Category Archives: Frolics

The Gentleman at the Beach: 1903

 

MEN’S BATHING SUITS.

Two-Piece Affair Now the One Universally Accepted.

From the Haberdasher.

The man who swims and the man who suns will be better taken care of in the matter of raiment this coming summer than they have ever been. It is not many years since the average bathing costume was as hideous as it was uncomfortable, and man never appeared to worse advantage than he did when dressed for the beach. The old style one-piece suits of baglike form with their unsightly row of buttons down the front and their very peculiar striped patterns have been finally retired in favor of garments that not only fit perfectly, but that are comfortable, and to most men at least, becoming. At the seaside resorts bathing and beach lounging are now accepted as the principal diversion and men and women have learned to appreciate costumes that while slightly and not vulgar possess those attributes which are essential to comfortable swimming. The two-piece suit is now universally accepted and the model is practically universal. The only points so far as difference is concerned lie in the sleeve lengths. The shirts are made with quarter sleeveless or sleeveless, the latter being the favorite style with the young men, and for that matter with all men who really swim. As the beach is located at some distance from the hotels and houses at the majority of seaside places, it has become customary for men to wear a gown over the bathing suit while walking from the house or hotel to the beach.

Heretofore the bath robe was considered good enough for this purpose, but this summer there has been put on the market a robe designed specially for beach wear. These robes are made of heavy mercerized Oxfords in neat striped or figured patterns in combinations of self and contrasting colors. The robes are quite long, reach to the ankles, and have a button at the neck. The collars are of the Eton form and moderately wide, and the sleeves are finished plain or with a raglan cuff. There is one pocket which is patched on on the left hip, and the girdle is made of the same material as the robe. The robes are cut full so that they can be wrapped about the figure, and being light in weight and of a smooth finish can be thrown on the sandy beach without injury. When a man has put on his bathing suit and sandals, he puts on his robe and then he may amble about the beach or walks to his heart’s content. When he emerges from his dip he spreads the beach robe out of the sand and sits or reposes on it. This keeps the sand off the body and admits of one’s drying clean, a process which is impossible if one dries off on the sand.

The improvements made in bathing suits have been as great in the matter of fit as of colors and combinations. There is a great deal of variety now, and the colors are all perfectly fast if good quality garments are bought. Navy blue continues to be the favorite color. Suits having this for a ground color are relieved by stripes on the sleeves, shirt and drawer ends of white, red or light blue. The sleeveless shirts have solid half-inch bands of color about the arm-hole. Broad striped shirts come in college colors and are generally worn with solid trunks.

One of the best-selling suits is of army gray, with relief stripes in red, white, blue or black. Another good suit shows fancy pattern stripes in one color, and others show the granite or mixed stripes in gray, red or blue.

The novelty of the season in bathing suits is the broad striped sleeveless shirt worn with the loose solid color trunks. The trunks have belt loops and through them is a white cotton belt with nickel snake buckle is passed. The shirt of this suit is tucked into the trunks. Another new idea is to have the monogram embroidered in colors on the left breast of the shirt.

Bathing sandals are made of white canvas, with canvas or leather soles, or they are made entirely of leather. The latter consists of a sole which is held on by straps after the manner of the old Roman sandals.

Evening Star [Washington DC] 9 May 1903: p. 25

Bathing shoes, c. 1910

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  There was a good deal of resentment from ladies at the comparative sartorial freedom for gentlemen at the beach. Some ladies said that if they had to wear stockings, the men should also be compelled to conceal their nether limbs.

Aroused at strict toggery laws enforced by the beach authorities with regard to the fair sex Mrs. H.B. Harrison, of Washington, in a letter delivered to Chief Surgeon Charles Bossert, head of the “beach patrol,” today says:

“The way men are allowed to parade the beach makes them repulsive. The girls, after all, have curves and attractions not at all disgusting when they are permitted to come out on the beach without stockings. Why can’t you say something about the awful looking men who parade around in nothing but a little scrap of a bathing suit, which fails utterly to cover their unsightly bodies?

