DRESS À LA PREMIÈRE MODE.
(A Dialogue Pastoral and Sartorial.)
Scene—A Boudoir. Present—A Lady and her Modiste. Time—The passing hour.
Modiste. No, Madame, it is utterly impossible for you to wear silks and satins. They have quite gone out.
Lady. But hasn't alpaca come in a little?
Modiste. Scarcely. It may be used for divided skirts at Battersea Park, but it is not really recognised.
Lady. Then what am I to wear?
Modiste. Flowers, Madame, flowers. Of course they should be fixed on foundations, but they are the only materials used at the present time.
Lady. Are they not rather expensive?
Modiste. Well, no. I shall not charge more for them than velvet or brocade. And, of course, if you choose to wear your dresses more than once, your maid can get them renovated with new flowers at an almost fabulous reduction.
Lady. I do not think a gown ever looks well when worn a second time.
Modiste. Quite so, Madame; quite so. Well, would you like a charming dress of pink hyacinths, with bishop's sleeves of Gloire de Dijon roses? The skirt would be of variegated lilac.
Lady. But could you get the material for the floral combination?
Modiste. Oh dear yes, Madame! Since the fashion for real flowers has come in we are supplied daily from all parts of the world, and have a large stock always at hand on the premises. Why, our greenhouses are the finest in London. Will you want any other costume to-day?
Lady. Only one for a small dance to-morrow. I want something cool and quiet.
Modiste. You can scarcely do better than wear a costume d'Eden, or as it is facetiously termed in England, "a dress for Eve." It is an arrangement in oak leaves and apples à la mode de la première femme du monde.
Lady. Very well. Let me have it home by eleven.
Modiste. You can depend upon my punctuality, Madame. If you are careful not to dance too much it will last until 2 A.M., and permit of your partaking of supper. I would not say this with confidence of all the gowns I turn out, but in this instance you will find leaves stronger than flowers. And now, Madame, permit me to take your measure.
[Scene closes in upon mysteries of the toilet.