Category Archives: shopping

Married in Black: 1919

mourning frock 1916

THE BLACK DRESS

Carlotta Thayer sat crumbling her unpalatable sandwich and forcing herself to eat it between sips of tea from a thick cup. She sold neckwear in the big department store around the corner and had been busy all day handing out jabots and collars and cuff sets to eager buyers. Her face was so pleasant above her own white collar that it attracted quite as much as her wares.

Some day Carlotta hoped to earn really living wages. In the meantime she made $6 a week answer for all her needs. She had resolved life into “making the best of all that comes and the least of all that goes.” Even a poor sandwich was better than none at all. She saw people every day who looked as though they would be glad of what she found so difficult to swallow. Sometimes Carlotta got her suppers in her room as she got her breakfast, but if the weather was pleasant, she was apt to run into the “White House” for her sandwich and tea and afterward stroll home at leisure.

She was only halfway through her sandwich when she turned her eyes just in time to catch the glance of a young man who was entering the door. He stopped, continued to look hard at her for an instant and then hurried down to the table where she sat alone.

“Why, Carlotta!” he exclaimed, bending over her and holding out his hand. “Isn’t it strange? I was thinking of you and then I saw you.”

“I’m awfully glad to see you, Will,” Carlotta said, letting her hand stay in his and looking up into his brown, clear, serious face. “You look like home to me.”

“I’ve just come from there.” He drew off his overcoat and sat down opposite her. “It’s just the same. But you don’t deserve to know about it, Carlotta. You haven’t thought enough of any of us to come back even for a week.”

“I’ve worked every minute since I left,” Carlotta explained. “You see, Will, it’s different here in the city from what it is at Otisville. If you once get behind you never catch up. Things move so fast. I’m working at Davern’s—selling neckwear. It’s real pleasant.”

“You don’t look as though it agreed with you. You’re getting scrawny,” he said conclusively. “Well, Carlotta, I’m hungry as a bear. I’m going to order some supper, but you must stay and help me eat it.”

“Oh, I’ve had mine, thank you,” Carlotta returned lightly. She flushed as she saw his glance fall upon the telltale morsel upon her plate, and again as she heard him ordering chicken and mashed potato and salad and apple cobbler—for two.

“And coffee. You still drink coffee, don’t you, Carlotta? I remember your Aunt Jane’s and how good it tasted, coming hot and fragrant out of that old tin pot. Coffee making is getting to be a lost art with these new contraptions called percolators. My sister’s got one. You know she and Ed had moved into their new house, didn’t you? That leaves the old home empty except for me. And I shan’t be there, for I’m going west.”

“Going—west?” Carlotta repeated. The news gave her a curiously sick feeling. She covered her cheeks with her hands to hide them.

“Yes, clear to San Francisco. The firm’s sending me. I start tonight. Don’t you envy me?”
“Yes, I do,” Carlotta said. “You’ll have a wonderful trip. Just__”

He interrupted, leaning toward her across the table. “Wouldn’t you like to go?”

Carlotta sighed. “I don’t dare think about it. Of course, I know, I never shall.”

The waiter put the food between them and departed. Carlotta lifted her fork and first mouthful took the taste of the sandwich out of her mouth forever. “Oh, it’s so good,” she murmured. “I believe I am hungry, after all. Will, this chicken is almost as good as Aunt Jane’s used to be, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, smiling: “Nothing could equal that. Do you remember how we used to save the wishbone to break when it was dry? And once we both wished for sleds and it flew all to pieces. But we got sleds just the same. Carlotta,” continued Will, earnestly, “don’t you think it a pity that all that old comradeship should be wasted? We never quarreled as children. We wouldn’t quarrel now. We’re in the same key, and that always makes for harmony. Carlotta, say, marry me and go west with me tonight.”

“Marry you!” Carlotta exclaimed. She dropped her fork. “Oh, Will!”

“Why not? What’s to hinder? Telephone to the store manager. Pack what you must have. We’ll get a license, find a ministers and—won’t you, Carlotta?”

