 | Saratoga in 1901 |  |
ELI PERKINS' SERMON.
My dear dancing sisters:
There are two ways of “stunning”
people by an exhibition of taste, and
we see them both illustrated daily at
Saratoga. The plebeian “stuns”
with positive colors, yellow, black,
blue, and green; with powdered hair,
and a very steeple of hair, à la Pompadour,
projecting from the apex of
the head. They walk or hitch along
with shoulders bent forward, the
upper portion of the arm as dead and
useless as if made of gutta percha,
while the backs of their wrists become
dangling right angles, swinging in the air like Fourth of July pinwheels.
They have transformed their beautifully curved shoulders
into humped backs, until deformed Richard III. takes the
place of the proud Apollo.
Why do not these dear, silly creatures hold
their heads proudly erect, and throw back
their beautiful shoulders, as if proud to carry
the face of Diana, and not walk as if borne
down, like Atlas, with a ponderous globe?
Why do they not hold their hands and arms
gracefully, as if posed by Canova, and not as
if tied by a policeman? Look at the shoulders
of St. Catharine, in the Sistine Madonna,
see how proudly she stands? The fickle goddess
of fashion—of plebeian fashion—has
never dared to enter the sanctuary of the artists
who worship at the shrine of the beautiful
and the true.
THE CONTRAST.
There is another type of womanhood in Congress Hall—a
patrician type which comes from cultivation and generations of
good blood. She wears no bright colors. Her eyes delight in
subtile symphonies—symphonies in music and color, too. She
does not wear yellow, and blue, and scarlet—but she mingles
them together as the painter mingles his paints on his palette,
and produces a warm symphony in brown or drab—perhaps the
lovely pongee. If she wears blue, she puts white in it, making
it look like the sky, or darkens it to the blue of the ocean. If
she wears scarlet, she tones it down with blue till it becomes
maroon. If she wears chrome yellow, she tones it down with
white till it becomes straw color—always a symphony.
Her shoulders are proudly erect, like the Venus de Medici,
and her arms rest in nature's attitude, like the arms of Thorwaldsen's
Graces—palms to the front. Her hair is gracefully
dressed, high up on the head, to show the beautiful curves of the
neck; and not stuffed or swelled into a clumsy globe, to
hang like a dead weight down upon the back. In the end she
“stuns” people in a civilized way—with grace, style and purity;
while the plebeian stuns with picturesque colors, deformed shoulders
and flopping hands.
There is a young lady at Congress Hall so graceful, so very
stylish, and yet so plain in her attire, that when she walks across
the room she is the centre of attraction. I venture to say that
she knows more of art, of sculpture, and of the true beauty of
form and style and color than all the plebeian girls in the house.
AMONG GENTLEMEN
we see the same idea illustrated. Yesterday when the carriages
came up I saw a gilded four-in-hand, with white reins and coachmen
in yellow liveries. Everybody looked as they would look
at a row of peacocks on dress-parade, for the turnout was a
“stunner!” By-and-by up came an English drag, jet black,
with one seventeen-hand horse. There was a harness for utility,
with steel buckles, and the coachman was garbed in modest
black. It was a “swell” turnout, but the owner has taste and
he “stuns” with a rig of plain and simple elegance.
THE NEWEST SENSATION
in watering-place costumes (and I give you the first transatlantic
wave) is the Elizabethan costume in Cretonne. Some call it
the Dolly Varden. It consists of light or dark material covered
with immense bouquets, variegated figures, and flowers. The
over a dark skirt with black velvet bows and garlands of variegated
wild-wood flowers (artificial). The hat is a Charles II.
chapeau, made of fine leghorn, the brim lined with black velvet,
and cocked up on one side. It has a nobby and jaunty air,
carrying you back to the time of Elizabeth and the seventeen
days' tournaments at Kenilworth.
THESE CRETONNE SUITS
were first made by Worth for the Empress to wear to the Longchamp
races in June last year, before King William thundered
down over the Bavarian border. Last August Mrs. Belmont
appeared with a suit at Newport and created a sensation.
