The veil of the Turkish women of fashion is of the thinnest gauze; it allows the full outline of the features to be distinctly seen, and if the wearer is pretty you are sure to know it. And between you and me many who are not altogether pretty are made so by the veil which softens the hard outlines and tempers any excess of color.
The street car dropped us at the point indicated by our guide, and we entered the bazaar through a gateway possessing an architectural feature worthy of notice. The first place we visited was the bazaar of drugs, and as we entered it a thousand peculiar odors saluted our nostrils; some of them possessing great pungency and power of penetration. For a minute or so the odor was almost intoxicating; it was much like that which we experience in America on entering a drug and perfumery establishment on a large scale.
The street or passage-way is quite narrow and on either side are small shops with open fronts. The floor of the shop is about three feet above the ground, and is so arranged that the merchant squatted within can use the front part of the floor as a counter for the display of his wares.
For storage purposes there were shelves, and the merchant could reach whatever was wanted without rising from his place. On the projecting platform at either side of the shop, there were sacks of henna—used for coloring a great many things, the eyebrows and finger-nails of women included—and there were other sacks containing dates and various kinds of nuts. Drugs of unknown names and quantities were exhibited, and in many respects each shop appeared very much like its neighbor.
Immediately on entering we find ourselves in the place set apart for perfumery, and if we wish to purchase ottar of rose, musk, essence of bergamot, oil of sandal wood, or any of that kind of goods, now is our chance. The merchants here seem to think that the chief end of foreign man and especially woman is to buy ottar of rose, and you are offered the article in all sorts of flasks and bottles They have a curious looking bottle, shaped like one’s finger but longer in proportion to its width, which holds only a few drops of the precious liquid.
Each man assures you that his is the only genuine article of the kind in the city, and that you will be cheated if you go elsewhere. You are allowed to smell of the merchandise, and by way of convincing you of the genuineness of what they offer, they show you a small bottle of the counterfeit with the assurance that they never sell it and only keep it to show.
There is more humbug and nonsense in the purchase and sale of ottar of rose than in anything else that is dealt in, in the Orient. Every guide can take you to the only merchant in the city who sells the genuine article, and no two guides take you to the same merchant.