“You’ve known me always. I’ve know you and–. Why, I love you, Carlotta. I can make you so happy. We’ll make our trip, then we’ll settle down in the old house. You know what that is. Don’t you see, Carlotta, I can’t go and leave you here in this place? Now that I’ve seen you I can’t possibly. You must come with me. The train leaves at 11:15. It’s 6:30 now. Plenty of time.”

Carlotta felt dazed. To marry Will Galt and go to California with him, and to live in the dear old house where she had played so much in her childhood! To be back in Otisville, loved, secure, at rest! Heaven scarcely offered more. She felt like throwing out her hands to him and crying: “Oh, Will, take me! I’ve always cared for you! I went away because I was too proud to stay when I thought you didn’t care for me. And it’s hard—hard for all my courage and resolve.” Instead she drew back. “I can’t,” she faltered.

Will’s face grew long and stern. “Some one else?”

“N-no, no, indeed!”

“What then?”

“Oh, I can’t tell you!” Tears came stingingly at the end of a hysterical little giggle.

In the glass beside them she saw herself, black frock, shabby black coat, still shabbier black hat, the last of her mourning for Aunt Jane. She had nothing else, not another thing that she could wear to be married in. And how could she be married in mourning? It made her shiver to think of it. And she could not tell Will. If she told him he would rush out to some place and buy her a dress, and she could not permit that. In the town where she had been brought up men did not buy frocks for their brides to be married in. She would rather wear the black dress than incur such a shame. And she could not wear the black dress.

If she had any money at all she could buy the dress for herself, but that morning she had paid her room rent, which left her exactly 87 cents to tide her over until her next pay envelope.

“It’s no use, I can’t.” She had gathered all her forces. “Don’t let’s talk about it any more, Will. Let’s be friends.” She drew on her gloves so nervously that the thinnest one split across the palm. She gazed awestruck at the disaster, then clenched her hand on it and stood up. She was about as white as her collar. And Will, on the other side of the table, was white, too.

“Well, I can’t kidnap you, that’s certain,” he said. “You’re old enough to know your own mind. But I think you’re making a mistake.

They did not speak again until they were on the street. Then he said rather brokenly: “If—if you should change your mind, Carlotta, you can ‘phone me at the Carlton. I’ll be there until my train leaves. Now, which car shall I put you on?”

When 15 minutes after she entered her own room Carlotta felt she had put aside her one chance for happiness and the great adventure because she could not be married in a black dress. She sank upon the bed and buried her face in the thin pillow For a few moments she had all the agony of tears without any tears at all. Then suddenly she became aware that some one else was crying near at hand, on the other side of the thin partition. She turned her head and listened. In that room lived a girl whom she did not think much of –a fussy little person who jingled and swished when she walked and left trails of scent behind her. She worked in the ten-cent store, Carlotta believed.

Carlotta had always avoided May Bagley like the plague, but now the sound of those sobs aroused her pity and made her forget her own trouble. Maybe she could do something for the poor little butterfly suffering so audibly from singed wings. A moment later she knocked at the other girl’s door. A piteous voice bade her enter and she walked in. May Bagley sat huddled in a chair and beside her on the floor was the letter which evidently had caused all her woe. She lifted her wretched face to Carlotta’s.

“Oh, it’s you, Miss Thayer!” she tearfully said. “I’m so glad. You’ll understand. I was afraid it was that horrid old Miss Dix that was never young or anything in her life. She’d tell me it served me right not to have a decent thing to wear to Uncle Nat’s funeral or any money to buy with. And—and I’ve got to go, for you see—“ She was sopping at her wet face with a little pink and white rag, which was still wetter. Carlotta silently held out to her one black-edged handkerchief. May looked at it. “That’s just what I need,” she said. “Oh, Miss Thayer, it’s—it’s awful. If I don’t go to Uncle Nat’s funeral dressed appropriately Aunt Hat will never speak to me again. And there’s money coming to me if I do. Oh, I wish I were dead!  What’ve I been thinking of all this time to buy pink and blue and green things that I can’t wear at all?”

As Carlotta looked down at her fluffy blond head she suddenly remembered herself and her own predicament and a thought came to her—a thought so scintillant and joyful and daring that she laughed out loud. She knelt beside May. “Listen!” she said. “We’re about the same size. You take my clothes and lend me some of yours.”

