Spite of all that is said against it, charcoal holds the highest place as a tooth-powder. It has the property, too, of opposing putrefaction, and destroying vices of the gums. It is most conveniently used when made into paste with honey.
A fine Cologne is prepared from one gallon of deodorized alcohol, or spirit obtained from the Catawba grape, which is nearly if not quite equal to the grape spirit which gives Farina Cologne its value. To this is added one ounce of oil of lavender, one ounce of oil of orange, two drachms of oil of cedrat, one drachm of oil of neroli or orange flowers, one drachm of oil of rose, and one drachm of ambergris. Mix well, and keep for three weeks in a cool place.
To this list of fragrance add a recipe for common Cologne to use as a toilet water. It is oil of bergamot, lavender, and lemon, each one drachm; oil of rose and jasmine, each ten drops; essence of ambergris, ten drops; spirits of wine, one pint. Mix and keep well closed in a cool place for two months, when it will be fit for use. Ladies will be grateful for this who have known what trouble it is to find a refreshing Cologne which does not smell like cooking extract with lemon or vanilla. If with these hints a woman can not keep herself fragrant and lovely in person, her case must need the help of the physician.
CHAPTER V.
Morals of Paint and Powder.—Antique Toilet Arts.—Washington Ladies.—Making Up the Face.—Whitening the Arms.—Tints of Rouge.—To Make French Rouge.—Milk of Roses.—Greuze Tints.—Coarse Complexions Caused by Powder.—Color for the Lips.—Crystal and Gold Hair Powder.—Dyeing Blonde Wigs.—To Darken the Hair.—Champagne and Black-Walnut Bark.—Doom of the Complexion Artist.
The time has gone by when it was a matter of church discipline if a woman painted her face or wore powder. Nor is it any serious reflection on her moral character if she go abroad with her complexion made up in the forenoon, however it may call her taste in question. All who paint their faces and look forth at their windows are not visited with hard names, else the parlor of every house on the side-streets of New York might have its Jezebel waiting the dinner-hour and the return of masculine admirers. George declares he could never own a wife who used powder; and yet Annie comes down, looking innocent in her pink bows, with a little white bloom on each temple, and a suspicious odor of Lubin’s Violet floating round her. I don’t think George meditates divorce on that account. There is something noble and ingenuous in the sight of an uncovered skin; but we reconcile ourselves to the pearly falsehood, accepting the situation with the false hair, not so gray as it is in front, and the long, artificial-shaped nails, and the cramped feet. Every body knows they are inventions, and accepts them as such, like paste brilliants at a theatre.
The arts of the toilet are as old as Thebes. The painted eye of desire, the burning cheek and dyed nails, were coeval with the wisdom of Alexandria. Of old the Roman ladies used the fine dust of calcined shells and the juices of plants to restore their freshness of color. There is no end to the modern contrivances for the same purpose. Crushed geranium leaves, and the petals of artificial roses which contain carmine, friction with red flannel, and the juice of strawberries, are homely substitutes for rouge. The women of the South are more given to the use of cosmetics than their Northern sisters. Perhaps Washington sets the example to all the states; for nowhere else is seen such liberal use of paint and powder, skillfully applied, as at the capital. There women paint for the breakfast-table, and carry the deception every where. The Spanish-American ladies make the absurd mistake of supposing their rich complexions and dark eyes are not more enticing to Northern eyes than our own cold beauties; so, by the help of toilet bottles, they present faces like Lady Washington geraniums from nine in the morning till they ice themselves to frozen whiteness for the evenings. Whited sepulchres is the phrase forever ringing in one’s head at sight of this folly. What indignation has seized one at sight of Madame ——, the witty and enviable, who had the weakness to mask her lustrous, tropical, Murillo colors—which enchanted every Northern heart—with poor plaster of burned oyster-shells! It was very well for the Treasury blondes, who looked like human peaches till one saw them close, to dabble in white and pink. It suited their style. For these superb Creoles and Sevillians, never!
Both from principle and preference, this book discountenances paint and powder. It believes that a woman needs no other cosmetics than fresh air, exercise, and pure water, which, if freely used, will impart a ruddier glow and more pearly tint to the face than all the rouge and lily-white in Christendom.
But if she must resort to artificial beauty, let her be artistic about it, and not lay on paint as one would furniture polish, to be rubbed in with rags. The best and cheapest powder is refined chalk in little pellets, each enough for an application. Powder is a protection and comfort on long journeys or in the city dust. If the pores of the skin must be filled, one would prefer clean dust, to begin with. A layer of powder will prevent freckles and sun-burn when properly applied. It cools feverish skins, and its use can be condoned when it modifies the contrast between red arms and white evening dresses. In amateur theatricals it is indispensable, the foot-lights throwing the worst construction on even good complexions. In all these cases it is worth while to know how to use it well. The skin should be as clean and cool as possible, to begin. A pellet of chalk, without any poisonous bismuth in it, should be wrapped in coarse linen and crushed in water, grinding it well between the fingers. Then wash the face quickly with the linen, and the wet powder oozes in its finest state through the cloth, leaving a pure white deposit when dry. Press the face lightly with a damp handkerchief to remove superfluous powder, wiping the brows and nostrils free. This mode of using chalk is less easily detected than when it is dusted on dry.
The best foundation for Lubin’s powder is gained by soaping the face well, and taking care not to rinse off all the smooth, glossy feeling it leaves. Dry the face without wiping, and the thinnest layer of oil is left, which holds the dry powder, without that mealy look which Lubin is apt to leave. To whiten the arms for theatricals, rub them first with glycerine, not letting the skin absorb it all, and apply chalk. The country practice is to substitute a tallow candle for the glycerine; but ours is a progressive age. At least the moral feeling leads one to spare an escort’s coat-sleeve.