“And their limbs are simply awful, full of knobs, and besides most men are bowlegged. Could anything be more unsightly? The men, not the girls, should be compelled to wear stockings, and long stockings at that, also something to cover up their arms and chests. Nobody wants to see them, and they only clutter up good-looking scenery.” Atlantic City Special.

The Bambert [SC] Herald 21 August 1919: p. 6

Gent’s bathing costume, 1877

 

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.

 

A Safe and Sane Fourth: 1911

 

Gee whiz! Don’t I wish every day wuz de fourth, E.W. Kemble, c. 1904 http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2010717080/

Mrs. Jarr Lays Plans for a Safe and Sane Fourth.

Does She Succeed? Poor Woman! Just Listen Now

By Roy L. McCardell.

“I really ought not to open this till to-morrow,” said Mrs. Jarr, as with reluctant hands she started to undo the package that had aroused so much interest upon its arrival, per c.o.d. delivery, at the Jarr domicile.

“But you said you would, maw! You said you would!” chorused the little Jarrs.

“Well, as its near dinner time, I suppose I might as well,” said Mrs. Jarr. “I only know this: That is that it is a good idea. And if we had done it before it would have been much better for all concerned. For it really is terrible the way the children get burned and injured by those dreadful fireworks on the Fourth of July, and that is why I heartily agree with Miss Ann Teak of ‘The Modern Mothers,’ in her advocacy of a Safe and Sane Fourth, and the substitution of objects symbolic of freedom and patriotism for dangerous explosives.”

“But, maw, ain’t we gonna have any firecrackers?” whined the little boy. “I never burned myself except with sizzors and they didn’t hurt.”

“May Rangle has got a whole lot of fire trackers,” said the little Jarr girl. “I’m doin’ over to her house and we are doin’ to tie ‘em on the tat’s tail.”

“Emma!” cried Mrs. Jarr reprovingly.

“I agree with the children,” said Mr. Jarr, “Not with hurting or scaring of the poor cat, of course; yet I think that it’s a lot of mollycoddles who would deprive the children of making a little harmless racket on the Fourth. Safe and Sane Fourth! Huh, I think it’s a tame and timid one without firecrackers!” 

“Now, there you go! Inciting the children to all sorts of dreadful things!” remarked Mrs. Jarr plaintively. “It’s no wonder I have a hard time inculcating refinement in these innocent little lambs! Miss Ann Teak told me of an orphan child on the east side who said he would rather have ice cream any day than firecrackers.”

By this time Mrs. Jarr had the strings off the package and the box open, disclosing a mass of gayly colored paper objects. She contented herself with giving Master Jarr a reproving look for his heretical observations and began placing the colored paper things on the table.

They were napkin holders in the shape of firecrackers, the napkins being rice paper ones in the semblance of American flags. There were also scalloped streamers of red, white and blue, which Mrs. Jarr proceeded to drape from the chandelier over the dining room table.

“There!” she said, as she fastened them up. ‘See how beautiful and patriotic these pretty but harmless things make the table for a Fourth of July dinner! Your Aunt Emma, after whom you are named” (here she was addressing the little girl), “always has her table decorated so prettily that it gives one an appetite to see it. It is true that she never has anything much to eat, but one forgets that. On Washington’s Birthday she has little hatchets and cherries, and Thanksgiving Day she has little toy paper turkeys and paper pumpkins and witches’ hats and you forget how slim the meal is.” 

“Aw, is this all, maw?” inquired the boy, regarding the table decorations with disdain. “Ain’t we gonna have any fireworks to-morrow?”

“You can have some torpedoes, which are not dangerous, and some of those sparklers, that look so pretty and do not do any damage,” replied Mrs. Jarr. “But you won’t have a single thing if you are not a good boy and say you are grateful to mamma for getting these pretties. And here are fans with pictures on them showing ‘The Spirit of ‘76’ and the “Signing of the Declaration of Independence,” she added.

