From Kitchen to Garret: Hints for young householders

by J. E. Panton

CHAPTER XII.
DRESSING-ROOM.

There is no doubt in my mind that the proper furniture for Edwin’s dressing-room has not yet been evolved out of the inner consciousness of some enterprising and clever designer of dressing-tables and wardrobes. Of course there are plenty of so-called gentlemen’s wardrobes, but I have never yet found one that was perfectly satisfactory, and if any one knows of one I should be very glad to hear from that happy creature.

I am quite sure gentlemen’s coats should never be suspended from hooks, for if they are hung up there is always an unpleasant bulge in the collar, and it is impossible to keep the wretched things in shape; almost as impossible as it is to make a man look nice unless he has a valet to look after his clothes, brush them, fold them, and, in fact, turn him out respectably, with a neatly folded, clean umbrella and decent hat—that is to say, the ordinary male, who has business occupations, and gets up at the very last moment he can, to be able to snatch his breakfast and then catch his train.

I have, personally, no very expensive yearnings, but when I see one who shall be nameless in a coat that looks as if it had voyaged up the chimney and back, nether garments that, to put it mildly, have seen better days, and a hat that would disgrace the Sunday get-up of his own coachman, and hear that no one is to touch the venerable accumulation in a wardrobe upstairs, I do long for a good, strong-minded man-servant indoors who would see to his master’s clothes, and insist on their being worn properly and treated decently.

This sounds like straying from the subject, but it really is not, for one unanswerable argument which puts a stop to a great deal of my eloquence is, ‘If I had a decent place to keep my clothes in I should always look respectable.’ Now, my readers shall give me their opinion as to the decency, or otherwise, of the accommodation afforded to this nameless individual.

In the first place, there is a charming-looking wardrobe in ash. The top is embellished by a ledge, on which artistic pottery is meant to stand, but where at this present moment repose a microscope, a lamp, very grimy and full of dreadful-looking oil that no one may touch, several dusty piles of lectures and reports of divers societies, and on the plain space below are at least five paper bandboxes, containing old and dilapidated hats, all more or less suggestive of Noah’s ark and scarecrows; yet one and all far too precious to give away, and which no one dare touch, on pain of instant death.

One half of this wardrobe is lined with striped calico, against the dust, and is used for hanging up coats, dressing-gowns, &c., and where there is quite a crowd of the most hideous old coats, all too precious to part with—I can’t think why—and then on the other side there is a deep space sacred to trousers, and three deep drawers besides, for shirts and under-garments of all kinds. Now this is actually not sufficient accommodation, and I have other drawers in the bedroom itself, where stores of summer or winter raiment, as the case may be, repose; and the dress things are also in yet another place; but I do think it is rather a mistake to have so much space for spoiling coats by hanging them up, and I am thinking of having shelves put in in that division, and seeing if that will be any good at all, though, as it is so much easier to hang up a coat than to fold it up, I much fear there will be strenuous opposition to that plan—at least at the first.

A wardrobe is a necessity in a dressing-room—unless one is lucky enough to find a good deep cupboard there already—and they can be bought at all prices. The one described above was about 10l., and is certainly very pretty, but I am sure it is nothing like as useful or as well arranged as it ought to be, and I have one in the nursery, which is all drawers and shelves, that cost 4l. 10s., and is hideous, which I am thinking of having painted turquoise blue, and adding brass handles and substituting this for the ash one, which can go nicely into the spare room, where it will no longer be desecrated with all sorts of débris being placed where pretty china is meant to go. There is one piece of furniture, invented by Mr. Watts, of Grafton Street, Tottenham Court Road, W., which is, however, perfect for a dressing-room, and therefore deserves more than a word of mention.

It is a combination of dressing-table and washing-stand that is simply invaluable. A long glass starts on the right-hand side from three drawers, with a place for brushes and combs, while on the left is ample space for washing, with a high tiled back, and a species of shelf to hold bottles, glasses, &c. There is also a deep space under the marble shelf on which the jug and basin stand, meant for boots, and covered in with a cretonne curtain on a brass rod, and is altogether as charming, artistic-looking, and useful a piece of furniture as any one would wish; it costs 6l. 10s. in stained deal, is beautifully made, and would not only be useful in a dressing-room, but in a young girl’s room or any small place where there really is not sufficient accommodation for both washing-stand and toilet-table. I have narrow tapestry mats trimmed with ball fringe on the shelves, but I should not like to say how many have been wanted there, for men never can remember that wet sponges should be put in the sponge-dish and not on the new covers, or that brushes are best in the drawers intended for them, and not for sundry bits and scraps of paper, old soiled gloves, spoiled white ties, cartridges, fly-books, bits of gut, string, ‘objects’ for microscopes, and other nastinesses ‘too numerous to mention,’ as the auctioneers say when they have come to the end of their descriptive resources.

And, apropos of this, let me beg Angelina never to allow accumulations in either small or big drawers if she can possibly help it; nothing breeds moths or harbours dust like this, and I should advise her occasionally to brave Edwin’s wrath, and turn out on her own account, if he is obdurate, and will keep every scrap and shred of rubbish that has ever come into his possession, because he cannot believe a time will not come when the possession of a few inches of paper, string, or catgut will be of paramount importance to him, and when a store of old clothes will stand between him and utter and entire destitution of raiment.