Philosophy of the Modern Flapper
By Jane Gaites.
Tonight when you shall gather me in your strong loving arms and marvel at the radiance of my eyes, the golden glamour of my hair, the velvety softness of my pink cheeks, while you tell me you love me, I shall smile.
And you will be content thinking that I smile because of love for you. You will wonder at my naivete, at my simplicity, and innocence. You do not know of my rows and rows of expensive jars that make me beautiful. You do not guess that untold experience has made me “simple.”
And when you draw me even closer to you and kiss me again, more passionately, while you smile at my sweet demureness and simplicity, I too will smile, because with all your vast knowledge of women—dear boy, you are so simple!
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“This falls just a little below my expectations,” said the blushing young thing to her dressmaker as she surveyed herself in the mirror. As to what the blushing young thing meant by expectations, you can use your own judgment.
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No, gentle reader, the bull durham outfit is not responsible for the practice: “Roll Your Own.”
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