“Aw, you can’t make any noise with a fan! Who wants a fan!” cried Young Hopeful, and he screwed up his face in an energetic endeavor to cry.

“I like de fans, div ‘em ta ME, mamma!” cried the little girl. “Anyway I can shoot off Mary Rangle’s fire crackers to-morrow.”

“Now, Willie, if you say one word more you shan’t have any supper and you shan’t have any ice cream to-morrow and you shall never be permitted to go to the moving pictures,” cried Mrs. Jarr, warningly. “We are going to have a Safe and Sane Fourth in this house without any injuries and without any danger of fires!”

But she spoke too soon. The napkin holders looked so greatly like cannon fire crackers that Master Jarr had touched a lighted match to the imitation fuse. It flared up and caught the paper streams from the chandelier and the next minute there was a blaze.

Mr. Jarr got the fire out with such minor personal damage as burned eyelashes and scorched hands. It is likely that the unsafe and insane Fourth will transpire, as usual, to-morrow at the Jarr’s.

The Evening World [New York NY] 3 July 1911: p. 8

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: The unheeded plea for a “Safe and Sane Fourth” went out every year.  Dire casualties from fireworks mounted yearly, despite desperate diversions by hostesses who entertained their “Independence Party” guests at daintily decorated tables:

The house was beautifully decorated with crimson rambler roses, blue larkspurs, and white flowers, large eagles of crepe paper, flags, and national colors. After a short program of patriotic songs and humorous readings, the hostess passed pencils and papers with the words “Independence Day,” from which we were to make as many words as possible. After this we were given a paper flag with stripes on, but with the place for stars left blank; around the two parlors were tacked up on the wall pictures of well-known people, actors, authors, and political leaders. We guessed these “stars” and wrote their names in the blank spaces.

The next event was the luncheon, served at small tables. Place cards were hand-painted miniature Uncle Sams, and blue and white china and cut glass were used. Each plate contained pressed chicken and a peanut butter sandwich, both cut in star shape, potato salad on a lettuce leaf, a beet pickle, cheese straws, and a spray of blue flowers. At the end of this course each lady was presented with what appeared to be a four-inch firecracker, but upon unwrapping, it was found to contain a short comical story. Woman’s Home Companion 1913: p. 99

Mrs Daffodil concedes that pretty paper decorations and comical firecrackers would undoubtedly lack the pyrotechnic panache enjoyed by Mr and Master Jarr.

Still, one would not wish to be May Rangle’s cat.

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.

 

Home from the Wedding Tour: 1902

The Wedding Tour.

“So you are back from your wedding trip, Beth,” said Beatrice, cordially. “Did you have a pleasant time?”

“An unusual one, at least,” replied Beth. “At least I hope so. I should hate to think my experience could be repeated in every town where my husband ever lived when he was a bachelor.”

“Go on, dear!” exclaimed Beatrice. “This sounds interesting.”

“First,” Beth began, “let me give you some advice. Never visit in a town where your husband, when you have one, is well-acquainted and you are not, especially if you hail from a city like Chicago. The inhabitants never forgive a man who ignores the village girls to marry a non-native—or, rather, they never forgive the designing creature who permits him to throw himself away on her. They always pity him from the bottom of their hearts, for they feel sure that he was deeply attached to Susan Smith or Betsey Jones. There is never any doubt in their minds that the bold, scheming city girl ‘roped him in,’ as they say.”

“Mercy! How could they say such a thing of you, of all girls?”

