Category Archives: shopping

Bargaining for a Bonnet: 1890

 

New York, Jan. 8. The woman with a genius for bargains is now in her element. All the shops have reduced their winter stock that they may be rid of it and bring in the spring one, and she who gazed longingly at a Virot bonnet, who sighed and went away, looked and longed, now may possess it and her soul in delight and at very little cost. In parentheses, I would like to say that the cost refers to her bonnet, as she is quite too nice a woman to have her soul on sale.

Some woman body says: “I have $10 that I may spend on a bonnet—I scorn any but a French one—therefore, I shall beard the lion in his den, go to the most chic of milliners and get what I want.” Does she go in her shabby clothes? Dear no; she would get nothing cheap if she did that. She wears her smartest get up, and she enters the shop as if she were a millionaire, instead of a daughter of toil, who gets her bonnets by her glibness of pen. The ideal bonnet is simple, but is chic, it is quiet and it comes from Virot. She looks and longs, but she realizes that now is her time to be diplomatic.

The smiling saleswoman is asked how much it is. “Thirty-five dollars,” she responds, “reduced from $50.” Then a request is made that madame will try it on. “Oh, no,” says she, “it is scarcely worth while; I do not intend to pay that much for a bonnet, and it will be only taking up your time.” However, after some persuasion, she yields. It is found becoming, and the milliner dilates upon its harmony, its beauty, and its cheapness. Madame quietly removes it, and says, “It is very cheap, but are you thinking or remembering that this is midwinter; that you have gotten probably 10 times the value of that bonnet in the copies you have made from it, and that in two weeks from now there will be absolutely no sale for it, as you will have to have your spring goods on exhibition?” This is practical common-sense that appeals to the milliner and a jump to $25 is made at once. The would-be buyer again comes out with a bit of truth. Says she, “I like the bonnet—I think it cheap, but I have just so much money to put into a bonnet, and not one more cent can I give.” The price then goes down to $15. By this time madam is arrayed in the bonnet in which she appeared and tells the milliner that she thanks her very much for her kindness and that as her things are all so pretty she will be certain to come in when she has her spring opening. Quickly she is asked, “How much will you give?” She says $10 in cash.” As a last straw the milliner suggests that she pay $8 and let $7 stand on account; but Madame is too old a shopper for this. Ten dollars or nothing. She has reached the door; she is almost out when she is stopped, and after all this diplomatic manoeuvring the milliner has $10, she has the bonnet, and both are satisfied. Cheat the milliner? Certainly not. What she said in the first place was absolutely true. Profit comes in the copying of the French bonnet and not in the sale of it, and this is perfectly well known both by good buyers and good milliners.

St. Louis [MO] Republic 11 January 1890: p. 9

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Mrs Daffodil appends the above story as an inspiration to any lady who has not yet got her hat for Ascot or, if an American reader, for this week-end’s “Kentucky Derby.”

copies paris hats inter ocean 26 april 1903 p 15

From a 1903 Chicago newspaper.

The copying of French goods was, of course, common-place. In the press, one finds literally thousands of advertisements offering copied Parisian goods; a typical specimen of which is seen above. Milliners were also not above adding a French label to their “exclusive” models.  Neither were young ladies averse to basting a label pilfered from a designer hat into a “loving hands at home” creation, as in this story of an Easter bonnet. On the other hand, this young lady lost by her duplicity in adding a Parisian label.  Mrs Daffodil hopes that all of her hat-wearing readers may drive as stringent a bargain as the lady above, so that they may attend the races serene in the knowledge that their hat is the exclusive and genuine article.

 

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.

 

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The Ins and Outs of Spring-Cleaning: 1917

mopping the floor.JPG

OUR CLUB DIARY

We Discuss the Ins and Outs of Spring Cleaning
By the Secretary

Do you suppose our men-folks are waking up to the fact that the science of housekeeping has taken a big new stride and that the long season of turmoil and hard work and general crossness we used to call spring cleaning is clear out of date? We women are only just growing aware of it ourselves. When the men really sense the fact I expect they’ll add a new Thanksgiving Day to the calendar.

We decided, by way of experiment, to make a change in the method of carrying out our program and to conduct it as a discussion with a leader who should start things and sound the keynote. She was also expected to link the prepared talks together, fill in the chinks, preside over a free-for-all discussion after the papers were read and sum things up at the close. Quite a responsible job, wasn’t it?

We had a clever woman to do it, though, when Lena Morgan took hold, for she is not only a neat and systematic housekeeper who knows a lot about cleaning, but a short career as a school-teacher taught her to use her wits and voice readily when she stands before folks. We appointed seven other women to give ten-minute talks on house-cleaning topics and asked them to confer with Lena so as to keep their ideas in harmony with the general spirit of the topic of the afternoon.

It was one of those early spring days which don’t mean anything, really, but make you think that perhaps spring may be on the way. The ground was soft and there was a gentle warmth in the air when one stood in the doorway; our heavy winter coats felt burdensome when we walked out. Such a day is like a letter from spring to tell us she has started north. It made us feel like furbishing up our homes in welcome. I knew when our club women came into the house for the meeting that they were in a mood for our program.

Nine Things to Remember.

Lena began briskly by reading a group of rules, explaining them as she went along. Here they are:

Keep clean and you won’t have to make a grand annual effort to get clean.

Keep no rubbish about the house-especially moth-collectors.

Pots and pans should be scoured whenever they need it and not be saved up for a tiresome orgy of cleaning.

Keep a list of repairs and of things which need replacing, as you discover them.

The renovating of walls, floors and woodwork can be left until the fires are out.

Don’t tear up more than one room at a time if it can be avoided.

Don’t try to do more than a day’s work in a day.

Have a helper for heavy jobs— and save a doctor’s bill.

Keep comfortable and keep your family comfortable.

Lena used the blackboard to write down a list of the things which could be put to rights early, at any convenient time. I noticed on this list the cleaning of the attic, closets and trunks, sewing machine and dresser drawers.

The Family’s Comfort

When all the fires were out and the housewife wished to clear out the last signs of the smoke and dirt of winter she could tear up a single room at a time, clean and settle it in a day with the least possible stir and disorder. Lena asserted that the housekeeper who kept her house up properly did not need to find spring house cleaning a heavy burden and that a house which had to be cleaned up by a great upheaval was either run on an out-of-date plan or was kept in a slovenly fashion. Everyone shrugged and rustled and whispered as she said it.

