An easy and popular manner of solving the problem of what to wear is to reproduce the dress which is being worn by the heroine of some very favoured play. Véronique, in her pale-green silk and white muslin draperies, was a recent opportunity much adopted, and for years no fancy-dress ball was complete without at least three Kate Hardcastles, while Juliets were to be found in every doorway, and a dancing Faust would lack no choice of Margarets.
The Calico ball proclaims itself pre-eminently thrifty in its intention, and remarkably pretty effects may be obtained with cotton fabrics, if sufficient intelligence be used in the design of the dresses. To achieve the effect of an "old print," white crêpe cotton and pale blue sateen, with a straw bonnet banded with the blue and a pink rose beneath, may be recommended as useful ingredients. The "Marcus Stone" girl, as we familiarly call a maiden clad in white muslin with a frilled fichu, is another heroine whose frock lends itself readily to cheap material, and we have always at our disposal the ever-popular red, white, and blue flag, yet bunting is not the most comfortable of fabrics for the enthusiastic dancer. The embodiment of the Seasons, although considerably hackneyed, may safely be accomplished with cottons and muslins and swansdown, leaves, and flowers; and a very effective dress is the Rainbow, in which rainbow crêpe of Japanese manufacture is an ideal assistant.
Chiffon is indispensable to the success of many a frock. In a dress which shall represent Smoke, for instance, the chiffon ought to be of a dark-grey tone, and yards and yards should be wound about the figure and the head, the sleeves being wing-shaped, the stockings and shoes to match. "Flames" may also be embodied with orange-red and yellow chiffon, draped round with liberality, it being understood in both these cases that a thin, tightly-fitting petticoat and under-bodice be supplied of pongee to match the chiffon.
AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY PIERROT.
A good idea for a fancy-dress ball, if not one based perhaps upon the truest spirit of poetry, is "Greens"; chiffon or silk of many shades of green, with a head-dress in the shape of a cabbage. Very successful, though not inexpensive, is the Oyster dress, composed of a very thin white satin lined with pink satin, adorned at discretion with fringes of pearls, while a pink chiffon chemisette is gauged to admiration upon the draped white satin bodice, and the coiffure of the wearer is surmounted by a coronet of oyster shells set on a bandeau of pale-pink chiffon, with a floating veil of a deeper pink.
The White Queen from Alice in Wonderland can be cheaply and sufficiently represented by a frock of white calico, with the hooped skirt set in a succession of thickly padded rolls, the hair net of white chenille, surmounted by a crown of white cardboard painted with the title. Ingenious, but perhaps not very becoming, is a dress of white linen, with a big clock painted in the middle of the skirt, the hands pointing to, say, 5 A.M., with the obvious purpose of suggesting that the wearer is "Better late than never." A character which never fails to attract at the gay carnival is Mephistopheles, the feminine or masculine variety being alike adopted with avidity, in bright red, feather in the cap, and a little shoulder-cape, and spangles complete. A good costume for a man is the Druid, when he can arrange voluminous white draperies as he will, and take unto himself the liberty of the mistletoe wreath. A popular habit prevails of embodying the names of certain illustrated journals, and representing the titles of some books. Some daring innovator suggests labelling himself as a Doctor, and vows he represents the "Dark Lantern," and the principle opens up a large field for selection. Why should not an ordinary evening-dress-coated gentleman be labelled "The Sphinx's Lawyer," and "The Coming Race" be expressed by the Oxford and Cambridge crews limned on satin; and "The Imaginative Man" might have a pair of wings fixed to the shoulders of his ordinary broadcloth, a sign that he imagines himself an angel. The ground is fruitful of suggestion.
"Fancy me in fancy dress," sings some gay lady in some gay play, and the notion is full of fascination, which may best be realised, not by the borrowing of clothes, but by making them, planning them, inventing them, and, above all, wearing them with grace. We have passed the days and nights when we yearned to represent some tragic figure—when to appear as Marie Antoinette or Mary Queen of Scots seemed the pinnacle of delight. Gone too are the times when the representation of the lamp-shade would exhaust the inventive power of the many, and fled are our desires to coquette as a Columbine or flit as a fairy in white tulle.
In an assembly where none are masked, a masked girl may attract conspicuous attention, a monk who never draws cowl from his face may have a following of the curious; she who would dress as Money, in gold or yellow satin, jingling with golden coins, may be assured that she will be run after, and she who represents Cleopatra, or some other Oriental queen, blazing with jewels, will not be allowed to sit in a corner.
An audacious selection is the costume of the Wallflower in gold and brown, which looks its best when made in chiffon and velvet.