The girl looked up hopefully. “Honest? Do you mean it?” she cried.

“Yes. It will help me out. For while you want mourning” –here Carlotta smiled—“I need a colored dress and I haven’t one or any money. If I don’t have it—“

“You’ll lose some money, too?”

“No,” Carlotta replied: “I lose more than money. I lose the chance to marry the man I’ve wanted all my life.”

May Bagley leaped up and snatched Carlotta to her in a hug. “There’s a man in my story, too,” she said; “a home man. Now, let’s swap.”

From her closet she brought a pink dress and a taupe hat, with a pink rose and a corduroy coat edged with fur—cheap, showy garments, but the most beautiful to Carlotta at that moment of any she had ever seen. A few moments of deft movements and the transformation was complete.

And then the telephone! Just for a moment Carlotta lost her voice when she heard Will’s voice over the wire.

“You’ve changed your mind? God be thanked! I’ll be there in 15 minutes in a taxi, Carlotta. Oh, you darling girl!”

At 11:20 that night a radiant young pair sat holding hands on the west-bound limited. The girl had just told the story of the black dress. At that moment on the platform of a little country station another girl in shabby black was being folded in the arms of a stern faced old woman. But being an experienced little person she kept her story to herself.

Honolulu [HI] Star-Bulletin 4 December 1919: p. 14

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Mrs Daffodil wonders if working in a ten-cent store makes one a more experienced little person than working in cuffs and jabots. Perhaps the clientele consisted of Mashers and Dudes. Mrs Daffodil also wonders why the well-set-up Will was not off fighting the Hun in France.

There are several elements of lingering superstition in this story: Carlotta (and that is quite the exotic name for someone from Otisville with an Aunt Jane) may have also felt sick because Will’s phrase “going West,” was a common euphemism for dying. We may wonder at Carlotta’s hysteria about her black wardrobe, but readers would have remembered a well-known rhyme: “Married in black, you’ll wish yourself back,” which explains Carlotta’s refusal to be married in mourning. Mrs Daffodil cannot help but think that cheap, showy garments cannot be much luckier. “Married in tat, his love will fall flat” about sums it up.

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 Glitter and the Gold: Wedding & Engagement Rings: 1915-1923

1910 engagement ringA

Platinum and diamond engagement ring, 1910 http://www.bonhams.com/auctions/22642/lot/129

Miss Rosebud: Why is it they put a diamond in the engagement ring and none in the wedding ring?

Old Cynic:  Because all the glitter ends with the marriage.

The Jewelers’ Circular 28 November 1894: p. 27

Buying Wedding Rings.

A shy young man went into a Broadway jeweler’s store, so says a local reporter, and looked at gentlemen’s rings, fingering them and asking questions about them, and yet appearing to take only a forced interest in them. The jeweler’s clerk whispered to a bystander, “By-and-by he will come around to the wedding or engagement rings. That is what he has come after.” Sure enough the young man presently pointed to a tray of flat gold band rings. “What are they for?” he inquired. The clerk said that they were merely fancy rings, worn by ladies and gentlemen, and that some folks bought them for wedding rings. The shy young man tried two or three on his little finger, and, finding one that would not quite go over his knuckle, said, “Give me this one. How much is it?”

“It’s five dollars,” said the clerk, “but if you want a wedding ring I would advise you not to buy it. Every now and then we sell them to people who insist upon having them, but as soon as they find out the fashion they come back and have them melted up and rolled up into this old-fashioned round form. The only wedding ring is the round ring, plain and simple.”

“Gimme a round one, then; same size as this.”

He got one and went away. The clerk laughed, and said he could tell when a young man wanted a wedding or engagement ring every time; though sometimes they ask to be shown clocks, bracelets, or anything rather than what they come for. Very many come right to the point, though they stammer and falter about it quite painfully. Others again ask frankly and boldly to see what they want. “There never has been a change in the fashion of wedding rings,” said the clerk; “the plain round gold ring has always been the only correct thing. Men sometimes choose other kinds, but women never make that mistake.”

“Do women choose their own wedding rings?”