I’m sure few men will believe that we gave any time to the topic of how to keep the family comfortable during house cleaning, but we did. The speaker told us in practical detail how to organize our work so as to clean and settle a room in a day. Then she recommended that we serve especially generous and nourishing meals during spring cleaning instead of the usual slighted and scanty ones. Such a plan would refresh the workers and keep the family good-natured too. We copied down a list of foods which could be cooked up in advance, such as good, rich soup stock, a pudding or two, baked beans, scalloped potatoes and macaroni and cheese, as well as some meats and a big jar of cookies.

“Who says housekeeping isn’t a real business?” whispered my neighbor as we listened to a clear-cut talk on the uses and benefits of an inventory of household goods. The speaker showed us the various lists of her family belongings, posted on a card index and fitted neatly into a wooden box. On a card marked silver was a list of the family silver; the best set of china, the everyday set and miscellaneous dishes each had a card. If dishes were broken after they were listed that fact was noted.

I saw a list of kitchen utensils and one of cans of fruit and of glasses of jelly. Wasn’t that a clever idea? Then a housewife could keep track of how much the family can use each year, and the cost of canning it. Table linen, with notes about patterns, was on still another card, together with the cost and date of purchase, whenever she knew it: Towels had their card and so had bed linen. The bedding, with details and the place where unused bedding was stored, was listed on other cards. There was a fine inventory of family clothing, its cost, and other items. We were told that friendly small things were stored together in boxes and an inventory told just where to find them. It made me envious. If I’d had such a system in my house I wouldn’t have needed to rummage through all my boxes and trunks last week when I tried to find some old embroidered trimming for my dressmaker.

There was a great clatter of brushes and cans and a clicking of bottles when Annie Morris came to the front to talk on cleaning equipment. Annie tackled her subject with all the zest of a canvasser displaying his wares and showed us a lot of clever contraptions in the way of labor-saving devices. She wrote out a list of the equipment she recommended, and told us to have it ready for use in advance of the spring-cleaning period.

I mean to have a wool brush like Annie’s for cleaning wall paper. But I’ll not pay a dollar for mine, for I’m sure I can make one to serve the purpose. All I’ll need will be a piece of cleaned sheep’s pelt and a block to tack it on to and an old broom handle fastened to the block. I don’t know any short cut by which I can get hold of a dust brush such as painters use, except by planking down the money. Still, it will be worth buying for the clever way in which it licks the dust out of inaccessible cracks and corners.

Twenty minutes was allowed the speaker on Walls, Woodwork, Floors and Furniture, and she didn’t waste a minute. I can’t begin to repeat all she said, though all her listeners took pages of notes. She warned us that if woodwork needed cleaning it should be thoroughly done or the wood finish would be ruined. She then described three methods of cleaning finished wood. The first was cleansing with tepid suds made of a mild soap. No more than a yard of woodwork should be washed at a time; it should then be rinsed in clear warm water and dried thoroughly. The second method—one I like, myself, in spite of the horrid odor—is to clean with a cloth moistened with kerosene. The wood should finally be rubbed thoroughly with a clean cloth. . The third method—particularly good for white paint—is to clean with warm water, with whiting; the woodwork should then be carefully rinsed and dried. We were told that if we wanted to keep paint and varnish from cracking or growing powdery in the air it was wise to rub it once a year with paraffin oil. This treatment restores to the finish the oils it loses as it ages. Rubbing with linseed oil or with paraffin oil lengthens the life and saves the looks of linoleum.

We filled up two or three more pages of our notebooks as we listened to the talk on carpets, rugs, draperies and bedding. One suggestion seemed designed especially for me. I’ve been wanting a brown rug for my sitting room but couldn’t find it in my conscience to get it, for the old rug was sound though it was faded and ugly. It was a godsend to learn that I could dye the old rug myself by mixing up two or three packages of brown dye with the necessary hot water, according to package directions, and applying the color to the rug with a scrubbing brush. I’ll try a piece first before I plunge into the job, and I’ll lay the rug on a floor which can’t be hurt as I work.

When the discussion opened and Lena invited everyone to take part, a perfect babel of questions and remarks arose which Lena had to regulate and quell. As we adjourned, our hostess brought out her new vacuum cleaner and showed us how thoroughly it cleaned carpets and upholstered pieces so we could scarcely beat out the slightest dust from the fabrics afterward. Katy and Sarah and I live close together and we’ve just about decided to get one on shares. I figure I’ll about save the cost of my share when I dye my old rug so I won’t need a new one.

The Country Gentleman, Vol. 82, 31 March 1917: pp. 42-43

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Mrs Daffodil will not bore you with the byzantine details of Spring Cleaning at the Hall, which is always done when the Family is away. Suffice it to say that, although Mrs Daffodil attempts to follow the “keep clean” axiom above, there is always upheaval and invariably something more to do if one looks closely.  One year she was appalled to find that a negligent housemaid had dumped all of her sweepings into the Tudor chest in the entrance hall. Another year, a footman’s room was found to be over-run with vermin of every description; he and his room-mate had been in the habit of pocketing unused bits from the Family’s tea-tray; the remnants attracted an infestation that was most difficult to eradicate. His Lordship thoughtfully transferred the two onto the staff of the pig-man, rather than giving them the sack, but they quickly found more congenial employment.

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 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 Skirt for Nothing: 1903

pink satin post2

HOW A CLEVER WOMAN GOT A SKIRT FOR NOTHING

They entered the street car, en route to the matinee, with a swish of silk petticoats and happy in the possession of the latest creations in French millinery and this season’s models in feather muffs and boas.

“What do you think of my skirt?” asked one of them, glancing down at an affair in fancy novelty silk of the latest cut which she wore.

“A dream,” replied her companion, “I have been admiring it all along. You are certainly growing extravagant, dear.”
A look of satisfaction spread over the other woman’s countenance. She lowered her voice impressively, but not enough to prevent the other passengers in that end of the car from hearing. “It didn’t cost me a cent,” she said.

“A present! You lucky mortal. I wish I had a half a dozen sisters, cousins and aunts to give me lovely things once in a while!”

“Not a present, either. Just the luckiest chance in the world,” replied the owner of the skirt with increasing satisfaction in her voice. “You see, I went out Monday to buy a skirt. I wanted something rather smart for an afternoon, something like this, in fact; but I had been so liberal with my other clothes that I really didn’t see how I could afford one. I spent the entire morning trying to pick up a bargain, and finally I went to Jones & Smith’s. I have an account there, you know. Well, I couldn’t find a thing I would look at for less than twice what I was able to give, and as it was 1 o’clock and I was cross and worried and worn out, I decided to go into their lunch room and treat myself to something dainty and refreshing, just to cheer me up.

