Seven o’clock is breakfast hour and means mules fashioned from soft, red leather.
Eight o’clock is hiking time and time to wear high-laced cordovan boots.
Nine o’clock and the morning’s canter to show the English riding boots.
Ten o’clock marks the beginning of golf, best played in gray and white leather sport shoes.
Eleven o’clock brought a hurried trip up town and the white linen, black leather-trimmed oxfords just matched a black voile frock.
Twelve o’clock is luncheon time, so white embroidered slippers were chosen to accompany a maize linen dress.
One o’clock on a cool day suggested a dark crepe dress and black patent slippers with a pleasing cut pattern on the toe and instep.
Two o’clock and afternoon bridge. Pink chiffon frock and dainty white kid slippers with the popular instep strap.
Three o’clock is reception hour. White kid slipper with unusual trimming in patent black leather made quite a hit.
Four o’clock is the hour for garden parties and white kid French shoes with cuff of green leather and bow of white ribbon were as cool as the garden.
Five o’clock–tea at the hotel–drooping black hat–lace gown and snappiest of footwear in black patent slippers with rosettes of ribbon and beads.
Six o’clock–time to dress for dinner and theater and dance–time to don brocaded slippers of silver brocade.
The Washington [DC] Times 23 July 1922: p. 25
Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Frankly, Mrs Daffodil does not know even quick-change artistes who wear this many outfits in a day.
Mrs Daffodil would add just a few more to the list of essential footwear:
1 a.m.–feet slipped from silver brocade evening slippers under the night-club or supper-room table–swollen from a riotous evening of dancing.
2 a.m.–gum-shoes for lady cat-burglars or those hoping to avoid awkward questions from waiting parents or spouses.
3 a.m.–comfy woolen bed-socks to send one quickly off to slumberland, so one can rise for a hearty breakfast around noon. The red leather mules will then be deployed, while the hiking boots and riding boots are shoved under the bed or to the back of the wardrobe. Eight o’clock “hiking time?” One thinks not.
Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes
You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.