“Oh, very often. Frequently they come in alone, fit a ring to the right finger and leave it for the prospective bridegroom to pay for. Sometimes they pay for it and take it away, and of course the young man reimburses them. Quite often, too, the brides come in with their mothers. Very serious and grave the mothers are, and show neither timidity nor sentiment. They ask for wedding rings, they look them over, buy one, and go away. Irish and German girls often bring their lovers as well as their mothers. There is not a funnier sight in the world than to see a clumsy fellow hanging behind and looking unutterably foolish while his sweetheart and her mother discuss the purchase. They pay no attention to him until they come to the final selection. Then they tell him how much is to be paid, and he pays it and they all go out. Irishmen are apt to be close buyers. They will scarcely ever buy anything without knocking something off the price, but no Irishman ever haggles over a wedding or engagement ring. It does not matter if the wedding ring he chooses comes as high as nine dollars. He pays the price without a murmur.”

“Many foreigners, particularly Germans, exchange wedding rings. The bride pays for the groom’s ring and vice versa. At the altar they exchange rings. They come in together to buy them.”

“What is the fashion in engagement rings?”

“Oh, there is no fashion in them particularly. Any pretty ring set with small stones does for the purpose. Turquoises and pearls are popular just now, and so are pearls by themselves. Diamonds are the rage with people who can afford them, and from that the precious stones range downward in price to amethysts. Engagement rings cost from $15 to $150; wedding rings from $5 to $15. Very many persons have initials, dates or mottoes engraved in their wedding rings. ‘Mizpah,’ or ‘Thine forever ‘ are favorites, but the commonest custom is to have merely the initials and date—’ J. S. to S. J., Nov. 11, 1883,’—cut in the inner surface of the ring. Nothing is engraved in engagement rings. The manner of wearing them has changed, however. They used to be worn on the index finger of the left hand, you know, but the ladies think that a little too much of an advertisement nowadays, and they wear them on the third finger of the right hand. That finger of the left hand is still the one on which wedding rings are worn.”

The Jewelers’ Circular and Horological Review, Volume 15, 1923: p. 48-49

1897 mizpah ring

Gold Mizpah ring, 1897, Birmingham http://www.bonhams.com/auctions/13727/lot/81/

JUNE BRIDES’ WEDDING RINGS COST ALL THE WAY FROM $4 to $400

Bridegrooms Often Wear Them, Too.

How to Tell a Woman’s Character by the Ring She Selects

The wedding ring clerk wears one, not because it is his business or just because he happens to be married, but because it’s all the style.

Every man ought to, any way, the clerk says. It’s just as much his funeral—beg pardon. It’s just as much his wedding as it is hers.

At any rate, the wedding ring clerk is starting to get down to the store early these days and stay late, for what with doing double business on account of recent masculine leanings toward the little golden circlets, and what with the record season for marriages beginning, this overworked creature scarcely gets time to join his friends at the counter where it is their noon-day custom to gather round.

But it hasn’t made a cynic of him. Far from it. Instead the daily stream of wedding ring purchasers furnishes him with some entertaining bits of philosophy.

“You can always tell what kind of a wife a woman is going to make,” is one of the conclusions he has come to as the result of his 12 years of observation, “by the way she selects her wedding ring. If she wants a big and showy one and is proud to death of the new station in life that awaits her, she’s the real womanly woman. Her home is going to be her kingdom with her husband as monarch.

“On the other hand, if she wants a small inconspicuous and, one which she can wear around her neck without it becoming a dead weight, you can be pretty sure she has some notions in back of her head of continuing a career, or of ‘managing’ her husband.  She’ll pull the purse-strings and be the all-around boss.

“Another thing that you notice,” he continued, “when you’ve been in this business for some time, is that the older a man gets the more sentimental he gets and the less he minds showing the whole world how he regards his adored one.

“Only the other day a gray-haired man of about 50 came in with a sweet young thing clinging to his arm. The inscription that he had engraved on the ring was: ‘God knew I was lonely and he sent you to me. I thank Him.’”

“Mizpah,” according to the wedding ring clerk, is the inscription most frequently used. It is taken from the story of Jacob in the Bible and means: “The Lord watch between me and thee.” The initials of the man and woman are also commonly used.