“Well, my dear, it was too fortunate. It had looked like rain that morning, and I had put on that old green skirt—you remember, part of the suit I had made to order last autumn.

“Well, as luck would have it, it was a new waitress who took my order. She was awkward and nervous, and as she was placing my tea on the table she stumbled and spilled the whole thing, cup and all, right into my lap.

“I didn’t even wait to eat lunch. I went right down to the office and complained. The men were extremely polite when they found out I had an account there. Besides they could see that the skirt was of expensive material, and somehow—I’m sure I didn’t say so—but somehow they seemed to be under the impression that it had been made last spring. Anyhow I told them that I considered it good for another season’s wear—which was true, if only I hadn’t been seen in it a whole season already—and that it belonged to a suit which had cost me $90, and that I thought they should at least make it good to me with another skirt. And it ended in my going back and getting this dream of a skirt for nothing. What do you think of that for luck?”

“But,” protested the other woman whose face had grown grave as she listened, “Didn’t the poor girl have to stand the cost of that skirt?”

“Oh—hm—well, now, I never thought of that. Perhaps she did have to pay something; but of course they would never have charged her with the whole price of that skirt. And, then, it was entirely her own awkwardness.”

“Of course, if she spoiled your skirt—“    her friend began, thoughtfully.

“Oh, my dear, that was the best part of it,” exclaimed the piece of selfishness incarnate, with a jubilant laugh. “The other skirt wasn’t spoiled at all. You see, it was only tea. And after it was sponged off and pressed one could never tell the difference.”

Great Falls [MT] Tribune 6 December 1903: p. 7

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  “Selfishness incarnate” rather unstates it…. The “poor girl” probably lost her job. She was awkward and nervous because she–the sole support of her invalid mother, drunkard father, and five brothers and sisters–had landed a job after many months of searching and was anxious to make a success of it. One can be sure that the store docked her pay for the full amount of that “dream” of a skirt, just as one can be sure that, feeling that nothing mattered any more, the former waitress either went on the bottle or on the streets. Fashionable clothes have been the ruination of many a good girl….

 

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.

Dandy Dogs: 1896

Dandy Dogs.

William G. FitzGerald

When you hear a man say he has “led the life of a dog,” it is pretty safe to assume he has not been dandled in the lap of luxury for some time anterior to his plaint. But surely, after the publication of this article, the popular significance of the metaphor will lose its force—if, indeed, the meaning be not completely reversed, so that inclusion in Dandy Dog-dom will represent the Alpha and Omega of epicurean splendour. . The fact is, mere ordinary folk have not the remotest notion of the extravagant extent to which canine pets are pampered nowadays by their highly-placed mistresses; and so utterly astounding and fantastic are the details, that I propose giving chapter and verse, so to speak, for every statement made.

reception room Dogs' Toilet Club Strand

 

The first photograph reproduced shows the reception-room of the Dogs Toilet Club, in New Bond Street—an institution certainly beyond the wildest dreams of the Battersea pariahs It was started by an enterprising and cultured lady, who had noticed the righteous wrath of the average domestic on being asked to give a pampered pet its daily bath. Everything about this club is of the daintiest; the very prospectus is in blue and gold, with a delicate bow of green ribbon at one corner. The reception-room—as one may judge from the illustration—is quite a sumptuous apartment; and the ordinary man on entering it may stumble over a costly occasional table, or occasional dog, as the case may be. For many ladies leave their pets here while shopping; others bring the little creatures to be shampooed, brushed, combed, clipped, and attended to by a professional chiropodist. Expensive sweetmeats are provided as a temporary solatium for the absence of the mistresses. The pictorial art of this handsome apartment is distinctly canine; so, too, are the contents of the glass-topped table seen on the left. This contains an interesting—not to say surprising—collection of requisites for fashionable dogs. There are morning, afternoon, and evening coats; mourning outfits, travelling costumes, and bridal dresses—for woe unto the canine aristocrat that hath not on a wedding garment when occasion demands. But more of this hereafter. The lady on the right has taken up the very latest sweet thing in dogs’ driving coats—the “Lonsdale”—made to measure, in fawn cloth, lined with dark red silk; it has a cape of the same that falls upon the pet’s shoulders, and a frill round the neck. This ornate garment is finished off with two gold bells; and the full collar is edged with fur to match that on the dress of the mistress.

Where did all this originate? In Paris, the city of eccentric, extravagant modes. Perhaps I cannot do better than reproduce the business card of Madame Ledouble, whose sumptuous establishment in the Palais Royal (Galerie d’Orléans) may be described as the Eldorado of Dandy Dog-dom. Not only does madame make dogs’ coats and fripperies generally, but she also publishes a canine fashion-book, of which an excellent notion may be gathered from the illustrations on this and the next page. These animals are stuffed specimens; all the others portrayed in this article are “from life.”

madame Ledouble dog couturiere Strand

But let us consider for a moment these chic canine fashions—which, by the way, were photographed in Paris specially for THE STRAND MAGAZINE, thanks to the courtesy of M. Henri Durand, the agent for “Spratt’s Patent” in the French capital, and I must number the “models” in order that each may be briefly described.

wedding costume for dog Strand

No. 1 is a splendid wedding toilet of white broche silk, trimmed with satin ribbons and orange blossom.

winter visiting dress

 

No. 2 shows an imposing winter visiting costume with a Medici collar of chinchilla. Other furs can be had, such as sable and ermine.

theatre costume for dog Strand

A gorgeous theatre dress is No. 3; it is made in rich broché velvet, with a collar trimmed with sable.

lingerie handkerchief and boots for dogs Strand

Next comes the array of dainty lingerie (No. 4). The dog on the left, with the “mutton-chop whisker” appearance–(reminding one of the club waiter), is clothed in a dressing gown of thick silk, which protects him from the matutinal draughts; and his fellow-dandy is seen in a spotless chemise de nuit, which leaves uncovered the paws and tail. In the same group are seen a few other assorted night-shirts in silk, gauze, and flannel, together with dogs’ handkerchiefs suitable for various occasions, and india-rubber boots, laced and buttoned.

dog mourning toilette strand

An appropriately lugubrious mourning toilet is depicted in No. 5. This is made in black cloth, velvet, or mousseline de soie, with a nice full collar. Of course, the handkerchief is en suite. 

yachting costume for dog Strand

No. 6 shows a lovely yachting “gown” of navy blue cloth, with an anchor embroidered in white, red, or blue silk, matching the uniform of the crew. The name of the yacht always figures on these coats.

visiting and traveling dresses for dogs Strand

No. 7 is a distinctly striking group. The dog behind on the left is wearing a visiting costume of green cloth trimmed with fine astrakhan. Next is seen a white flannel coat with hood, for travelling in Switzerland; then come the two dogs on the right, one of which is clad in a spring coat of light cloth, and the other in a bright red and white garment, from whose pocket peeps a silken mouchoir.

tweed traveling coat for dog Strand

No. 8 is a substantial travelling costume in Scotch tweed, with a pull-over collar, and pocket for railway-ticket, which latter is also shown.

