The Portland daily press., 1881-02-18
FRIDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY is.
The Newest Dress.
A Woman Who is Symphony in Color
and Skeleton in Armor
IN, Y. Graphic. I


visited my milliner yesterday. l wanted a
plain fall bonnet and asked to see some. She
took me around to bewildering dollhouse of
flowers af all seasons, fruits of every nation,
and birds of every cline. She said:
IF madam will allow, will suggest most
exquisite bonnet of beaded silk trimmed with
fruit and garnet beetles. 1t will be so very be-
coming to madam's style. The artistic effect
is 80 sweetly beautiful, and if the madam has
aesthetic tastes, as I am sure she has, it will
enchant her. 1t is what Whistler would call a
symphony in natural history. 1t is a poem in
color and song In material"
That was the bonnet for me. | told her to
bring it. She did. 1t looked at the first
glance like a decayed basket of vegetables
with hundreds of barnyard flies running over
it, but closer inspection proved it to be what
she said, symphony" inasmuch as it was
composed of some funny combinations On
1t were three young winter squashes gherkin
two cherries Qor bright color, and seventeen
full-grown cockroaches, all apparently pros
pecting for nests wherein to go to work and
hatch more. / should say that cockroach is
the vulgar for garnet-beetles.
concluded that 7 would prefer poems
the hunt for, metaphorically speaking, SER
mon in prose in the way of bonnet, but they
are all ''wergin" on poetry, for on each and
all found the same collection of bugs and
beasts. fruits and vegetables, and one dear
cunning little chipmunk; on another an owl,
and on many more lizards and other reptiles
TO say nothing of several with horseshoes in
miniature and other absurdities. I labored
all the afternoon, and at last, In state border
ing on insanity, took bonnet with full
grown pumpkin-vine on it, with flowers, but
no frait. thought my head might possibly
fill that important mission.
was fired with aesthetic aspirations in the
way of Dress for found that for ones whole
happiness and delight one must be artistic or
nothing i'll the way of dress. wanted it for
the nrSt party OF the season Monsieur said:
Madame is demi-brunette and oh, le bon
hearl frail Che meant thin) and therefore it
would be work of pleasure to confectioner a
dress for madame. 1t must be exquisite, a
thing of beauty, crestion of high art, a
symphony in silks"
Symphony is new word in the dressmak-
er's art, 1 fancy, but it is so expressive that it
somehow takes away your breath aDd makes
you think you are going to be transported to a
seventh heaven of all delights and become the
envy of your sex. So blindly followed his
arguments as he threaded through the intri-
cacies 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
can distinctly remember that had tangible
sound was collage"
left there and went home bewildered but
still serene in the consciousness that Monsieur
knew what was right, and sure that he con-
sldered thin people far more artistically beau
tiful than others; and that, as am very thin,
must be more beautiful than anybody else,
unless it be the divine Sarah.
Well, the afternoon of the party NV dress
came home. My husband threw himself on
the sofa and calculated; "Oh, glory of glories,
Nalielujah!"
That was just about it,
The dress was a pale yellowish green or
greenish-yellow. put it on and slowly re-
yoved before the glass. The waist was tight,
the sleeves tighter, and the skirt was cut with
commcndahle economy in width, but was from
here to yonder in length, and the bottom was
one bewildering labyrinth of flounce, 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 some artist been at work with
pallet and brush, and found was to be a
sort OF walking bower, with a complement of
pale greenish birds among the flowers, and, to
crown all, some surplus silk had been twisted,
turned and Topped 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 of
the waist. looked for all the world like a
pea-vine gone to seed, with these hateful cab
bages stuck about as mockery of my former
glories, and rail seemed monster of obesity
beside my figure.
got tired of standing up under the running
fire of my husbands ridicule and my maid s
raptures, but found that there was no pos
slbility OF taking proper position, SO 1 had
TO adopt very languid attitude or stand.
Well, went to the party and in that dress,
and every one raved over my newly developed
aesthetic taste and remarked on NV new
gracefulness of pose, and believe 1 am the
rage, but why don't know. unless am a
symphony in color" and a skeleton in armor
too.