But so often,” said the clerk, “they make the mistake of wanting to say ‘J.S. to M.S.’ The ‘to’ is absolutely wrong for a wedding ring, though it is all right for an engagement ring. The wedding ring should have the initials intertwined or they should be connected with the word ‘and.’ They are both being married and the ring is a sign of union.”

In many cases the queer hieroglyphics, which even the experienced clerk cannot decipher, are used as an inscription, and this usually indicates some cherished secret sentiment.

Wedding rings range in price from $4 to $400. The inexpensive ones are plain gold circlets, made of $18and 22 karat gold. Those in stock are virtually all the very narrow kind. The old-fashioned broad band, which could be seen 10 feet away, has become passé.

A novelty wedding ring which promises to become popular is called the alliance ring. It breaks in the center for the inscription and when it is put together again the cut does not show. In this way it is supposed a secret engraving could be kept more inviolate than most secrets ever are.

Platinum wedding rings range in price from $13.50 to $30. Some of them are carved.

Often the purchasers are amazed at the inexpensiveness of this tie that binds, and even though they want for sweet sentiment’s sake the plain old band, they cannot get it into their heads that a real gold ring can be had for $4.

It is on occasions like these that the clerk brings out the jeweled tray, just to show how much can be spent for a wedding ring.

Platinum bands carved and studded with diamonds cost from $95 to $400, unless the finger is unusually large and then more must be paid for the extra gem added.

The prices for men’s wedding rings, and they are being sold in goodly numbers, is slightly higher than those for women because of the extra metal needed, but the fashion, the plain gold circlet, is the same.

Evening Public Ledger [Philadelphia PA] 26 May 1915: p. 10

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  There was a time when it was not mandated that gentlemen should wear wedding rings. “Benedicts” often wore signet rings on their right hands or omitted the ring altogether. It was a cause for comment  when the bridal couple held a “double-ring” ceremony.  But this changed after the First World War:

Sign of “Bondage” Is Reappearing on Left Hand of Man

They’re coming back! After an era of bare masculine fingers the sturdy fourth appendage of the sturdy left hand is now to be adorned with that long scorned sign of bondage—the wedding ring.

Milwaukee jewelers, questioned on this supposedly dead subject, replied that the last six months showed a long leap upward in the sales of men’s wedding rings.

“And in another six months I’m willing to predict, they’ll all be wearing them,” one jeweler declared.

Use Modern Patterns.

Not the conventional rolled gold band! No, indeed, they’re quite as out of date for men as they are for women. The modern bridegroom is buying the carved variety, engraved to match his bride’s ring in any of the popular patterns of orange blossom, bridal wreath, heart, forget-me-not or rose buds.

One jeweler, who has sold wedding rings to Milwaukee bridegrooms for the better part of a half century, declares that the present rush on wedding rings is a puzzle to him.

“The funny part of it is, you know, that the men want them,” he said. “They seem to want the world to know they’re tied. There was a time when we sold all sorts of special combinations—most frequently a signet ring arrangement, to conceal the wedding band.”

American-Born Responsible.

Asked whether the double ring custom was not peculiar to some nationalities, the reply was that, be such as it may, it is the American-born young man, reared according to American tradition, who are building up the new wedding ring fad.

And it isn’t only young men! The craze for engraved rings has reached even the husbands who have been “in” for ten or twenty years. They bring in their old rings to have them engraved in the newest designs.

Milwaukee[WI] Journal-Sentinel 31 July 1921: p. 18

 

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.

Buying a Bridal Trossy: 1877

trousseau

A French fashion doll with her trousseau.

BUYING A BRIDAL “TROSSY”

One day last week, a powerfully-built young man, to whose right arm was linked a tall, thin girl of eighteen, with a sharp nose, pale blue eyes, and hair like the color of an old knife handle, entered a Lake avenue store, with both eyes full of business. As the pair took seats a clerk intimated that he was ready to take bottom price on any goods in the store, from the finest silk to the glaziest calico.

“This is kinder delicate business for us,” replied the young man, casting sheep’s eyes at the girl.

“That is to say—that is—yes, ahem!” stammered the clerk.

“But I guess we’ll live through it, Molly, and so here goes. What we want is a trossy for this girl—a bridal trossy, I believe they call it.”