Of course there are also bathing-dresses for Brighton, Dieppe, and Trouville, And it is not necessary for Madame Ledouble to measure the dog herself. You just write for patterns and fashion plates, and on choosing the outfit you receive careful instructions as to the measurement of your own pet, which instructions are carried out with surprising alacrity and splendour….

dog tailoress at work Strand

In the next photograph is seen an expert lady tailoress at work upon some stylish dog-coats. She is putting the finishing touches to the “Warwick.” This is a promenade costume in fine brown cloth, shot with pink, lined with rose-colored silk, fastened with a 15-carat gold clasp, and further ornamented with a double ruching at the neck like a lady’s cape. The coat on the machine is in dull red velvet, lined with white moiré. Observe the large scent-bottles near the seamstress ; for these dainty garments must be perfumed, otherwise the captious canines might (and do) evince a sudden dislike to the expensive garment selected.

But the aristocratic dog’s wardrobe also contains outfits for special occasions. I have seen a yellow satin coat trimmed with Honiton, and priced at ten guineas. An old favourite, seventeen years of age, was shown to me, and on being requested to examine his coat (of fine cloth lined with costly sable) I found a small electro-magnetic appliance sewn between the cloth and the fur lining. This dog was a bit of a hypochondriac—always fancying he was ill; he did, however, occasionally suffer from pneumonia and backache.

It is absurd to suppose that all kinds of dogs wear these garments; for example, no one would think of putting a coat on a Chow-Chow. On the other hand, dachshunds are sometimes provided with warm coats, and sealskin waistcoats alsomainly because they are apt to run through pretty long grass, and in this way, being short-legged, get their precious little stomachs wet, thus inducing various parlous canine ills. Wedding garments are always attractive; and of course, on such festive occasions, her ladyship’s pet is very much en suite. The little animal’s interest in the function may be infinitesimal—he may even regard the whole business with fierce loathing; still, he is dressed. The Maison Ledouble turns out wedding coats in white, – yellow, and crimson satins trimmed with orange blossom at the neck, and with white satin leaders; these coats cost about £5 each.

Should the newly-made bride wish to take her darling with her on the honeymoon trip, the dog-maid (no sinecure, this) swiftly changes Fido’s garments, replacing the gorgeous wedding outfit with a neat travelling suit of box-cloth, complete with hood and pockets for handkerchief, railway ticket, and biscuit—the latter by way of refreshment en route. If you think the toy dog is hustled into the guard’s van, you are grievously mistaken. He is carefully placed in a travelling kennel, such as is seen in the photograph.

travelling dog kennel Strand

This is really a beautiful hand-bag of cow-hide or crocodile, silver-mounted, and costing from four to ten guineas. It is well ventilated, and supplied with lambs’ wool mats. The wire grating is heavily gilt, or plated; and there is a leather flap which may be let down at the dog’s bed-time, or when the sun is too powerful for his eyes. Now, consider for a moment the group of costly canine trifles seen in the accompanying illustration.

some Paris novelties for dandy dogs Strand

I will describe each briefly, commencing with the top left-hand corner: (1) dress collar of pure white ivory, in imitation of that affected by the human genus dude, it has a neat, black tie; (2) collar of different shape, with tie, gold bell, and white silk leader; (3) dainty lace-bordered dog’s handkerchief of soft white silk; (4) three gold collars; (5) packet of 24 tiny hairpins, specially made for the toilet of lady poodles; (6) neat gold bracelet or bangle; (7) gold collar; (8) ditto; (9) collar of golden rings, price £15; (10) dress bracelet for lady poodle, consisting of purple satin bow with diamond buckle, valued at £45; lastly, we have a fine cambric handkerchief, and a silver collar.

These were photographed by our own artist at Barrett’s, in Piccadilly—a gorgeous establishment, whose proprietors make a special feature of catering for dandy dogs. It takes a lot to surprise Mr. Henry Barrett —to whom I am indebted for several photographs.

Dogs’ coats range in price from one to three guineas; collars from a sovereign to £60, some being of 18-carat gold fastened with a diamond brooch. Dogs with small heads and fat necks wear “harness.” This is an elaborate arrangement of straps with gold and silver mounts, whereby the pet is led from a ring on its back. Messrs. Barrett recently carried out an order for a certain noble lady, who wanted a gold-mounted tandem and four-in-hand harness—technically perfect—so that she might “drive her (canine) team afield” down Bond Street and in the park.

The mistress does not carry her pet’s handkerchief ; this would be an unpardonable breach of canine etiquette. The perfumed cambric or silken square is coquettishly stuck in Fido’s own coat pocket, so that it may be available for use on wet days, when those low omnibuses, carts, and cabs splash so horribly.

Maltese dandy dog Strand

The little Maltese here shown is called “Dandy”—appropriately enough ; and he is dressed quietly and neatly, but in the best of taste—as these things go. His coat— colour photography is still a thing of the future—is of crimson velvet lined with white silk; and he has a nice curb-chain bracelet, worth five guineas, on his left paw. In winter Dandy wears a fur coat; and I may say that these garments are usually lined with seal and sable, their cost ranging up to ten or fifteen guineas.

Dogs’ bracelets or bangles cost, in gold, from two to ten guineas each; and in silver from 15s. to 3os. In Paris, these ornaments are frequently seen studded with precious stones, rendering the pet a most desirable piece of portable property. And the gems used vary according to the breed of dog.

Why, the very combs and brushes used on canine toilet-tables are as costly as choice of materials can make them. The hair-brushes are specially designed so that the hairs stand at a certain angle, thus facilitating the treatment of tangled (natural) coats. Three or four large brushes are first used ; then come the finer kinds, and lastly the combs, which are made in steel, silver, buffalo-horn, and tortoise-shell. The brushes cost from 5s. to 10s. 6d. each (dog’s name in gold or silver extra, of course); and the cheaper kind of combs are sold at Barrett’s for 3s.6d. and 5s. 6d.

silver collars for big dogs Strand

Fastidious folk sometimes design collars in silver or gold for their own dogs; and big dogs often have solid silver collars made for them; notice two of these in the next picture.

