About every fad, every fashion, every new thing which is started, the wise woman, Caroline, reserves judgment. Because these matters are not questions of right and wrong, which a sense of duty should direct her to have a decided opinion upon immediately; they are merely questions of taste and expediency, and a calm review of them first is necessary before making up the mind. If a girl or woman is of a sufficiently distinguished personality, and is endowed with prestige and great social position, she can start originalities herself if she pleases. But, if she is a very young girl, this is most hazardous, and the really sensible thing to do is to follow the oft-quoted maxim of the Prime Minister and “wait and see!” It is as foolish to plunge with ardor into an untested new fad—which you may be ashamed of presently—as it is to treat it with antagonistic scorn and swear you will never have anything to do with it! Either course of action may possibly place you in an undesirable or ridiculous position after a while, when the fad or fashion has either shown itself to be vulgar and impossible—or has come to stay!
Give no opinion upon any radically new departure, my child. Quietly and in your own mind weigh its merits and demerits, and see if they come above or below the standard of your own self-respect and the true sense of the fitness of things—and then presently decide for or against. Never be ruled by the outcries of old-fashioned people any more than you must be led away by the feather-brains of your own age. But when you have arrived at the moment for decision judge the thing itself by those two standards that I have just indicated, and not by what anyone else thinks of it. Ask yourself, “If I play this game, or wear these clothes, or dance this dance, am I degrading my ideal of myself in any way? Is there really something indecent and immodest in it? Or is it shrieked at simply because some of the shriekers are too old to enjoy it, or their minds have turned to whatever side of it they can fix upon which can be developed into something suggesting impropriety?”
When you have sifted the motives for the outcries against the new fashion, whatever it may be, and have come to your own conclusions, go along steadily on your way, and be not disturbed, remembering always that excess in anything is undesirable and all eccentricity is vulgar in a young girl. There will be plenty of unbalanced youths and maidens in your world who will rush headlong into any new fad the instant that it is suggested to them. Well, Caroline, be very sagacious! And let them be the ballons d’essai! Watch how the thing seems to you and if it is likely to lead to pleasure or disgust. You will not have committed yourself to either side by this abeyance of expressed opinion, and can (to use another political phrase!) be safely “seated upon the fence” for a sufficient time to be able to decide whether the debated thing is only some small passing folly of one set—or if it is really something brought by the spirit of the Age. You will soon be able to settle this question, and, if you find that it has this omnipotent force at its back, do not hesitate to adapt it to your desires, and use it gracefully. I have emphasized these three words on purpose, because therein lies the whole pith of the subject—for it is so often the manner of a thing which counts more than the matter.
There is another important fact to be remembered, namely, the tremendous force of familiarity and custom which can turn startling innovations into unnoticeable and innocuous every-day occurrences.
If one stops to think for a minute one can conjure up numbers of sights which, viewed from a detached point uninfluenced by the familiarity of custom, would seem horribly shocking to one or other of our senses. For instance, if we had never seen a butcher’s shop before, some of us would faint at the first view of it! This unpleasant simile I give merely to show you in a very concrete and forcible manner what I mean—your own intelligence will apply the test to other subjects.
Thus, I remember, when first I saw a rather stout and elderly lady on a bicycle, I felt a wave of repulsion and, with others in the street, I turned my head to look at her in disgust. One sees them every day now and one does not even remark the fact. I went with a party to a very fashionable restaurant to see in 1913, where as a rule only the élite of society congregate—and where reserve and decorum are the natural tone of the place. However, for the New Year’s Eve feast, it seemed to have opened its doors to a crowd of the most aspiring inhabitants of Suburbia, who afterwards danced in the ballroom. They indulged in wonderful “Bunny Hugs” and “Turkey Trots”—and probably the Tango, although its name had not become so famous then, and I did not recognize it. I recollect how we stood and watched them and laughed at some of the sights. Respectable, and often very plump, mères de familles with agonized faces of strain in case they should forget a step, were bumping against and clinging in strange fashion to some equally preoccupied partner! I thought then how undignified, how even revolting it was. But now when I go out here in Paris, even among the most recherchées grandes dames and see them (grandmothers some of them!) taking their hour or two of exercise by dancing the Tango, I am moved by no spirit of disgust, I merely feel critical as to whether or no they do it well—so far has custom and familiarity removed antipathy!
So I want you to take this powerful factor into consideration, Caroline, dear, in all matters of innovations. I want you to realize that they will become unremarkable and unimportant—so that the only sensible, just and sagacious way to look at them, if you should feel you wish to indulge in them, is to try to find out how far you can do so at that present moment of the day without making yourself ridiculous or looking unseemly. You can always exploit and expand your style when you see it is advisable. As I said before, there is no rigid law of right and wrong about such affairs, all are weighed by custom and suitability to present circumstances. As an illustration I will tell you a story of, perhaps, nineteen years ago.
I was in one of the great capitals of Europe when bicycling was just starting, and at a court held a young American girl was presented to the Queen. The presentations there were arranged quite differently to ours in England and the august lady said a few words to each débutante. When it came to the turn of the American girl, the Queen—a lady of perhaps forty-five—asked her if she was interested in seeing the sights of the ancient city.
“Why, no, Your Majesty,” the sprightly maiden replied, “I bicyclate—do you bicyclate? It is no end of fun.”
The Queen became very pink and said coldly, “Such pastimes are hardly suitable to my age or position,” and passed on—but the nice point of the tale is that at that very moment the Sovereign was taking lessons in the strict privacy of her own royal garden! Only her perfect sense of the fitness of things made her not expose herself at that early day of the fashion in public, or even admit that she was countenancing the new exercise.