“Well, one day shortly after we reached this former home of Ted’s we went, just for exercise, down to the railway station with Ted’s brother Jack, who was going to the next town for a day on business. The train was a half hour late, and the boys went outside to smoke and chat, while I was soon deeply interested in a magazine that I had just bought. Presently three pretty, rosy-looking girls came in, all laughing and talking at once. You know every one who happens to be downtown within an hour or so of train time has to go to the station to see the train come in. These girls seated themselves on the bench nearest the window overlooking the platform, and I settled back to meditate loftily on the narrowness of the life those girls led.

“But my meditations were doomed to come to a sudden end, at least along that particular line, for as Ted and Jack sauntered past the window with their heads well down and enjoying a good, old-fashioned visit, one girl, whom the others called Blanche, exclaimed, ‘If there isn’t Ted Fowler!’ I felt a little indignation at the familiar tone she used. That indignation grew steadily for a few moments in view of the fact that those girls sat there admiring and praising him—giggling and blushing over my own Teddy.

“’Did you know he was married?’ asked one of the three, whose name appeared to be Edith..

“’Yes, poor fellow,’ replied the third girl. ‘Too bad, too! You know he was dead in love with Blanche. Wasn’t he, Blanche?’

“I hoped Blanche would deny this and ease my mind, for she was undeniably a very pretty girl and might have been quite a witch in her own way. But she only said, modestly. ‘Oh, yes, I suppose he was. He used to tell me so often enough, goodness knows!’

“‘How ever could you endure it?’ asked Beatrice.

“Endure it! Why I was simply speechless with rage by that time. My Teddy telling any other girl that he loved her and that ‘often enough, goodness knows’ just kept going round and round in my mind. I could have cried with disappointment in Teddy.

“But that isn’t all. Edith volunteered the information that Ted had married, ‘an awful extravagant thing and ugly as mud.’ Then, probably aided by the expression on my face, it seemed to strike them that I was the extravagant, ugly thing. I suppose I answered the description accurately.

“‘Two of them were really very much embarrassed by the discovery, but Blanche tossed her pretty head in a saucy fashion that seemed to maintain that it was true just the same.

“I feel sure I should have said something then had it not been for Teddy, who opened the door and asked me if I was finding it dull. ‘Oh, no,’ I said. ‘I have just been admiring the only girl you ever loved.’ Ted glanced at the girls, then laughed and said, ‘You must have found a mirror in this dingy old place.’ And, would you believe it, he didn’t even remember Blanche, who claimed to be his long lost love.”

“Ted is wonderfully discreet,” said Beatrice, softly.

The Leavenworth [KS] Times 2 September 1902: p. 7

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: What would a wedding tour be without some sort of misadventure to relate humorously to one’s children and grand-children? See these posts: Shuffling Off to Buffalo, A Honeymoon Adventure, and Pants and All, She’s Still my Wife for more honeymoon calamities.

Mrs Daffodil hopes that “Teddy” continued to be as discreet throughout a long and happy married life with his rage-filled bride.

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.

 

A Wealthy Widow Weds a Ghost: 1894

 

 

 

MARRIED TO A SPOOK

WEALTHY WIDOW BECOMES A GHOST’S BRIDE

UNCANNY STORY FROM THE ONSET SPIRITUALISTS

The Bangs Sisters, May and Lizzie, Continue to Startle the Peaceful Residents of a Massachusetts Town—

The Spirit Bridegroom.

Onset, Mass., Special to Inter-Ocean.

May Bangs, one of the Bangs sisters, materializing mediums and slate writers of Chicago, now at Onset Bay, declares positively and without any provisos that a person in flesh and blood in this life could be married to a materialized spirit. She declares that a woman from the west, a woman of wealth, had been married to her spirit lover in the very room in which she sat.