The fact is, money is literally no object where aristocratic pet dogs are concerned.

gold and silver dog couples and bracelets Strand

Mr. Barrett tells me he has often made muzzles in gold and silver—as though such would be more tolerable than the “regulation patter” ; also leaders consisting of long chains of fine gold, and golden couples for promenading with pairs of dogs. A number of gold and silver couples and pretty bracelets are shown in the above illustration; it will be seen that the last-named ornaments lock on the dogs’ paws, thus obviating to certain extent the annoyance of periodical loss of valuable jewellery. By the way, anyone who has seen a lady trying to lead two playful pet dogs in the West-end will at once appreciate the use of the couples.

drawing room basket for dog Strand

In the accompanying photograph is depicted a dog-basket or drawing-room lounge. It is lined with seal-skin and trimmed with bright red satin to match the decorations of the apartment. These baskets are also made by Barrett’s, lined with satin, plush, and brocade. Baskets are now being ordered which can be attached to cycles, so that the mistress can take her own daily exercise and give her beloved pet an airing at one and the same time.

The well-being of these toy dogs is studied to a truly amazing degree. What could possibly be more comical than the fully-equipped canine dandy here shown? This black-and-tan terrier is dressed for a morning call with his mistress, who will leave her pet’s card as well as her own, this extraordinary custom being considered necessary if there happens to be a toy dog at the house about to be visited.

a morning call dog with collar and calling cards Strand

Look at the little animal’s quaint tie and collar; and his card-case, sticking out of the front of his coat. The fair Parisienne, on hearing of ordinary sober English customs, is contemptuously amused, and probably exclaims: “Mais c’est drôle.” But the leaving of her dog’s card on a fellow-pet during the morning drive—this she considers in no wise funny.

And yet this fashion is now fairly with us; and, absurd as it is, there are still more outrageous canine modes to follow.

Here you have a good view of wet weather dogs’ boots: pretty little rubber goloshes, with black studs or buttons. Our artist photographed the set at Messrs. Atloff and Norman’s, in Bond Street. The boot for big occasions, however, is that shown in the next illustration; you may see the original for yourself at Barrett’s, in Piccadilly. This boot is of soft brown Russia, with a nice silk lace to match; the set of four is made to measure for two guineas. The rubber goloshes are sometimes worn by rheumatic dogs; others wear them because, while in London, they suffer from a foot complaint caused by the metallic grit on the roads.

The Strand Magazine 1896

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Mrs Daffodil can hardly think what to add to this exhaustive catalogue of luxury for dandy dogs, except that she has previously written about dog calling cards.

 

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.

 

Modern Valentine Flowers: 1911

Costly Flower Valentines

No one welcomes St. Valentine’s day more heartily than the florists unless it is the candy dealers. The modern valentine is a far cry from the lace paper and cardboard affair. Also it costs a lot more than the old-fashioned sort. The old time valentine was often a serious proposition—so serious that the sender never dreamed of inclosing his card, knowing that the recipient would have no trouble at all in guessing where it came from. The average young man sent one a year—that is, if he sent any at all. The modern way is different. Oftener than not the donor’s card goes along with the valentine, and if a leading florist is to be believed one young man will send half a dozen floral valentines.

This is speaking generally, of course. There are exceptions, as, for instance, a young man who the other day placed an order with a florist to be delivered to a certain young woman on St. Valentine’s morning by 8 o’clock. He was particular about the hour, wanting to be first in the field, he said. His valentine was to be of violets made into a heart-shaped design ten inches at its widest part, pierced with a slender dagger of solid gold bought at a leading jeweler’s. This was to be inclosed in a pure white satin paper box, tied with four-inch wide violet satin ribbon. The girl who didn’t like that valentine would be hard to please, the florist admitted, even though the donor’s card did go along.

 

Violets for the Girl

Violets, he said, are a popular valentine for the reason that they are a popular corsage decoration. They mean faithfulness, and it is easy to form them into a heart-shaped bunch. In one case instead of sending the usual long violet pin with the flowers, the florist put in a pin supplied by the customer, made of silver, topped with an enamelled Cupid.

“Corsages are in the lead for valentines, next come boxes of cut flowers, preferably roses, next fancy pieces combining flowers and china or silver or gold—the latter, though, usually going to older women,” said the florist.

“Some young men take the trouble to find out a girl’s pet flower and won’t take anything else. A 10-inch across bunch of lilies of the valley is ordered for one young lady and we have orders for gardenia, camellia, and orchid valentines made up in corsage size.

Pink carnations are the favorites of one young woman who will get two dozen of the finest we can send as a valentine.

“White lilacs are ordered for the valentine of a woman who is devoted to this flower, which is not easy to get at this season. I have the privilege of mixing white and pink lilacs if I can’t get really fine white ones.”

One of the most costly valentines ordered at this store is destined for a widow. This is made of the finest specimens of orchids, the sort shading from pink to lilac. It is a three-story affair, standing when finished about three feet high. The lowest round contains two gilded wicker oval baskets, between which rises a tall gilded rod adorned with two oblong gilded vases one above the other. Baskets and vases are lined with zinc and will hold water. When sent each receptacle will be filled with orchids and orchids will drop from one to the other, practically covering the whole frame.

Another orchid valentine is of the same order, but smaller, consisting of one oval basket with a handle following its widest part, and which covered with orchids gives the basket a two-story look.

China cupid in gondola Bonhams.com

China cupid in gondola Bonhams.com

Pink Roses Final.

“Valentines of silver gold or china receptacles filled with flowers did not originate with florists,” a Washington flower dealer said. “I don’t mean large pieces, but dainty, fine, often costly vases and small jardinières which may be used simply as art objects. One of these, in the shape of a gondola, a bunch of cupids sitting in the prow, the whole thing not more than nine inches long, represents a valuable kind of porcelain. I understand, and the article is almost a work of art. This, filled with violets, goes to a lady for a valentine. A silver box with a hinged cover, about 8 by 5 inches and 5 inches deep, was brought in last year to be fixed up with violets for a valentine. It was intended for a jewel box, I believe.

“All sorts of vases in all sorts of shapes are utilized to carry the flower valentine, some of them quite tall and not costly; others smaller and costing a stiff price. These, as a rule, go to older women. When fancy flower pieces are sent to young women the foundation is usually of fancy straw or wood.

