I remember how impressed I was in one of my earliest walks, window gazing in Calle Florida, by the curious care certain shopkeepers had taken to display articles which in New York would have been heaped in tray-loads and ticketed, “Anything in this basket 20 cts.” In fancy goods dealers’, for example, insignificant little purses and common pencil-holders, cheap fountain pens and little desk calendars, paper knives, and all the familiar odds and ends which are classed under the generic head of “fancy goods,” were not crowded into the window, as with us, suggesting overflowing richness of stock, but were each disposed in solitary state at respectful distance from one another, much as though they were valuable jewels, and indeed when one noted the prices, they might have been precious stones, for a leather purse which would sell in New York for a dollar would there be ticketed relatively at $3. I paid exactly $3.15 for a small loose-leaf pocket book, an exact copy of which I had previously bought in London for $1.30.
The chief disparity between English and South American prices is found in articles of clothing, which, fortunately for most temporary residents, is a matter that does not greatly trouble them, as it is always possible to take sufficient clothing to last one for a considerable period. But certainly when you see an ordinary straw hat, that would sell in the Strand, London, for $1.25 ticketed somewhere around $4 you are inclined to catch your breath. The common “bowler,” that sells in London at $1.50 will cost you anything from four to five dollars; while the average price for a suit of clothes made to measure in Buenos Ayres, equivalent in all respects to a suit costing twenty dollars in London, is fifty dollars. Consequently, many Argentines have their measure taken by a London tailor, who, charging them thirty dollars for a suit (thus leaving an unusual margin of profit to himself) enables the purchaser, after paying $10 import duty, to wear an actual London made suit for 20 per cent. less than he can get one of inferior quality made in Buenos Ayres.
To give anything like an exhaustive list of the excessive prices charged for the simplest necessities in the way of personal clothing might be to lay oneself open to the charge of exaggeration, except that, fortunately, I have preserved several newspaper advertisements as evidence of the bona fides of any statements I have made, should these ever be called in question. So far as clothing is concerned, I shall limit myself to the further statement that on the day of my leaving Buenos Ayres for travel further afield, I bought one dozen pairs of common socks, which in London sell for 40 cts. a pair, and paid for these exactly forty pesos, or $1.40 per pair. This was one of the few occasions, during my stay in South America, when I found it necessary to purchase any articles of personal wear, and afterwards on looking at the prices in New York and London stores, I congratulated myself very heartily that I went forth to my adventures in South America well stocked. I remember an English traveller, whose business takes him to Buenos Ayres for three months of every year, stating in the most emphatic manner that he would rather walk down Florida in his shirt tail than commit the economic crime of purchasing a stitch of clothing in the town,—and he was not a Scotsman!
It might be thought that the Gringo was a legitimate object of prey for the harpy shopkeepers of Buenos Ayres, but it is not so. The present writer, being not only competent to ask for anything in the native language, but, when occasion serves, to engage in heated and lengthy discussion in that delightful tongue, never found it possible to secure better terms than were granted to any Gringo who could not utter a sentence of Spanish. It is not a case of one tariff for the native and, another for the foreigner, as we find in Paris and other European resorts. The native pays as highly—and, from long practice, much more cheerfully—for all that he buys, as the stranger.
In proof of this, I cannot quote a better example than that afforded by an incident in which the silk hat of my native secretary figured somewhat eminently. He had been wearing it one Sunday at some special function—for the “stove pipe” is throughout Latin America the symbol of importance and of special occasions, as it used to be in England—and, happening to be caught in a heavy shower, he required to send it round to the hatter’s for ironing next morning. His wife, also a native, speaking only Spanish, called in and took the hat back home (errand boys are at a premium). The charge made for merely ironing the hat was 4 pesos ($1.68). The good lady had no idea whether this was much or little, but her husband considered it a trifle excessive, as he, having lived some little time in New York, and having found it possible to have a hat ironed there for 10 cents went round to the Buenos Ayres hatter, and after much argument succeeded in recovering two pesos, or 50 per cent. of the charge from that gentleman, who was quite indifferent to the business, and told him to keep his old hat at home, as he had no wish to iron anybody’s hats!
That is the spirit in which all repairing business is done. If you want anything repaired, you have got to pay so much that it is about as cheap to buy a new article. One day my watch stopped: the spring was not broken, and evidently it was only some slight fault, requiring, probably, a speck of oil. I left it with the watchmaker and asked him to regulate it. Calling next day, the watch was ready and going perfectly well, but to my surprise I was asked to pay eight pesos ($3.35) for the craftsman’s skill and labour in putting it right.
The Luxurious Domestic Architecture of Buenos Ayres.
The immense building seen in the background of the upper illustration is the home of the Paz family in the Plaza San Martín; the lower view shows a typical “quinta,” or country house of an Argentine magnate in the suburbs.