Elegantly Dressed Wednesday: A cushion
And what a sublime one, plucked from the riches available at bonjourmoncoussin.com.
Talking of foreign cushions puts me in mind of this gag from Three Men on the Bummel.
“They are somewhat peculiar in some things, these Germans.”
I said: “What has happened?”
“Well,” he answered, “there was that cushion I wanted.”
“For your aunt,” I remarked.
“Why not?” he returned. He was huffy in a moment; I never knew a man so touchy about an aunt. “Why shouldn’t I send a cushion to my aunt?”
“Don’t get excited,” I replied. “I am not objecting; I respect you for it.”
He recovered his temper, and went on:
“There were four in the window, if you remember, all very much alike, and each one labelled in plain figures twenty marks. I don’t pretend to speak German fluently, but I can generally make myself understood with a little effort, and gather the sense of what is said to me, provided they don’t gabble. I went into the shop. A young girl came up to me; she was a pretty, quiet little soul, one might almost say, demure; not at all the sort of girl from whom you would have expected such a thing. I was never more surprised in all my life.”
“Surprised about what?” I said.
George always assumes you know the end of the story while he is telling you the beginning; it is an annoying method.
“At what happened,” replied George; “at what I am telling you. She smiled and asked me what I wanted. I understood that all right; there could have been no mistake about that. I put down a twenty mark piece on the counter and said:
“Please give me a cushion.”
“She stared at me as if I had asked for a feather bed. I thought, maybe, she had not heard, so I repeated it louder. If I had chucked her under the chin she could not have looked more surprised or indignant.
“She said she thought I must be making a mistake.
“I did not want to begin a long conversation and find myself stranded. I said there was no mistake. I pointed to my twenty mark piece, and repeated for the third time that I wanted a cushion, ‘a twenty mark cushion.’
“Another girl came up, an elder girl; and the first girl repeated to her what I had just said: she seemed quite excited about it. The second girl did not believe her—did not think I looked the sort of man who would want a cushion. To make sure, she put the question to me herself.
“‘Did you say you wanted a cushion?’ she asked.
“‘I have said it three times,’ I answered. ‘I will say it again—I want a cushion.’
“She said: ‘Then you can’t have one.’
“I was getting angry by this time. If I hadn’t really wanted the thing I should have walked out of the shop; but there the cushions were in the window, evidently for sale. I didn’t see why I couldn’t have one.
“I said: ‘I will have one!’ It is a simple sentence. I said it with determination.
“A third girl came up at this point, the three representing, I fancy, the whole force of the shop. She was a bright-eyed, saucy-looking little wench, this last one. On any other occasion I might have been pleased to see her; now, her coming only irritated me. I didn’t see the need of three girls for this business.
“The first two girls started explaining the thing to the third girl, and before they were half-way through the third girl began to giggle—she was the sort of girl who would giggle at anything. That done, they fell to chattering like Jenny Wrens, all three together; and between every half-dozen words they looked across at me; and the more they looked at me the more the third girl giggled; and before they had finished they were all three giggling, the little idiots; you might have thought I was a clown, giving a private performance.
“When she was steady enough to move, the third girl came up to me; she was still giggling. She said:
“‘If you get it, will you go?’
“I did not quite understand her at first, and she repeated it.
“‘This cushion. When you’ve got it, will you go—away—at once?’
“I was only too anxious to go. I told her so. But, I added I was not going without it. I had made up my mind to have that cushion now if I stopped in the shop all night for it.
“She rejoined the other two girls. I thought they were going to get me the cushion and have done with the business. Instead of that, the strangest thing possible happened. The two other girls got behind the first girl, all three still giggling, Heaven knows what about, and pushed her towards me. They pushed her close up to me, and then, before I knew what was happening, she put her hands on my shoulders, stood up on tiptoe, and kissed me. After which, burying her face in her apron, she ran off, followed by the second girl. The third girl opened the door for me, and so evidently expected me to go, that in my confusion I went, leaving my twenty marks behind me. I don’t say I minded the kiss, though I did not particularly want it, while I did want the cushion. I don’t like to go back to the shop. I cannot understand the thing at all.”
I said: “What did you ask for?”
He said: “A cushion”
I said: “That is what you wanted, I know. What I mean is, what was the actual German word you said.”
He replied: “A kuss.”
I said: “You have nothing to complain of. It is somewhat confusing. A ‘kuss’ sounds as if it ought to be a cushion, but it is not; it is a kiss, while a ‘kissen’ is a cushion. You muddled up the two words—people have done it before. I don’t know much about this sort of thing myself; but you asked for a twenty mark kiss, and from your description of the girl some people might consider the price reasonable. Anyhow, I should not tell Harris. If I remember rightly, he also has an aunt.”
George agreed with me it would be better not.
Published on 22nd October, 2008
Elegantly Dressed Wednesday: Advice from Dorothy Quigley
Stand aside Trinny & Susannah - if you want a bit of no-nonsense advice about What Not To Wear and how to dress elegantly (especially if you suffer from a “consumptive droop”), then you need a copy of Dorothy Quigley’s What Dress Makes of Us. Here’s the old girl in typically acerbic form:
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It is plain to be seen that the unattractive specimen of femininity, No. 65., with the long, wrinkled neck and sharply lined face is unbecomingly costumed in the V-shaped basque and corsage which apparently elongate her natural lankness. A charming and always fashionable yoke-effect that she can wear to advantage is shown by No. 66. This style of corsage is equally effective for a too thin or a too muscular neck. The filling is of tulle.