“When a man comes in and orders a certain kind of roses and a good many of them sent to a young woman as a valentine I generally take a good look at him, for that sort of order oftener than most others indicates something really doing in the sentiment line. At other seasons to send roses to a girl doesn’t mean nearly so much as when they are sent on St. Valentine’s day. Roses by common consent mean love, and when a man picks out the deepest pink variety in the store—well, as I said before, it usually means something doing. Send his card with it? Yes, indeed.”

The candy dealers, too, have taken to using all sorts of china receptacles filled with bonbons for valentines. Some are low and flat; others two stories high; not unlike an airship, and each when divested of the candy is a pretty ornament for table or cabinet.

One variety of the two-story pattern has a hollow champagne bottle poised aloft and filled with bonbons. The lower part is decorated china and the bottle is removable.

In the leading confectioners’ exquisite example of Dresden and of Sevres china shaped as boats, pony carts, wheelbarrows, and automobiles are included in the novel candy holders provided for those able to pay pretty well for a valentine, and though the connection between sentiment and bric-a-brac is not very clear, at the same time this is the style of valentine the up-to-date girl is quite likely to prefer.

The Washington [DC] Post 12 February 1911: p. 6

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Violets, in the language of flowers, mean modesty, love, and faithfulness. If they are white, “candor” or “innocence.”  They have long been a staple of Valentine’s Day; they are also associated with half-mourning. There is a moral there somewhere, but Mrs Daffodil does not care to dwell on it.

One does wonder what the language of flowers has to say about a three-feet-high arrangement of orchids destined for a widow? While orchids signify “beauty” and “refinement” in the language of flowers, Mrs Daffodil associates them with the nouveau riche and “stage-door Johnnies” of the Music Halls. Perhaps the giver of the orchids intends the recipient to exchange her weeds for flowers.

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.

 

London Mourns for Queen Victoria: 1901

in memoriam queen victoria mourning handkerchief

Mourning handkerchief for the late Queen Victoria 1901 https://collection.cooperhewitt.org/objects/18730001/

MISS COLONIA IN LONDON

CONFIDENCES TO HER COUSINS ACROSS THE SEA.

February 1. My Dear Cousins,—Many, many years ago the Great White Queen on one of her first public appearances was shown to her subjects by candle light. During a Royal visit to Leamington, when she was still a child, a great crowd gathered at night outside the Regent Hotel, where the Duchess of Kent and her daughter were staying, and to satisfy the people the Duchess of Kent held the little Princess at the window while Sir John Conroy stood behind with two wax candles.

THE CHAPELLE ARDENTE.

Once again the soft glow of tapers falls on the faces of her subjects, but oh! how changed the scene. The little Princess, having wielded England’s sceptre longer and better than any predecessor, lies at rest in her island home, while her subjects, sorrowful and silent, file slowly by the coffin. From the peaceful death-chamber six stalwart bluejackets bore the Mistress of the Seas to the dining room where Princess Alice was married, now transformed into a Chapelle Ardente with some of the pomp that befits a mighty monarch. The room in which the now closed coffin rests overlooks the terrace, with Whippingham Church half a mile away, set in a charming picture of woods, and meadows, and hills. It is no grisly, gloomy chamber that the late Queen’s tenants and servants, her Osborne visitors, the. officers of her army and navy, the mayors of the island, and the Press representatives have been privileged to enter. On the scarlet dais in the centre of the chamber is the Royal Standard in silk. The coffin rests on the banner, but it cannot be seen, being covered by a- great pall of white satin, on which lie the dead Sovereign’s robes of the Order of the Garter, crimson velvet outside and ermine within. Her crown stands on the head of the coffin, its diamonds flashing in the flood of illumination. Small electric lights line the walls, and in each of the four corners are two candelabras, the tapers in which are artificial, with electric lights. The coffin is flanked by three tall silver candlesticks; at its foot is an altar in front of the French window, which is concealed by rich tapestry. The sacred table is covered with cloth of crimson and gold, on which appears the letters I.H.S. A large Greek cross stands on the table, flanked by candlesticks in which arc lighted tapers, while two other candlesticks rise from the altar steps. Above hangs a sacred picture, and over the mantelpiece opposite is another of Christ and His mother. All round the room arc palms and wreaths of flowers, tokens of love and sorrow. In one corner a silken Union Jack hangs from floor to ceiling, caught with an immense wreath of arums and laurels from the Royal gardens at Frogmore and but with this exception and that of the tapestry the chamber is entirely draped with crimson. But for the black spots on the ermine lining of the Royal cloak there would not be a sombre note in the picture. At each comer of the coffin stand Grenadier Guardsmen, with heads bowed and rifles reversed, while the Queen’s faithful Scotch and Indian personal, attendants and her equerry still continue with her in the hour of death.

THE ROYAL COFFIN.

The body rests in a beautiful shell of cedar wood made at Osborne. Outside this there will be placed a leaden case, hermetically sealed, and the whole will be covered by a panelled oak coffin highly polished. The coffin is being made by a firm in London who have made the coffins of the Kings and Queens and Royal Princes since George I.’s reign. It will exactly follow the lines of the coffin made for the late Duchess of Teck. The furniture is of plain brass, with square handles. There will be eleven panels, three on either side, three above, and one at each end. In the upper of the three panels above will lie an Imperial crown in brass, and under this a recital of Her Majesty’s titles, her age, length of reign, and general escutcheon. The coffin is made to fit the sarcophagus in Frogmore. There, is, I think, a general feeling of relief at the announcement that there is to be no formal lying in state. The funeral is to be simple and stately, and the Queen is to be borne through the Empire’s capital, so that her subjects, through whom she has so often passed amidst acclamation, may do her reverence on her last journey. What a contrast it will be to that magnificent, jubilee pageant, three years ago! Then national rejoicings, now

NATIONAL MOURNING.

