It is my opinion that in choosing underclothing for cold weather finely-woven cotton is the best of all. Silk is not durable, and wool, even of the finest quality, will often prove irritating. Besides, so many of us spend most of our time in steam-heated homes or offices that woolen garments keep one too warm. The cotton union suit makes a very desirable undergarment. This should be high-necked, long-sleeved, and made to come well down over the ankles. For the girl whose particular worry is a nose of flaming red, let me say that in fleece-lined stockings, calfskin boots and warm overshoes lies her only hope of a less flamboyant nasal appendage.
There is no need of fourteen petticoats, notwithstanding the fact that really nice old ladies insist upon wearing that number. One skirt of silk or moreen, together with a tiny short one of white muslin and a pair of sensible, warm, woolen equestrian tights will make one more comfortable and will allay that immense swelling about the hips which much be-petticoated old ladies have. The tights, however, should be worn only when one is out of doors. During really cold weather no woman with sense enough to fill a one-grain quinine capsule will venture out of the house without thus properly clothing her lower limbs. Let femininity come to the understanding that in proper dressing and rational eating she will find the first and best materials for building her house of beauty. It's all very well to wear pretty, fluffy, lace-trimmed undergarments, but if you think that a wan, white, pinched little face pays you for such extravagances in silliness, then you are a ninny. Wear the fluffy things if you will, but put on the warm ones, too. In making a choice between the raiments of a ballet dancer and those of an Eskimo lady, I'd point the finger of approval toward the latter—at least at those times when the thermometer is lounging around the zero point.
THE THIN GIRL
"Beauty gives
The features perfectness, and to the form
Its delicate proportions."
—Willis.
Diogenes and his lantern had an easy, simple task. If they had started out together to turn their searchlight of discovery upon a woman who was neither too fat nor too thin, no doubt they'd been poking around in other people's affairs ever since. I once heard of a woman to whom the idea of gaining or reducing flesh had never occurred, but she died before I got a chance to look at her, so of course I am rather doubtful as to the truth of the story. To my mind she should have been made president of something or other or else been put on exhibition where the rest of suffering womankind could have gone and feasted their eyes upon such an impossible paragon. If there is not a general wail about over-weight or under-weight, then it's a thin neck, or big hips, or an inclination to too much "tum-tum," or skinny arms, or cheeks like miniature pumpkins—and goodness only knows what else. And by the time one particular horror is massaged out of existence another crops up like a spook in the closet of a "fraidy-cat" girl, and then the business is begun all over again.
Therefore, say I this: Don't worry yourself into your grave about too much flesh or a lack of it unless you find yourself taking on the extreme proportions of a skeleton lady, or a museum exhibit of unusual plumpness. A thin neck may be a bad thing—as all girls so afflicted can testify—but if that thin neck is rebellious, and pays absolutely no attention to tonics or massage or other coddling for which it should rightly be grateful, then merely say, "All right, if you insist!" And turn your attention to other things. What admirer of feminine beauty would not look upon a bright mind, quick, kindly wits, and sweet lovableness as a thousand times more acceptable than a neck as round and perfect as that of a Venus?