Shorter Prose Pieces | Page 8

the sign always of the

rightness of principles, the mystical seal that is set upon what is perfect,
and upon what is perfect only.
As for your other correspondent, the first principle of dress that all
garments should be hung from the shoulders and not from the waist
seems to me to be generally approved of, although an "Old Sailor"
declares that no sailors or athletes ever suspend their clothes from the
shoulders, but always from the hips. My own recollection of the river
and running ground at Oxford--those two homes of Hellenism in our
little Gothic town--is that the best runners and rowers (and my own
college turned out many) wore always a tight jersey, with short drawers
attached to it, the whole costume being woven in one piece. As for
sailors, it is true, I admit, and the bad custom seems to involve that
constant "hitching up" of the lower garments which, however popular
in transpontine dramas, cannot, I think, but be considered an extremely
awkward habit; and as all awkwardness comes from discomfort of
some kind, I trust that this point in our sailor's dress will be looked to in
the coming reform of our navy, for, in spite of all protests, I hope we
are about to reform everything, from torpedoes to top-hats, and from
crinolettes to cruises.
Then as regards clogs, my suggestion of them seems to have aroused a
great deal of terror. Fashion in her high-heeled boots has screamed, and
the dreadful word "anachronism" has been used. Now, whatever is
useful cannot be an anachronism. Such a word is applicable only to the
revival of some folly; and, besides, in the England of our own day
clogs are still worn in many of our manufacturing towns, such as
Oldham. I fear that in Oldham they may not be dreams of beauty; in
Oldham the art of inlaying them with ivory and with pearl may possibly
be unknown; yet in Oldham they serve their purpose. Nor is it so long
since they were worn by the upper classes of this country generally.
Only a few days ago I had the pleasure of talking to a lady who
remembered with affectionate regret the clogs of her girlhood; they
were, according to her, not too high nor too heavy, and were provided,
besides, with some kind of spring in the sole so as to make them the
more supple for the foot in walking. Personally, I object to all
additional height being given to a boot or shoe; it is really against the

proper principles of dress, although, if any such height is to be given it
should be by means of two props; not one; but what I should prefer to
see is some adaptation of the divided skirt or long and moderately loose
knickerbockers. If, however, the divided skirt is to be of any positive
value, it must give up all idea of "being identical in appearance with an
ordinary skirt"; it must diminish the moderate width of each of its
divisions, and sacrifice its foolish frills and flounces; the moment it
imitates a dress it is lost; but let it visibly announce itself as what it
actually is, and it will go far towards solving a real difficulty. I feel sure
that there will be found many graceful and charming girls ready to
adopt a costume founded on these principles, in spite of Mr. Wentworth
Huyshe's terrible threat that he will not propose to them as long as they
wear it, for all charges of a want of womanly character in these forms
of dress are really meaningless; every right article of apparel belongs
equally to both sexes, and there is absolutely no such thing as a
definitely feminine garment. One word of warning I should like to be
allowed to give: The over-tunic should be made full and moderately
loose; it may, if desired, be shaped more or less to the figure, but in no
case should it be confined at the waist by any straight band or belt; on
the contrary, it should fall from the shoulder to the knee, or below it, in
fine curves and vertical lines, giving more freedom and consequently
more grace. Few garments are so absolutely unbecoming as a belted
tunic that reaches to the knees, a fact which I wish some of our
Rosalinds would consider when they don doublet and hose; indeed, to
the disregard of this artistic principle is due the ugliness, the want of
proportion, in the Bloomer costume, a costume which in other respects
is sensible.

COSTUME

Are we not all weary of him, that venerable impostor fresh from the
steps of the Piazza di Spagna, who, in the leisure moments that he can
spare from his customary organ, makes the