That legend one reads in all the drapers’ shops. How superfluous the announcement seems, as superfluous as the Lord Chamberlain’s order that, “all persons do put themselves into the deepest mourning. This said mourning to begin upon Monday, the 28th day of this instant January.” All people had already done so as soon as ever they heard the sad news with a. unanimous spontaneity that proved the genuineness of their grief. I saw the mourning for the Duke of Clarence, but that was but a passing slight shadow of black compared to the present aspect of our streets. Everyone, be he lord or laborer, has garbed himself in black. The navvy wraps a black cloth round his neck, the barrister wears a deep band on his hat and a black tie. Even the laundry girl, who loves to garb herself in hues that stagger humanity, has managed to don a black hat and a black bow. We women are attired in black from head to foot, unbroken save perhaps by a touch of white. Look up a crowded street and you will see one long line of unrelieved black on each pavement. I was in a picture gallery to-day, and all the women present were as much in mourning as if each had lost a member of her own family. The very few people who still retain bright color in their hats or consider violent violet or proud purple suitable hues for complimentary mourning are so rare that their bright tints in the midst of the array of black strikes the eye with a shock of incongruity. And yet the effect does not seem so dismal as you would imagine, my dears. Black has a wonderfully refining influence and becomes us all, as you must have often noted in the case of maids and shopgirls. The crowd seems chastened, the vulgarity subdued, the bad taste blotted out, plain women look pretty, pretty women beautiful. A period of national mourning will prove, too, a useful corrective to our growing tendency towards show and garishness. An Englishwoman used to be noted for the simplicity of her costume; last summer you saw her shopping or strolling in lace and lingerie more suitable for the theatre or the ball room than for a simple walking dress. But I mustn’t begin to moralise. That is the sole function of the editor of your ‘Women’s World.’

bank of toronto in mourning for Queen Victoria 1901

The Bank of Toronto, Montreal, draped in mourning for the late Queen, 1901 http://collections.musee-mccord.qc.ca/scripts/large.php?Lang=1&accessnumber=MP-1977.76.108&idImage=153855

So far, and remember that I am writing at the beginning of the week, the mourning on our buildings has not yet assumed what I call a grisly shape, in which loyal grief is supposed to be in direct proportion to the extent of gloom that hangs over the shop front. At Windsor, at all events, there is to be no gruesomeness, no sombreness. The way to the altar in St. George’s Chapel will be carpeted with grey drugget, and there will be no sable drapery in the Chapel, hangings of royal purple taking its place. The Queen’s pew is even now draped with purple. It is to be hoped that the Royal example will be followed by the loyal Londoners. There are signs, however, that dismal draperies will be much more in evidence as the week draws to its close. In Fleet street one large furniture shop has already overshadowed itself by two huge sable curtains, caught up with white. Other establishments have hung from their balconies dark black cloth, fringed with white cord. Opposite our house an artistic potter has hung out a black banner bearing a silver crown and “V.” and violet letters” “R.I.P.” In one window the Queen’s portrait bordered by white heathery sprays is lit by two candles, while from the top of the building depends a black canopy, in the centre of which appears a shield with inscription: “We mourn our Queen and Mother.” Most shops content themselves with mourning shutters, a black plank placed perpendicularly in the centre of each window, and with flying the Royal Standard and Union Jack half-mast high, thus introducing a touch of color into the scene. With violets, purple and white, as well as black; available for the decoration of shop windows, you would have expected some simple and yet harmonious effective arrangement of the mourning goods displayed. I made a little tour of the fashionable dressmakers and drapers yesterday, but was disappointed in the lack of system—the absence of any dominant idea scheme in the windows. Black hats and toques and bonnets succeeded each other in unorganised monotony, black gowns and blouses were mixed with white in aimless array: and rolls of black cloth lay side by side with the uniformity of soldiers on parade. Occasionally someone, more enterprising than the rest, festooned the windows with black and white and violet muslin. In this respect the men’s shops made a more effective show than ours. With white shirts, white handkerchiefs, and black ties and scarves they contrived some striking combinations. One man hung alternately long full black scarves and white cambric handkerchiefs, over the top of which fell narrow black ties, such as men tie in bows. Another had arrayed his shirts in rows, with a wide black band diagonally across each shirt.

Prince of Wales feathers at Queen Victoria's funeral flowers

The florists made little difference in their usual display, giving perhaps more prominence to violets and white flowers than to brighter-colored ones. One Regent street shop displayed a Royal Crown in gold mimosa on a cushion of purple violets. Others showed wreaths of laurels or palms tied with white ribbon. Fuller’s confectionery windows were filled with puffed violet nun’s veiling, in which nestled dark chocolates. A stationer’s was full of black-edged and grey writing paper, and menu cards and ice case’s ornamented with sprays of violets. The hairdressers’ models were robed in black bodices. Everywhere are displayed portraits of the Queen draped in black, and these the people throng to buy. In the way of mourning jewellery there is little to be seen. No one has yet produced a cheap medallion or other memorial of the Queen that can be universally worn as were the buttons of the various generals at the war. The people would eagerly wear a simple, artistic memorial and treasure it in remembrance of their good Queen. One industry has received a strong impetus —that of Whitby jet, the demand for which had much declined. Jet is a fossil substance found in beds of lignite or brown coal, and there are large veins of it near Whitby, which port, in anticipation of a revival of the trade, had stored a large quantity of the best local jet, Many hundred pounds’ worth have already been despatched to London and the big provincial towns. In the jewellers’ windows here you see jet muff chains and hair combs. Whitby jet brooches and French jet waist buckles, jet aigrettes, jet and beaded bags, purses, safety pins and hat pins, jet necklaces and cut jet collarettes, initial safety pin mourning ‘brooches, jet necklets with pendant hearts of jet. Gun metal, too. is being utilised for mourning card cases, studs and sleeve links, and purses. Oxydised brooches of heart’s-ease or four-leaved clover, set with two or three diamonds or pearls, are also fashionable. Diamonds and .pearls, of course, are mourning wear, and the trade in these jewels will not suffer substantially. Those who like those bead necklaces and chains so fashionable now will no doubt be able to get them in amethysts and crystals, such as Miss Cockerell sent Princess Henry of Battenberg. The late Queen herself ordered some of jet and onyx for her own wear, so I daresay a good many people will be seen with similar necklaces in remembrance of her.

It. is at present hard to estimate the effect of the nation’s mourning upon trade in general. For the moment, there has, of course, been widespread loss in many directions, making the blow all the harder after the period of depression caused by the war. Entertainments, banquets, and other public functions have been abandoned. The value of thousands of pounds’ worth of flowers for table decorations has been lost, singers and society entertainers find their vocation for the present gone, and the decision of the managers of the principal theatres to close until after the funeral will cause distress to thousands who at this time of year depend on the pantomimes for their livelihood. Home managers, to prevent their employes being suddenly reduced to starvation, are keeping open their theatres every night save on that of the funeral. It is one thing to keep open a theatre and another to get the people just now to come to be amused, so that in all probability the opening of the theatres will simply mean that the employes, who only get paid for the nights they perform, will benefit at the cost of their managers.

