As a sample of the necessities of a London dandy, I send you the following statement by my ‘fashionable’ washerwoman, who is employed by some of the most distinguished ‘élégans,’ and is the only person who can make cravats of the right stiffness, or fold the breasts of shirts with plaits of the right size. An ‘élégant,’ then, requires per week,—Twenty shirts; twenty-four pocket-handkerchiefs; nine or ten pair of ‘summer trowsers;’ thirty neck-handkerchiefs (unless he wears black ones;) a dozen waistcoats; and stockings ‘á discretion.’
I see your housewifely soul aghast. But as a dandy cannot get on without dressing three or four times a day, the affair is ‘tout simple,’ for he must appear,—
1st. In breakfast toilette,—a chintz dressing-gown and Turkish slippers.
2nd. Morning riding dress,—frock coat, boots and spurs.
3rd. Dinner dress,—dress coat and shoes.
4th. Ball dress, with ‘pumps,’ a word signifying shoes as thin as paper.
At six o’clock the Park was so full that it was like a rout on horseback, only much pleasanter; instead of carpets or chalked floors there was the green turf, a fresh breeze instead of stifling heat and vapour; and instead of tiring one’s own legs, one made the horse’s do all the work.
Before I rode thither I called on Princess E—— and found three young and handsome ‘ambassadrices en conférence, toutes les trois profondement occupées d’une queue;’ namely, whether it was necessary to wear one at the queen of Würtemberg’s, or not.
At a ball this evening, at the forementioned Marchioness of Londonderry’s, I saw the Polonaise and the Mazurka danced here for the first time,—and very badly. We supped in the Statue Gallery. Many ladies had hung shawls and other articles of dress on the statues, which dreadfully shocked one’s feeling for art. At six I came home, and am writing to you while they are closing my shutters to make an artificial night. The valets here have a sad life of it, and can only sleep out of hand, if I may say so, or like watchmen, in the day.
June 13th.