I have, as stated, been repeatedly and anxiously pressed to say what I thought the price of sundry articles of riding-gear ought to be, and as the subject was a difficult one to propound, have thought it best to give the amount usually paid for goods of first-class description, leaving it, of course, to the intelligence of the reader to surmise (even when not plainly stated) that prices vary according to quality, and acknowledging that it is quite possible for a lady to furnish herself with a complete hunting outfit at a very much lower scale of charges than that which I cited in my last. It is just a question of how long she expects her things to wear, and how well she expects them to look when the first gloss (always an arrant deceiver) has worn off them. Low-priced articles never stand the test; they may look fairly well to the eye when first put on, but time and weather place a stamp upon them with which the owner cannot but feel disappointed. Take a few examples. It seems to many a great extravagance to give a seemingly high price for a riding-hat, when at half the shops in town a fairly good-looking one can be bought for half the money. Quite true. But place the two hats side by side together after a hard season’s continual wear and tear, and see whether the Lincoln and Bennet or Madame White will not be bravely holding its own, when the other is only fit for the dustman’s cart. In like manner, you may purchase a riding habit for five guineas,—I have seen them made to order scores of times at that price—but I have never yet seen one of such articles able to hold up its head after immersion in a muddy stream, while very many of them could not even stand a heavy shower of rain without showing spots or “cockles,” or both. Then, again, you can get a Newmarket covert coat for £3—not at all a bad-looking one either—quite a jaunty article, in fact; a neat plaid if you like it, and gorgeous big buttons if your fancy happens to turn that way,—but just think of the seams that are all machine-stitched, ready to act shabbily by you at the most inconvenient moments, and of the uncertain nature of the material, which is dreadfully wont to wear “tender” in highly important places: under the arms, for instance, and where the collar fastens in front; and of the awful moments which you will have to endure, tugging hard at it, or getting somebody else to do so, in order to work it off; and think of the still more painful and embarrassing ordeal that awaits you in endeavouring to draw it over your habit-bodice, to which it seems to cling as provokingly as though birdlime had been scattered over both,—all because it has not any nice, smooth, slippery satin lining to make it slide easily over the garment that it is meant to cover. Even if perchance your persuasions have induced the maker of the wonderful thing to augment its monetary value by the insertion of a satin lining in the bodice, you perceive with horror, after an incredibly short period of time, that the silk facing has completely worn off it, and that long stretches of discoloured cotton threads are intersecting the fabric in every inconvenient direction.
With boots and gloves it is just the same; you can get them very cheap. I have seen capital-looking boots in shop windows ticketed eight shillings per pair, and gloves 1s. 6½d. (always a ha’penny, when it is not three farthings), and I have no doubt that plenty of people buy them—they must do so, or such things would not be so numerous; but an important query remains behind: namely, how long can these articles be made to last—even such of them as look moderately decent at the first go-off?
There are, however, without doubt, very many ways in which small economies may be justifiably practised, with results by no means discreditable to the appearance of even the most dashing equestrian. If, then, you want to appear at all times fairly well turned out, and yet cannot command sufficient capital from your dress allowance to enable you to extend your custom to first-class houses, you can take a “tip” or two from the following hints:—
Look carefully over the columns of the various leading journals which contain an “exchange and mart,” and you will be almost certain to see some advertisements of riding habits made by high-class makers and only worn a few times—occasionally never worn at all, and only parted with because the owner has been compelled to give up riding, or is going away. If the size of the waist seems to suit you, answer without delay, and if, when sent on approval, you find that the cut and quality are good, close at once with the bargain, and get such alterations effected in the article as may happen to be required. I have known one or two ladies with very moderate dress allowances who secured really excellent riding habits in this way,—but, of course, everything will depend upon the maker; a high-class house rarely or never turns out an indifferent cloth, and the cut is certain to be good.
Again, you may be able to borrow a pair of well-made riding trousers from some intimate lady friend, and if you are smart and can make a couple of pairs for your own use by the pattern lent you, it will be a great saving of expense. Breeches will be more difficult to accomplish successfully: in fact, I regard the cutting of them by amateurs as very nearly impossible, so perhaps they had better not be attempted: but, with proper self-measurements and a good pattern before you, I can see no reason why comfortable riding-trousers should not be creditably turned out. When making these, cut the linings for the different parts the exact size of the various pieces, and take care to tack piece and lining together before running up the whole. If this is not done you will experience great difficulty in adjusting the linings when the garment has been put together—indeed, you will probably fail completely, for it is a most difficult thing to do, and the plan I have named is a very good one, although the seams cannot (when it is adopted) look quite as neat on the inside as if a tailor had had the doing of the job. If you want to avoid the trouble of arranging linings at all, procure some strong soft chamois leather, make your trousers of it, and cover them from a short distance above the knee with cloth similar in colour to that of which your habit is composed. Use silk thread for seam-sewing—strong, and of the best quality—and when putting on the buttons wind the thread round and round the stems after you have stitched them firmly to the garment, so as to form a sort of artificial shank; then fasten off very securely upon the wrong or inner side.
If your resources are extremely limited, do not buy silk hats at all. Low-priced ones are mere delusions, and it will be better for you to invest the amount usually given for second-rate articles—say from 12s. to 15s.—in a good, serviceable felt, or billycock, which will stand a large amount of ordinary knocking about.
By wearing riding trousers instead of breeches you can dispense with Wellingtons, and be content with ordinary boots; anything that you can walk comfortably in will do, but remember I do not believe that any woman has ever yet been able conscientiously to say that she walked “comfortably,” or indeed otherwise than miserably, in narrow-waisted, high-heeled boots, with toes an inch wide (or something less) at the tip. A street or two may be traversed in such articles without actual pain, or any perceptible show of inconvenience, but a walk of five miles will probably necessitate the services of a chiropodist, while half the distance will show a decidedly altered gait.
The third item of advice which I have given you, namely to take good care of your things when you have them, is one to which you will do well to take heed. Negligence concerning the guardianship of one’s wearing apparel generally proceeds from one of two causes: either from a natural carelessness of disposition, which leads to all sorts of shiftless and untidy ways; or to a foolish desire—if among wealthy or showy people—to affect an air of indifference concerning cost. I have seen examples of both these dispositions; a girl who just stepped out of her riding-gear, and left it there behind her, habit wet and muddy, hat spotted with rain, veil never folded, boots flung anywhere, whip and gloves in different corners, sometimes in different rooms, or on the hall table, to be certainly missing when next wanted to be used: a sort of girl who kept jam-pots in her press, and matches in her work-box, and who rooted for everything she wanted, precisely as a dog does when burying a bone.
On the whole, however, I am not quite certain whether she is not preferable to one of the vainer sort, who strides over sharp stones, and plunges in and out of muddy pools when there is any distance to be walked, rather than have it supposed that she is picking her way in order to save her boots; who eats bread-and-butter without removing her gloves, for reasons of a similar sort; and who puts on a smile of unconcern when her hostess’s lap-dog makes a meal off her whip-lash, or mistakes the handle of it for a bone.
Few things are more to be avoided than a studied carefulness about matters of costume—when others are by,—the practice, for instance, of tucking up a mantle rather than sitting upon it—of smoothing the back of the skirt before taking a seat—of guarding the hands from contact with any object that may possibly impart a soil to the gloves—and so forth, all of which are signs of lack of breeding, and are, as a rule, peculiar to persons unaccustomed to mix in society,—but the opposite extreme is quite as little to be admired. The best bred are those who appear wholly unconscious of having anything on that is worth fussing about: just as the best dressed are invariably those upon whose costume no onlooker would ever pass a remark.