While the drapery establishments for the time being will be largely drawn upon for mourning materials, it is evident that their general business will largely decrease. In the first place, black lasts so much longer than lighter colors, and many little fancy fal-lals that we should purchase for our adornment, at other times will be dispensed with. Again, a large proportion of the middle class still make their old things do for the occasion, and content themselves with cheap black blouses and scarves, and retrim the black hats that have been so fashionable of late.

Although the Court is directed to go into mourning for a whole year it is unlikely that the people will go garbed in solemn suits of black for so long, nor will crape be at all generally worn except by those in close connection with the Court.  In all probability, after a couple of months, as the winter draws to a close, (and, en passant, it is evident, that at no other season could the loss caused by the sudden transformation have been less), the black will be relieved by touches of white, and as the summer approaches subdued shades will gradually come, into wear—greys, lavenders, violets, purples. mauves–brightening steadily until Edward VII. and Queen Alexandra establish their Court definitely in the metropolis. The re-establishment of Court gaieties and functions in London in 1902 should lead to a, great revival of trade, that will more than compensate for the present year’s gloom. The King and Queen will appear more often among their subjects, Drawing Rooms will be held at night instead of in the afternoons—in fact, there will be some Court life and brilliancy such as has been practically lacking ever since the Prince, Consort’s death.

Tales of her sympathy and reminiscences of her kindly acts are legion….Prince Albert had just died, and when the bereaved Queen reached Balmoral, a few weeks after his death, she found the blinds of one of her cottages drawn. The master of the home had gone where prince and peasant are equal, and in his cottage the Queen sat with his widow. Together they wept, all earthly distinctions lost in their common sorrow. “I cried and the Queen cried,” said the cottager; “and when I begged her to pardon me for crying so bitterly, she said to me: ‘I am so glad to have someone to cry with who knows just how I feel.'”

And how are we to keep her memory green in our hearts? Someone suggests that we should retain her portrait on some of her stamps, another that we should ever improve the morality of the nation, and follow the example set us by her own virtuous We; a third— that we should have an annual holiday, a “Victoria Day,” in her memory. May 24 here is not celebrated as a public holiday, and, it is said, is too close to the Whitsun festival. In the colonies, however. “Queen’s Birthday” has become an institution, and will surely remain so in remembrance of one who at all events to all of us out of our teens, will always be referred to as the Queen.

Evening Star 11 March 1901: p. 2

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: To-day is the anniversary of the State Funeral for Queen Victoria, held in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor. The letter above was written by a New Zealand correspondent resident in London and gives an evocative look at mourning in the Capital for the beloved Queen.  The descriptions of shop windows and florist displays are particularly interesting, describing as they do, the long-lost ephemera of national mourning.  While no doubt the window-dresser at Fuller’s confectionery had the best of intentions,  Mrs Daffodil must challenge the assumption that dark chocolates are suitable for mourning.

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 Woman with Five Pockets: 1891

A Woman with Five Pockets.

A young man came up town to his home and dinner the other afternoon in a Broadway car, and just about Tenth street, where the big shops begin, the overloaded team halted to take in one more passenger. She was  tall, slim, pretty girl, dressed in a brown gown, and the young man noticed her at once—first, because her face was exceedingly charming, and second, because she carried nothing in her hands. Not even the tiniest purse or the flattest card case, he swears.

On careful cross examination he could not tell how her gown was made or what shape of hat she wore. But this much he does know, that after she got on she actually did push her way well up in the car, in exact obedience to the conductor’s humble suggestion, and she also lifted up one of the empty hands, gloved in a heavy, three-buttoned, stitched red dog-skin, and held so firmly to the strap that she did not lose her footing when the car turned a curve.

Yet more remarkable, when the long suffering conductor came collecting, she calmly thrust her free hands into the folds of her frock and into an invisible pocket, set just about where such convenient receptacles are put in a man’s trousers. This was on the front of the right hand hip. Apparently not feeling the right change there, she brought down the other hand, and while the young man gaped with amazement, she ran it into another deep invisible pocket on the left hip. He swears he recognized the rattle of keys and a knife, and when the hand reappeared it was full of small change. The conductor satisfied, she resumed her strap and looked calmly over the young man’s head till another woman got in who recognized the young lady, and much chattering followed till the second woman wanted to know the time.

Then he almost lost his balance watching the first young woman unbutton her loose box coat to reveal a white shirt front and high buttoned waistcoat, in the front of which dangled a watch chain. Into a side pocket went the hand, out came an open faced watch, then from an inside breast pocket was drawn a little flat red memorandum book, and bracing herself the owner jotted down some important address given by the other woman, buttoned herself up snugly, drew a dainty silk handkerchief from somewhere under the tail of her coat, touched her dear little nose, and signaling to the conductor swung off with all the easy nonchalance of a woman hardened to the convenience of five pockets and a coat-tail handkerchief bag. New York Letter.

Los Angeles [CA] Herald 15 May 1891: p. 6

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  Mrs Daffodil suggests that the young lady, so startling with her atypically empty hands, was cleverly avoiding the pecuniary losses that occurred so frequently in the crush of humanity on the street-cars.

The press debated over how best to carry a pocket-book when ladies ventured out in public:

PRO: In view of the recent unsuccessful exploits of one Jack the Pocket Ripper, it is a matter of congratulation that the women were old fashioned enough to carry their purses in their hands. Philadelphia Press.

And CON: In view of the numerous cases of pocketbook snatching reported lately in all parts of the city, it might be a good thing for “the new woman” to adopt the masculine fashion of carrying one’s purse in one’s pocket. New York Herald.

The Norfolk [VA] Virginian 4 May 1895: p. 8

There was also an anti-purse faction among the Suffragettes, asserting that those burdensome purses were the reason that women lagged behind in professional and political life. The so-called “Suffragette” costume was designed to eliminate hand-bags, with useful pockets in divided skirt and mannish coat.

Mrs Jenness Miller, the “apostle of culture in dress” went even further. She believed “in plenty of pockets and thinks that man’s superiority began with them.”

Mrs Daffodil raises her eye-brows dubiously at Mrs Jenness Miller’s theory.  She feels that Man’s feeling of superiority began with spears, greater upper body strength, and the ability to hunt mastodons in packs. Pockets, if involved at all, were a mere foot-note.

Mrs Daffodil herself insists on pockets in all of her garments. It is a comfort to have to hand at all times a pocket-handkerchief, an aide-memoire for jotting down interesting, and possibly actionable, bits of gossip, a well-sharpened pocket-knife,  useful lengths of twine, and other convenient articles so necessary to her work.

 

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.