Charming May Bangs and her sister, the great spiritualists, who, when at home, reside in Chicago, have lately startled the natives of Onset, Mass., This statement means more than might appear on the surface when it is added that the little town is almost wholly made up of spiritualists. Thither the Bangs sisters hied themselves some weeks ago to take part in the summer assembly of the eastern societies. They made their headquarters at Happy Home cottage, where they were daily visited by pilgrims in search of friends and relatives long since in the “other world.” Among those visitors was a rich widow from the far west, who wanted to see her lover, how had been a captain in the United States army. The captain, who came from Maryland, died on the eve of his marriage to the rich widow. For a year she has worn widow’s weeds and longed for even a visit from the spirit of her departed lover. Miss Bangs informed her that she could not only produce the captain’s spirit, but that the marriage ceremony that had been cut off by death would be performed in Happy Home cottage. A few days ago an item was given out for publication to the effect that the ceremony had been effectually performed some days before. In speaking of it, May Bangs said:

“I materialized the form,” she said, “and the lover came out of the cabinet attired in the uniform of an army officer. The premises had been previously examined to prove that there was no mortal about. The materialized spirit asked that the curtains be drawn for a while to shut off the front parlor. The bride wanted him to put on her slippers and he did.

“Only a faint light shone through the room where the minister and others were waiting. He kissed her numerous times. The bride was in a new wedding dress. Then the materialized spirit lover requested that the marriage ceremony be performed and the request was granted. He placed a ring on her finger. They were together a long time that evening.” The reporter who investigated the spiritual marriage had heard from other sources of such a matrimonial event and from two different persons he had heard that the woman in the case was from the west, that she was wealthy, well-educated and a woman of refinement. She is said to be a firm believer in spiritualism and has long know the Bangs sisters, Lizzie and May. She is about 35, short in stature, plump in form and dresses elegantly. Another account of the wedding from the lips of one who claims to have possession of facts, is this:

“On the night of Aug. 8, which was Wednesday, everything was ready for this strange ceremony, and the wedding party, consisting of about half a dozen persons, was within the walls of ‘Happy Home’ cottage, which is but a few rods distant from the grove where all the big spiritualistic meetings are held. Miss ___, who was to be married to one who had passed away, had purchased flowers and with her own hands had decorated the rooms. Curtains covered the windows just as at a séance. A single dim light was burning in the parlor, just a candle in a box, the tiny flame being subdued by blue glass.

“Lizzie Bangs and the minister were to be seen in this room next to the street, surrounded by the floral display of ferns and lilies. A cheese cloth had been hung across the double doorway which led into the cabinet-room behind.

“May Bangs came tripping down the stairs and entered the dark little apartment where the spirits first made their appearance. She was followed by the bride, who took a seat in the cabinet-room and awaited the appearance of the sprit who was to become her husband. May Bangs materialized the form of a late captain of the army, who in life hailed from Maryland.

“An ordained minister then went through the marriage service, and at the close declared the couple to be husband and wife. When the minister, who is a woman, at present in Vermont, finished, she was heard to say that she hoped it was really a materialized spirit that was married, for if it was a man in earth life he was married sure enough.”

It is rumored that when the Bangs sisters start for Chicago on Monday two young men will go with them. one of these young men, who struck Onset with only $2 in his pocket, has been spending money lavishly of late.

“I’ve stuck a snap,” he said to a reporter. “I am going to Chicago with May Bangs, but I’m going to get $20 in my fist before I start, or I don’t go. I’ve had a promise of $15 and week and my board bill. Have you heard of the spirit marriage? It took place all right. The spirit groom was George—Capt. George__. They wanted me to put on a uniform and represent the groom, but I was out with May once, and Miss__ bobbed up suddenly and May had to introduce me to her, so the girl knew who I was.”

The strange marriage has been the talk of Onset for some time, but as most of those there are deep-dyed spiritualists they think it nothing unusual.

RECALLS PREVIOUS NUPTIALS.

New York, Aug. 26. [This case] The Onset Bay spook wedding recalls with a difference the famous marriage in the family of the late George D. Carroll, once of Dempsey & Carroll, stationers, who wasted much of his substance on a medium named Fanny Stryker. Carroll has lost a young son, and, though the medium never materialized the youth for him, she did act as priestess in a “spirit marriage” between the boy and “Bright Eyes,” a ghost with no family name. Elaborately engraved invitations for the ceremony were sent out and the priestess officiated in white uncut velvet. The elder Carroll died recently in comparative poverty and the medium buried him.