“That is exactly what they call it,” replied the clerk; “and tell me what articles you want, and I’ll give the lowest figure.”

The pair looked at each other in a half foolish way for a minute, and the girl hid her face behind a stack of goods.

“A little skeery, but she’ll git over it,” mused the lover. “The first thing I s’pose is a dress?”

“From one to sixteen dresses as you like. You’ll take a black silk, perhaps!”

“And perhaps I won’t. There’s no style about us, Mister. We marry for love, and we’ve got to make a little money go a long ways. Is calico purty low?”

“Oh, Zeke!” gasped the girl, suddenly showing her face.

“”Well, we’ll got a little better, then, though calico is my motto. Hand us down something about 20 cents per yard. Give us dove color, for doves are meek and lovely, and so is Molly.”

Twelve yards of dove  colored goods were cut off, and Zeke looked around and said: “Less see. I s’pose a back comb, two yards of blue ribbon, a bunch of hair pins and two or three collars ought to figure in somewhere.”

The clerk agreed and they were figured in.

“Less see. She’ll wear her sister’s hat to stand up in, and her sister’s shoes won’t show if she has a long dress on. I guess that’s about all, isn’t it, Molly!”

The girl blushed very red, beckoned him closer and, after a minute he turned to the clerk and said:
“It’s kinder throwin’ money away but she’s purty and gentle, and I don’t mind. She thinks she ought to have a fifty cent corset and two pairs of stockings.

The articles were brought, inspected and placed with the “trossy,” and after the lovers held another whispered conversation, Zeke observed:
“Well, that’s all. Figger up and there’s your cash. We’ve got to go and git some hair oil, and a dollar gold chain with a locket to it, and a pair of sleeve buttons and some shoe strings, and you see the outfit is going to squeeze me bad.”

“When does the marriage come off?” asked the clerk.

“In about ten days. She’s a good girl and loves me, and I am trying to do the fair thing by her. ‘Taint many young men who would put up seven dollars on a bridal trossy for his girl; but when I make up mind to marry any one I’m almost reckless of wealth. She didn’t need the corsets any more than I need suspenders, but she had a sister married with a corset on, and she didn’t want to be behind her.”

“I hope you’ll be happy.”

“We sh’ll be—can’t help it. This ‘ere girl can sling more enthusiasm into a mess of taters than any queen in Europe. I had to take her old dad by the collar and jerk his heels to the ceiling before he’d consent to this marriage. Well, good by.”

Rhode Island Press [Providence RI] 21 July 1877: p. 1

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  A well-meant, but highly-irregular proceeding! We have already blushed for the young man who sent his betrothed a night-gown, which was quickly identified by the recipient as a burial robe. No groom had any business buying collars, hair-ribbons or dove-coloured fabric before the wedding day. And the notion of a bridegroom discussing, not to mention, purchasing corsets and stockings is utterly beyond the pale. (At least in the respectable parts of the English-speaking world; the French handled things rather differently, as we see in this post about Madame Junot’s trousseau.)  It was entirely the responsibility of the bride or her family to sew or to purchase a trousseau, sometimes in a most lavish vein, as we see from this squib.

CHIT-CHAT—TROUSSEAU.


Once more we are called upon by the exigencies of the season to give some hints on this all-absorbing subject. We will suppose that the sea-side trip, or the visit to the Springs, has been successful. The young people are actually engaged, and the fair fiancée commences her consultations with milliners and dressmakers. She has shopped before expensively, but never with a carte blanche from papa. Now “the dear child must not be denied anything;” and as they will be her last bills— unless the fashionable precedent of speedy separation is followed— it is not best to be too particular. The bridal robe, the party dresses, the traveling dresses, and the wedding bonnet, are ordered. Fifty dollars go for a handkerchief to hide the expected tears and blushes; five hundred for the dress (of a truth; dear reader, it is no fabulous cost); one hundred and fifty for the veil— afterwards the scarf for dinner parties;—and so on to the end of some thousand dollars, spent exclusively in finery. There is no other name for it. 
Godey’s Lady’s Book September 1850

Mrs Daffodil has previously posted about the extravagant trousseau of an American bride, indiscreetly noted in the papers.

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.

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.

 

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.