About Clothes
by Annie Fields
The whole world, without art and dress,
Would be but one great wilderness,
And mankind but a savage herd,
For all that Nature conferred;
This does but roughen and design,
Leaves Art to polish and refine.
-- Samuel Butler.
THERE is probably no subject seemingly trivial
and external that is more closely allied to our Individual, moral,
and even spiritual life than that of our clothes.
Therefore when a friend suggested the subject
of dress as an easy one to write upon, and one everybody was glad
to hear about, I was reminded of a perpetual-living home-dress of
my own that a friend calls "my little skin," and it seemed almost
as hopeful to talk to others about the care of their epidermis, as
about their skirts and coats. But again I reflected that talks
about the epidermis had of late years wrought a decided change in
the health of many persons, and
I entirely disagreed, of course, the more I thought about it, with
any one who should call the subject of dress trivial.
In vain did Shakespeare offer the advice,
"Costly thy habit as they
purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy;"
if that were his advice and not another dramatic
touch to the priggishness of the character he was portraying. The
fancy of woman, especially, always expresses itself in her
apparel. If she dreams and lives apart from the world, or if she
dances and lives in it, all the same we find her ideal portraying
itself in her array. She must, by some slight touch somewhere at
least "express herself in fancy." It is a gift, a charm.
I presume this is why we are so depressed at
the average condition of women's clothes, and why it is worth
while to talk about them.
How distorted the mind must be which sees
beauty in false fluffy masses of hair hiding the brow and spoiling
the shape of the head! and what a strange caricature of the
intellect it is which delights in a movable hump just below the
waist behind, which may be displaced, and sway as the woman walks,
at an angle quite irrespective of the movement of her body.
But putting aside all the sad showing of low
ideals to be found in the manner of dressing to be seen everywhere
around us, we may perhaps help ourselves and others to find a
better plane of thought on the subject by taking note of what some
girls have said who hold the matter under consideration. I find it
possible to divide these girls into three classes:
First: The girls who have nearly all the
money they want, and who believe that their first duty in life is
to dress themselves with it.
Second: The girls who have very little
money and who use what time they have, as well as all their money,
in appearing as well dressed as possible.
Third: The girls who have very little of
either time or of money at their own disposal and whose interests
are in something quite different from their clothes, yet who have
taste and sentiment and who suffer if they ever find themselves
dressed inappropriately.
We have all known girls belonging to each of
these classes.
We know the girl who is given nearly all the
money she wants and is told to get the prettiest things she can
find to wear. What is the result? Sometimes, like the girls in
confectionery shops who get so tired of sweet things that they
never want to touch them, the taste palls. It is like any other
earthly possession -- once ours we care very little for it. I
heard a young dressmaker with a large custom say the other
day: Why if it were not my business, I would wear the
plainest things I could find and never think of dress again as
long as I live." Famous actresses, too, whose profession requires
constant attention to dress, are known to despise fine dressing
when they are in private. Charlotte Cushman, who saw more of
society and that of the best kind through a long series of years
than almost anybody of her time, used to limit herself to three
dresses -- a comfortable gray woollen dress for every day, a
good black dress, and a light silk for "occasions." This left her
a margin of money for doing many noble things.
It is wonderful what a moth of money fine
dressing is! and of all unsatisfactory results perhaps to be
finely dressed is one of the least. I am speaking, of course, of
fine dressing, not forgetting that witty saying of one of our
excellent New England women -- that "there is a consolation
in being well dressed which even religion cannot bestow."
Religion does not work in that way. If we
neglect our duties she is not coming to help us until we take
pains to help ourselves ; and one of our first duties to ourselves
and to others is to be fitly dressed. There never was a
carelessly dressed or an un-neat person known who was not also
careless about appointments, careless at figures, un-neat in
processes of thought, and in some way untrustworthy. Alas ! It is
a fact -- that clothes illustrate the man.