Dallas [TX] Morning News 9 September 1894: p. 5 and The Fort Wayne [IN] Sentinel 10 September 1894: p. 4

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  Such “spirit marriages” were a regrettable and venal feature of Victorian spiritualism; they usually ended in tears, lawsuits, or an asylum. Lawyers would have difficulty in untangling the legal status of the young man who played the dead Captain George, although the lady parson, wittingly or unwittingly, seems to have voiced an obvious truth. There was still the question of who signed the wedding licence and, in the United States, unlike France and China, marriages between the living and the dead are not sanctioned.

That person wearing orange blossoms over at the Haunted Ohio blog has written about a gentleman who married his late sweetheart in Cincinnati and a rather stingy bridegroom who foolishly thought that he could save on household expenses by marrying a spirit bride.

 

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.

 

 

The Wedding Pest: 1915

Unwelcome Wedding Guests

June—magic month of blossoms, of dreams, fulfilled and yet to be, is upon us and with it comes the ever lovely bride and the negligible bridegroom, the not always lovely wedding and the wholly unlovely “Wedding Fan.” Not your sweet-scented, delicate bit of lace and ivory, dangling from the arm of the bride, or in a moment of fluttering consciousness, serving to shield her blushes from a too-curious world. Oh, dear no! Nothing of the sort!

The “Wedding Fan” is a pest, an unmitigated, unadulterated nuisance, from the standpoint of those on the “inside,” at least, a public peeping-tom, a beast of prey, a vulgar pushing person to whom the sight of a striped awning outside the portals of a city church is the signal for commencement of his machinations.

Aye, more! He needs no striped canvas, no splash of scarlet velvet reaching across the pavement to start him on his journey of impertinence. Two lines in the penny paper of a June morning, and presto! The germ is alive, crying for quick liberation.

“The marriage of Miss Claribel Astor Vanderbilt, only daughter of Townsend DeLancy Vanderbilt, to Mortimer Spuyten Duyvil Tuxedo will be solemnized at the Fifth Avenue Church of the Apostles on Wednesday next at 4 o’clock.”

This is sufficient to awaken the germ in the “Wedding Fan” and cause it to demand to be taken out for a little exercise. Mostly it is a female germ, keen with the heritage of Pandora, for insinuating itself into forbidden places.

Sex curiosity, desire to borrow a thrill form the joyous exaltation of the young bride, a yearning to gaze on the trappings of a world in which she plays no part, to discern wherein lies the difference between her Eighth avenue “steady” and the titled fiancé of the Fifth avenue heiress, are some motives. And the ‘igher the contractin’ parties, the keener the appetite for the ‘umble fan or faness for a “nose-in” at the show.

“Nose-in,” “toes-in,” any-way-to-get-in, is the motto of your chronic wedding “ug,” to whom invitations are never counted among the requisites of sightseeing in High Society. The fashionable church wedding, calling for “cards of admittance,” has a lure all its own to one of these cratures of the polished brass front crew.

Imperturbable, rebuff-proof, case-hardened against mere insults from minions, these determined devotees of Hymen, who by no other means than plain larceny could possibly put their thumb-prints on the precious, engraved (they feel of it to see) pasteboard, yet somehow find their devious way, trusting to miracle or lie for an open-sesame, past of the police, past the ushers, up the aisle and sometimes e’en to the sacrosanct precincts of the “family pew.”

At a Fifth avenue wedding a fortnight since, a handsome, dignified “grand dame” and her pretty “daughter,” both impeccably attired, were halted at the church door on their failure to produce the proper passports.

