Fashion and Its Service
By L. A. S.
IN a recent article contributed to The Independent, a French dressmaker, who, after learning her art in leading Paris establishments, came to this country, and has for some years served people of wealth and fashion in New York City, tells the following about the origin and purpose of the changing fashions in dress. Having spoken of her entry as an employee into a prominent Paris establishment, she says:— “It was not very long before I found out just how the fashions are made. There are three great establishments in Paris that lead all others. These have very clever men working for them as designers of cloaks, hats, and dresses. These designers not only know all the recent fashions, but also all the fashions that there were in the world hundreds of years ago. They have books full of pictures to help them, and what they try to do is to make the women change their dresses just as often as possible. That’s the reason they keep changing the fashions. “Each time they make a new fashion, they make it just as unlike the one that went before as can be, so that things that are six months old look ridiculous, and the women all over the world who are trying to follow the fashions put the old dresses away, even though they have been worn only once or twice. One time the sleeves are big at the shoulders and narrow at the wrists, and at another time narrow at the shoulders and big at the wrists. One time the dress is tight at the waist and another time loose, and there are all sorts of changes in the size, shape, and hang of the skirt; and in addition, all the changes of fashion in colors and materials. “The keynote of fashion making is change, for the women all over the world are watching Paris, and they say, ‘You might as well be out of the world, as out of fashion.’ The greater the changes, the more dresses sold. “When these great milliners have decided on the new fashions, they get some of the best-known women in the city to lead off with them. These women are given magnificent costumes of the newest design to wear, and, in some cases, are even paid for wearing them. Of course these women are great beauties, and when they appear in the parks, or at the opera, all the other women envy them, and all those who can, run away and get something of the same kind.” Of the kind of characters which in her experience she found to be associated with love of display, she speaks thus:— “Many of our best customers were Americans. They were all very rich, and we heard that everybody in America was rich. They drove up to our shop in carriages and automobiles, and they wanted dresses like those of the queens and princesses. Some of them spent whole weeks in our shop. “Part of the time I had to help try on, and heard a great deal of the conversation of these ladies. It was all about dress and money. They said that Paris was just like their idea of heaven, though the ones who said that had seen very little except our shop. They were mostly daughters of working people, common laborers, butchers, and shopkeepers who had grown rich some way, yet they were more haughty and proud than our own aristocrats. In fact, they were pretending to be aristocrats. I remember one of this sort who declared that she hated America because it was a republic, and contained so many common people. She was sorry that France was a republic, and hoped it would again soon have a king. Our forewoman always agreed with all the customers, and she agreed with this one till her back was turned. Then she said:— “‘What a fool that woman is! She is coarse enough for the fish market, yet she thinks she can make people believe she is an aristocrat. I wonder what she is proud of.’” As illustrating the martyrdom women are willing to inflict on themselves in order to be fashionable, she relates the following:— “Some of our customers suffered greatly in their efforts to be fashionable, for fashion takes no account of the natural shape of the human body. It did not matter so much to the thin women, because all they had to do was to stuff their figures, but some of the stout women were martyrs. “One very beautiful woman was fat, and would not acknowledge it, as she had been quite slim. “‘My waist measure,’ she said, ‘is twenty-four inches.’ “She insisted on this, and made two of us girls pull her corset strings till we secured the right girth. “‘My! that was a job! The squeezing must have hurt her awfully. She was gasping for breath and perspiring rivers, but she would not give up. “When we sent the dress home, she brought it back. “‘It doesn’t fit,’ she said. “‘Where?’ asked the proprietress. “‘The waist is too small.’ “‘The waist is twenty-four inches. You gave that yourself as your measurement. All you have to do is to have your corsets tightened as they were on the day when you were measured.’ “The poor lady looked at us, and we all nodded assent. We had heard her insist that twenty-four was her measurement. Soon she was again in the hands of the tighteners, gasping and perspiring. “When the corsets were well pulled in, the dress fitted like a glove, but the poor lady’s face was the color of blood, and she could hardly speak. “‘I m—m—must—have—been mistaken!’ she gasped. “‘Certainly!’ said our proprietress. ‘I never saw a better fit.’ “The poor lady staggered away trying to look comfortable. I don’t believe she could wear that dress, though, as she was growing stouter.” Which is better,—to be a devotee and martyr of fashion, living for display which squanders money and excites feelings of envy, hostility, or contempt in the minds of others? or to live that other life which God’s Word commends to us, in which the service of others is the chief aim, and the adorning sought is the inward adorning that commands the respect of man and of God? What folly to shrink from the service of God, and yet be a willing slave of Fashion.