The speaking shades of yellow and orange are much affected by German ladies for dressing-sacks, and also for the knitted tippets which our Teutonic friends wear, in and out of the house, from October to July. Canary yellow is delicate and becoming to most, but it is German taste to wear orange.
At first, perhaps, with a sense of the fitness of things, the négligée is worn only in one’s own room. She says: “It’s so comfortable!” There are degrees in comfort, varying from the easy, perfect fit of one’s own skin to a party gown which dazzles envious observers, and why is the adjective reserved for the educated but abbreviated Mother Hubbard?
“The apparel oft proclaims the man,” and even more is woman dependent upon her clothes for physical, moral, and intellectual support. An uncorseted body will soon make its influence felt upon the mind. The steel-and-whalebone spine which properly reinforces all feminine vertebra is literally the backbone of a woman’s self-respect.
Would the iceman or the janitor hesitate to “talk back” to the uncorseted lady in a pink dressing-sack?—Hardly!
But confront the erring man with a quiet, dignified woman in a crisp shirt-waist and a clean collar—verily he will think twice before he ventures an excuse for his failings.
The iceman and the grocery boy see more dressing-sacks than most others, for they are privileged to approach the back doors of residences, and to hold conversations with the lady of the house, after the departure of him whose duty and pleasure it is to pay for the remnants. And in the lower strata they are known by their clothes.
“Fifty pounds for the red dressing-sack,” says the iceman to his helper, “and a hundred for the blue. Step lively now!”
And how should madame know that her order for a steak, a peck of potatoes, and two lemons, is registered in the grocery boy’s book under the laconic title, “Pink”?
After breakfast, when she sits down to read the paper and make her plans for the day, the insidious dressing-sack gets in its deadly work.