The “mother’s” first cue was pretense at not understanding and with supercilious eyebrow at the delay, swept on toward the centre aisle. Usher No. 2 tapped her on the arm, meaning, “Come across, or right-about-face.” Did she weep? Oh, none of such!

Instead a great indignation inspired her and “daughter” added her pretty protest, not a bit overdone. Finally when the old dear found her progress permanently impeded, she condescended to open her dangling opera bag and search for those “really quite unnecessary cards.” Daughter joined in the quest and both exchanged ostentatious glances of puzzled (sic) dismay when the cards remained “hid out.”

“Why, mother dear, I saw them in the limousine,” said “daughter,” but the ushers had ushered before—“no card, no see.” By this time groups of bidden guests, holding crested credentials, who had been pouring forth from motors, were frothing at the mouth.

“Why, I went to school with her mother,” protested the “grand dame” as the bride’s party went in but a few feet away. “Little Gladys here is such a friend of the groom’s. Surely we can have seats without those stupid cards.”

Surely they couldn’t! The suspicious ushers, who possessed the instincts of headquarters detectives, with quiet but firm pressure on the shoulder, escorted those who had attempted to “horn in” to the vestibule, where the angry views of both became audible and culminated in a tirade of Bowery blasphemy, at the ushers, the bride, her parents and grandparents, the church and all future functions of the “Upper Ten.”

“Can you beat it?” asked the ushers.

From all walks of life come the “Wedding Fans.” With some, insatiable curiosity for all doings of the “beau monde,” seems congenital to all ages, they are on the “qui vive” at the first notice of any function, whether wedding or funeral. These are the morbidly curious, and omnipresent as the innocent bystanders, always to be found, an anticipatory foot across the “dead line.”

Philadelphia [PA] Inquirer 27 June 1915: p. 1

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: The gawking multitudes were always present at the Society Wedding, hence the introduction of “pew cards,” as they are called, to keep out the uninvited. Mrs Daffodil understands that they are now called wedding “crashers,” which suggests an assertive lady in a fascinator carrying a battering ram.  Well-trained ushers usually kept the Wedding Pest at bay, but occasionally an unwelcome guest slipped by:

NO IMPEDIMENT.

An Objection to a Wedding Ceremony That Was Overruled.

A popular politician tells a story about one of his electioneering campaigns. He had arrived about noon at a certain small station. He started out after dinner for a walk about the village, on the outskirts of which he came upon a building thronged with people.

The building was a church, and a wedding was about to take place. He edged his way through the crowd until he reached a spot where he had a good view of the bride and bridegroom and the clergyman who was about to perform the ceremony.

The church was packed, with the exception of a low, dark gallery near the roof. This was apparently deserted.

The minister proceeded with the ceremony until he came to the point where custom required him to pause and inquire if there was any one present who knew any reason why the couple should not be made husband and wife. A hush fell upon the assemblage and every one waited in breathless suspense. Something of a sensation was caused when a voice came from the upper gallery, saying:

“Yes, I do.”

All eyes were turned to the gallery where, seated all alone in the gloom, barely discernible, was a meek-looking little man, with a haggard face and disheveled hair. After the clergyman had recovered from his surprise he said sternly, “State your reason, sir!”

The suspense was turned to merriment by the little man’s reply:

“I want the girl myself,” he said.

Harrisburg [PA] Daily Independent 1 September 1909: p. 4

In this case of a bridal veil imposture, an uninvited guest saved the day.

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.

 

A Sensible Wedding Shower: 1914

A 1914 gown perhaps in the style worn by our thrifty bride. https://www.augusta-auction.com/search-past-sales?view=lot&id=17788&auction_file_id=46

Why Not A Society for Promotion of Useful Giving

People are getting more sensible each year in the selection of wedding gifts, still the bride receives many things she has little use for and less room.

Here is the story of how one wise mother used her influence in such a manner that the gifts were of the greatest possible help.

