there was no possibility of taking
a proper position, so l had to adopt a
very languid attitude or stand. Wen,
went to the party and in that dress and
every one raved over my newly devel-
oped aesthetic taste and remarked on
my new gracefulness of pose and be-
lieve | am the rage, but why l don't
know, unless L am symphony in
color" and a skeleton in armor, too
N. T. Graphic.