CHAPTER VII
What to Wear
I approach this subject with some diffidence, as it is one so differently regarded by different individuals. No two people ever seem to agree about clothing for the tropics, so I shall not attempt to offer opinions on the merits or demerits of ‘flannel next the skin,’ etc., but shall confine myself to a few general hints, which, I hope, may be equally useful to the disciple of Jaeger and Viyella, and to the advocate of muslin and cambric.
One broad axiom that none will dispute, I may give safely: in all kinds of clothes, aim at variety rather than at super-excellence of quality and delicacy of trimming. Remember that you have to wear washing gowns all the year round, and their constant attendance at the wash-tub will destroy them very quickly if you have only three or four to ring the changes on. This applies especially to white gowns, which, cool and dainty as they are, I do not recommend very strongly, as a dusty path or a shower of rain will make them unwearable after half an hour, and back they must go to the washerman, who proceeds to forcibly illustrate the meaning of ‘wear and tear.’
Linen skirts of any colour that is not too delicate are invaluable; half a dozen of them, one or two holland, and a couple of simple muslins or cool cottons, should carry you triumphantly through your time. The woman endowed with clever fingers can, of course, add to her stock, armed with good paper patterns, lengths of unmade material, and, if she is lucky, a sewing-machine, and she will probably be very glad of the occupation for her spare time. Shirts and blouses of thin flannel, washing silk and muslin can be brought in any number that space allows—the more the better, but the local laundry cannot goffer frills and almost always tears lace! Cambric and muslin blouses of the ‘shirt’ order are the most useful kind, as silk rots almost at once. For this reason let your smarter blouses be of crêpe de chine rather than silk. Evening gowns you will scarcely want; one, or at most two simple dinner frocks, and a tea-gown to wear for dinner at home, will be ample. For the benefit of those who may have to spend some time on tour, I may mention that I derive the greatest comfort from a very thin cashmere or nun’s veiling tea-gown, or rather an elaborate dressing-gown for dinner in camp, and also find it useful as a dressing-gown during the colder part of the voyage. You will want one warm dress of the coat-and-skirt description to start your voyage in, for it is usually quite cold from Liverpool to the Canaries. It should be of the plainest tailor-made sort; once arrived in Africa you will not wear it again, probably, until you reach the same point on your way home. The same may be said of what was once described to me as a ‘human’ hat, unless it is of the very plainest; for some reason which I cannot quite define, but can nevertheless thoroughly appreciate, a ‘smart’ hat looks absolutely ludicrous out here: in fact, any tendency to over-dressing has only one effect, that of making your company, usually a few hard-working men, feel thoroughly uncomfortable. All one wants, after all, is to appear fresh, spotless and dainty, which can be best accomplished by a clean linen frock, a shady simple straw hat, a sensible sunshade and garden gloves.
If it will not quite break your heart, be advised and brush back your fringe, if you have one; it is quite impossible to keep it in curl or tidy, and the peace and comfort you will get from the absence of clammy dank wisps of short hair will amply repay you for what you may think an unbecoming change. May I also whisper that no one should allow her friends at home to persuade her to invest in an ‘artistic and invisible’ ‘transformation’; they are all too visible, and, for this country, are simply waste of money.
In Nigeria there is nearly always a breeze modifying the damp heat, which reminds me that a light cloth or flannel coat is rather indispensable for sitting outside after tennis, on cool evenings; and, when it sets to work to rain after a sultry day, one finds it very chilly in muslin, the temperature drops so suddenly and considerably, that a thin serge or flannel skirt is exceedingly comfortable.
Your riding-habit should consist of a very short skirt of moderate thickness; I am no believer in what tailors call ‘Colonial’ habits, they very seldom set so comfortably, and never wear so well as a good solid cloth; moreover, the gain in coolness is not perceptible: at least, that has been my experience, after some years in India. For underneath you will find rather loose knickers most comfortable, made of dark coloured washing material; the best is called ‘moleskin’ by breeches-makers, and is used for the thinnest kind of riding-breeches for men. Don’t have your knickers made by a habit-maker, simply have a good pattern of bicycling knickers copied; two pairs should be quite enough. A cloth coat is unnecessary; a few holland and white drill loose coats will answer much better, and, as starched collars are somewhat at a discount, soft white muslin scarves, worn like a hunting-stock, look neat and are comfortable. I think it is a considerable advantage to have your habit very short indeed, as, while touring, it is a great pleasure and variety to walk the first few miles of the march, a pleasure which is completely spoilt if you have to hold up a heavy habit skirt. Riding on tour is such crawling work, that, if you prefer it, you could quite well ride your marches in an ordinary short walking skirt, though personally I think there is no garb so entirely comfortable as well-fitting riding garments.
For those wise women who adopt the ‘astride’ position, a divided skirt is, of course, necessary. The very best is, I believe, made by Ross of Bond Street, but that, being the perfection of cut and smartness, is, naturally, an expensive investment, and for rough work in this country an ordinary divided bicycling skirt would answer perfectly, or else full bloomers worn with shooting boots and putties and a rather long-skirted coat—personally, I should advocate the latter.
Bear well in mind, there must be no trifling with your mackintosh! When it rains in West Africa, it does rain, and you want the most serious and really waterproof mackintosh obtainable. I have found that the essential point is to have it of a light weight, loose and easy to slip into, at a moment’s notice, even on a plunging frightened pony, when the tornado catches one on the march. The firm of all others for this purpose is Burberry, in the Haymarket. I doubt whether any umbrella really keeps out the rain; for ordinary use, I should advise a strong silk en-tout-cas of a dark colour that will serve equally well for sun or shower. You will also want a really big cotton umbrella, lined with green—in fact, it would be a graceful attention to bring a second one for your better half, as they are quite necessary for and constantly used by men who have to go out in the sun in the middle of the day.
It will be wise to stock yourself before leaving home with all small etceteras, such as ribbons, laces, buttons, thread, needles, etc. We cannot yet buy ‘chiffons’ in Nigeria, and, unless you bring them all with you, it entails writing home, and waiting two months for a reel of silk or a packet of needles. I remember well being utterly unable to get from market or stores a single reel of white cotton, for weeks, and my husband being reduced to wearing a highly decorative but somewhat unusual pair of amateur boot-laces made of bright crimson Hausa leather!