The young woman was employed in a department store. The man received only a moderate salary. They decided to have a plain wedding and no trip and own a home from the start. To this end both saved.

The girls who worked with the young woman went to her mother and asked advice in regard to a present. The mother suggested a gold dollar shower. This was given at the home of one of the girls.

Each girl gave $2.

In the center of the table was a jointed doll dressed in dollar bills. On her arm was a tiny basket filled with gold dollars. At the place of the bride-to-be was a “salad,” consisting of gold dollars on lettuce leaves. She was told there were more of the gold pieces hidden about the room and she must hunt for them. The girls called “hot” or “cold,” as she neared the hiding places or wandered away, just as children play “hide the thimble.”

Two brothers of the groom-to-be had the house provided with screens and awnings and furnished the porch.

One aunt provided table linen, another the bed linen. The groom’s father and mother furnished the living room. The bride’s parents furnished the dining room and kitchen.

An uncle of the groom ordered $25 worth of staple groceries stored in the larder. Other friends gave odd pieces, according to the amount they wished to expend. The bride’s grandparents gave her a jewel case containing five $20 gold pieces.

One old lady who loved the girl, but had little but love to give, made a very satisfactory gift at little cost. There are always uses for old linens and odd pieces in a home, and in the home where everything is new these are scarce. So this old lady made up bundles of linens for various uses. Soft pieces for burns and cuts; large pieces with tapes attached for the ironing board; old pieces of table linen in various sizes, hemmed to use in the kitchen for wrapping things to be put away and for use in bread and cake boxes; soft pieces for dish towels, holders and the many uses which only a housewife will appreciate.

A country relative sent canned fruits and jellies. Another ham and other prepared meats, also two dozen young chickens were housed in a neat new coop.

The wedding was a simple home affair. The bride wore a white dress of embroidered voile, which would be of service after. The only extravagance was veil and wreath, and she thought she could not feel ‘bridey” without these. Simple buffet refreshments were served.

There was no lavish display of wedding gifts—they were all in the new home—but, oh, how much more these things meant to that young couple than tables loaded with silver and cut glass.

Plain Dealer [Cleveland OH] 14 June 1914: p. 68

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Mrs Daffodil was charmed with the idea to give bundles of old linen as a shower gift. Thrifty, useful, and there is no question of duplicates or exchanges. What would be the modern equivalent—an “Amazon” subscription for paper towels?

We can scarcely accuse the young lady of wanton extravagance for wanting a wreath and veil to feel “bridey,” but hope that the groom prized his prudent bride above rubies. One is optimistic that the sensible young couple lived happily ever after and that the young chickens in their neat coop were the foundation of an economically sound future.

A simple, yet “bridey” wreath and veil for the 1914 bride.

For a previous post on this timely subject see Hints for Bridal Showers.

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.

 

Mrs Daffodil on Flowers

A miniature flower painting by Jan Frans van Dael, mounted as a brooch. http://webapps.fitzmuseum.cam.ac.uk/explorer/index.php?qu=jewellery&oid=156467

Since the Family is away on holiday over the week-end, Mrs Daffodil is taking this opportunity to take a brief holiday of her own, possibly paying a visit to the Chelsea Flower Show and returning, refreshed, Wednesday next.

She has posted on floral themes many times, so, to while away the hours for those of Mrs Daffodil’s readers who will be counting the moments until a new post appears, here are some posts pertinent to the topic of flowers.

Strange Flower Superstitions of Many Lands

Queen Adelaide’s Flower-Acrostic Dress

The Wild-Flower Wedding

A Miniature Matterhorn and Gnome Miners

Funeral Flowers for Young Helen

Napoleon and the Gardener

A very recent post: The Black Rose

And Mrs Daffodil’s favourite gardening story, “The Occasional Garden,” by Mr H. H. Munro [Saki]

Mrs Daffodil wishes all of her readers a delightful and restful week-end with well-filled picnic hampers and unclouded blue skies.

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.