Our girl, then, who has all the money she wants
and tries to use it for fine clothes does one of two things: she
either becomes tired of it and learns how many other things she
should prefer, and educates herself to higher tastes, learning
that the "unselfish must be economical;" or she becomes helplessly
vain and foolish and joins the peacock ranks and sinks lower and
lower in her place.
Life is a growth. We never stand still. Out of
the simple experience of buying clothes we may climb
On out dead selves
To higher things -- "
Then we come to the girls who have not much
money, but who have taste and time.
These girls think and chatter together, and
make themselves look very pretty indeed, usually much prettier
than the girls who employ dressmakers. But what is the result?
They get to have dressmaker's brains. The brains of those women
who just fail of what they promise. They are born with other
opportunities; if they dressed simply they would have time to
study, to listen to music, to begin to live in some real sense.
But alas, their lives become narrower every day and all the sacred
aspirations of their being are crushed out in time.
The truth is they have appropriated to their
own selfish uses a far more precious gift than that of money --
the hours, the fleeting days, of this brief existence, for the use
of which we must one day render account.
"What can we do?" they ask.
Think, in the first place! Think how few things
you can get on with. Think if you cannot earn a little money in
order to pay some one poorer than yourself to take some of the
stitches -- some one perhaps who has not yet learned to think and
who has slipped irrecoverably into the class of sewing-women who
suffer. Do some kind of active work which shall keep your body
alive and your forces on the increase, not on the decrease. Think
that the most beautifully dressed women who have ever lived, the
Empress Eugénie and others, have been famous for the simplicity of
their costume. Reflect when you are tempted to have an elaborately
trimmed dress how much better you will look in a plain one. A lady
of great taste said to me once, "I never trim any but old dresses.
I put on trimmings to cover deficiencies." Reflect deeply on the
preciousness of these hours. Do not use the morning-fine for
sewing if you can possibly help it. Do at least a little reading,
and take active exercise, and above all, do not let a day pass
without using some portion for the good of others.
As for the girls who are poor, and care little
for dress, let them beware !
Thackeray said he liked to see them straight.
We all like to see them pretty! And we believe that enough time
and thought should be given to achieve the best in our power with
the means at our disposal.
You will think I am asking too much and
expecting wisdom before the days of wisdom. Nevertheless I would
like to set down two or three rules which may help to decide young
girls sometimes when the problem is difficult.
First: Simplicity is beauty in itself;
and as rare as it is beautiful.
Second: Rich materials are seldom in
good taste for young women.
Third: Discover as soon as possible the
style best suited to yourself and instead of having every new
dress freshly fitted, use the favorite old ones as patterns,
changing them a little here and there in accordance with new
styles.
Fourth: A sense of neatness and order
is essential to good dressing in spite of the actresses who
sometimes attain fine effects without these qualities; but we must
never forget that they are but effects, and in everyday life
integrity, truth, is a first requisite.
I cannot ignore the fact that good dressing is
much easier for some women than for others, but I am sure we may
all do better than we have done. The subject deserves more thought
of the right kind. "She thinks a deal about dress," you will hear
one woman say of another; but you will find she means generally
that an undue amount of time and money are spent in being
gorgeous.
Now to "think about dress" should mean to make
up our minds definitely how much we mean to spend, and how that
expenditure can go for the best results; how we can adopt a
fashion that is too costly and unbecoming to our individual
requirements; how we may be ready for occasions and seasons, so
that we may enjoy the breathless days of June and the busy days of
June and the busy days of December without thinking of our own
covering.
Only consideration of this kind about
this important business of a woman's life will ever allow her to
be free of care and anxiety; but given a due recognition the
subject of dress is full of pleasure and interest. Dressmakers and
milliners lose their mightiness before a woman who carefully
considers what is best to do, and even Worth may send his cards in
vain.
There is self-denial, sometimes a great deal of
it, exerted in such behavior, but the dressing in the end loses
nothing by it.
Annie Fields.
Originally published in Wide Awake 26 (December 1887, pp.
86-7), "The Contributors and the Children."
Edited by Terry Heller, Coe College.