This summer I notice several suits here among the leading
fashionables. They have a place—a legitimate place at the
races, where gentlemen wear veils and feathers, and scarlet neckties.
GENTLEMEN'S TOILETS
at Saratoga are about thus: In the morning, straw hats or Tyrolese
with feather, white or checked suits with fancy cravats.
The dinner dress or afternoon promenade dress of our swell
fellows is light-drab trousers, double-breasted English frock coat
(black), with necktie and gloves of light material and matching
in color. Vest white.
Evening Dress—Black dress coat, vest, and trowsers, white
necktie and gloves, and crush hat. The crush hat comes very
handy here, as the evening hops are more like an afternoon
reception in the city.
DRESSING AT SARATOGA.
There is not so much dressing among the nicer people here
this season as usual. Of course ladies have their regular full-dress
toilets for the Friday evening dress-balls, but during the
week, in the morning and evening and at dinners, quiet, subdued
colors predominate. Many of our best-dressed ladies lounge in
London drab pongee suits during the forenoon and go into muslins,
grenadines and tarletans in the evening. Silk skirts, with
French embroidered overskirts, always beautiful, are indulged
in by those who have been abroad, and who have revelled among
the beautiful things and cheap prices at the Paris Bon Marché.
BENCHES IN CONGRESS SPRING PARK.
One of the saddest discomforts to young lovers, newly-married
people, and young gentlemen who desire to get certain young
ladies “on the string,” is the absence of benches in the park.
There is only one bench where two people can sit and talk in the
whole inclosure. This bench is in a conspicuous location on the
hill, commanding all the approaches, to be sure, and so situated as
to incur no very quick surprises on the part of the dog-in-the-manger
pirates who spend their time watching hand-holding
beaux, or susceptible bachelors, always on the point of proposing.
Every lover in Saratoga knows where the double bench is situated.
You will always see it occupied morning, noon, and night;
while hovering around, within accessible distance, will be a half
dozen couples waiting for the next chance to sit there.
Yesterday I visited the bench with my old “statician”—a crusty
old bachelor, who unseen has watched this bench for twenty years.
He has the name and address of every young lady and every
lover who have held hands on this bench, the number of kisses
stolen or given away, and the names of the stealer and the
stealee. He showed me his record book. Great Heavens! What
secrets were there. What a flutter it would cause in Congress
Hall, I thought, to publish them.
STATISTICS.
“How many young ladies have allowed
their hands to be held willingly?” I
asked of the “statician.”
“1152,” he answered.
“How many unwillingly?”
“None.—Yes, twenty by their
husbands.”
“How many unmarried ladies
have been kissed there?”
“1391—all willingly?”
“How many married ladies have
been kissed there willingly?”
“976—mostly by young lovers.”
“How many wives have been kissed
willingly by husbands?”
“482—but they were other ladies' husbands.”
“Where do these kissers and kissees mostly come from?”
“New York and the Clarendon.”
“What gentlemen have occupied this bench the most for the
last ten years?”
“My statician now opened his book mysteriously, and I read
the names: W. H. C—, J. F—, Mr. G—ves, F. L—d,
O—r, L—stone, —F— Z—ga, C— S—th, E. A.
H—d, J. C—on, P. G—nat, F. J—son, G. L—aw,
F. M—an, J. S—in, O. Ark—urg and 2200 others.—
What a record!!
“How is the proper way to occupy this bench with a sweetheart?”
I asked.
“Never tell?”
“N-e-v-e-r!”
“Well, saunter along with a large daily newspaper, spread it
over your laps, holding it with one hand, while your sweet-heart
holds it with the other. This leaves to each a hand free under
the paper. These hands will naturally seek each other, and there
you can sit and defy detection from the most observing. Such
cases I never watch. They defy detection.”
Now, for the good of humanity, for the benefit of scolding
husbands, loving brides, spooney lovers, and the great army of
flirters at Saratoga, I plead for more benches in the park—more
seats for two persons—more seats close together. Then love will
not have to struggle so hard for a manifestation—then Cupid will
be invited to the shady park and wedding rings will make
the chief commerce of Saratoga. Amen.
| Saratoga in 1901 | |