A square-cut corsage is most becoming to the woman whose narrow shoulders have a consumptive droop. The angular cut apparently heightens the shoulders and decreases their too steeple-like inclination. The round cut, if it frames a full throat, is also an effective style for sloping shoulders. The V-shaped cut is most becoming to the short-necked woman, whose aim should be to increase the length of her throat.
It is not only the too thin neck that needs to be clothed with discrimination. Throats and shoulders that are too robust are improved by being covered. The arms and shoulders, however, are often the chief beauty of a fleshy woman, and it is to her advantage to give them as effective a setting as possible.
As is obvious in No. 67, the stout woman apparently increases her breadth by wearing a flamboyant corsage, and she hides the most exquisite lines of her arm with her sleeves.
Published on 1st October, 2008
Elegantly Dressed Wednesday: Comte Robert de Montesquiou
A shame he no longer graces the cover (back to front) of the Penguin A Rebours, but you will find none more elegantly dressed than Comte Robert de Montesquiou-Fezensac.
The dandy’s dandy, these photos are a particular delight.
Published on 16th September, 2008
Elegantly Dressed Wednesday: A Scout
Inspired by Ian Hislop Scouting for Boys on the BBC, I thought I’d offer you my elegantly dressed grandfather, kitted out in his Scout uniform at some point in the late 1920s. What this photo does not convey, though, is the fact he took a rather small hat size; but that’s the beauty of a fine uniform.
Published on 9th July, 2008
Elegantly D(ep)ressed Wednesday: Julia Hamari
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Erbarme dich, mein Gott, |
Have mercy, my God, |
*sob*
Published on 18th June, 2008
Elegantly Dressed Wednesday: John Lee Hooker
Hooker’s first instrument was an inner tube nailed to a barn door.
Better still:
The septuagenarian Hooker, suave in a homburg, three-piece suit and sunglasses, became a familiar figure in advertisements, employed to endorse everything from jeans to heart pills. The commercial success of The Healer allowed him to record a series of albums in the 1990s, among them Mr Lucky and Boom, Boom, all of which sold well. In 1991, at 74, he became the oldest person to have a top five album in the British charts.
His new wealth allowed him to retire to San Francisco, where he would spend his afternoons crooning down the telephone to the young waitresses whose numbers he had picked up at breakfast.
An inspiration to us all.
Published on 11th June, 2008
Elegantly Dressed Wednesday: The Ampersand
I’ve always adored the ampersand, originally because it reminded me of the treble clef. Nowadays I like it because it is often the one flamboyant figure in an otherwise austere typeface.
The ampersand above is rather to narrow at its head for my taste, but I love the elegant simplicity of the black figure on the circular plate. At first glance it looks like a typewriter key.
The plate is by cul de sac and I found it one one of my favourite new blogs: The Ampersand.
Published on 28th May, 2008
Elegantly Dressed Wednesday: Gioachino Rossini
Anyone who dressed with the panache of Rossini, a man I admire for composing a rollocking Mass for two pianos and harmonium (which he sometimes described as the “last mortal sin of my old age”) deserves not only to be nominated for Elegantly Dressed Wednesday, but also to be accorded a sack load of respect.
“Gracious Lord,” he remarked in the preface of his manuscript, “forgive me the following comparison. Your twelve are also the apostles in Leonardo da Vinci’s famous fresco that is called The Last Supper. Who would have thought it possible! There are some among your disciples who sing wrong notes!! Be assured, my Lord, I swear that there be no Judas at my supper, and that my [disciples] will sing your praises in tune and with love.”
Chapeau!
Published on 21st May, 2008
Elegantly Dressed Wednesday: Sherry
I adore sherry, and not just for its smooth and nutty flavour. Every time I clap my eyes on a bottle of Fino, I’m transported back over twenty years to the pre-lunch sherry-drinking ritual my grandparents adhered to. I can see the midday sunshine pouring through the sashes, twinkling through the little glasses of wine to become dancing points of light.
I can also see the labels. Tio Pepe in the main, but later supplemented by the gaiety of La Gitana, the reliable sombreness of Harveys, the martial splendour of Hidalgo Napoleon. No other wine, whatever its merits, has a better standard of dress than sherry.
My favourite sherry is certainly the last brand. Sold to the French troops as “Napoleon” in the early 19th-century, it was also marketed to the British soldiers under the name “Wellington”. Even better for someone as impatient as myself, the amontillado seco is best drunk at room temperature, saving me the trouble of pacing agitatedly round the fridge.
That said, I’ve never tried the Hidalgo Napoleon Pedro Ximenez Viejo. Something tells me its likely to be a whole lot better than the dregs end of the Morrison’s Fino I’ve got at the moment.
Still, I raise it to elegant wines, wherever they may be found.
Published on 14th May, 2008
Elegantly Dressed Wednesday: The Pashley Guv’nor
When José Antonio Viera-Gallo, then a member of Allende’s government, made the wisecrack “Socialism can only arrive by bicycle”, you can bet your bottom boots that he’d never clapped eyes on the magnificent Pashley Guv’nor.
Bike nerds like Dornan will immediately rush to Google and return to my comments box to point out that Viera-Gallo couldn’t have eyeballed a bike that didn’t then exist. But I don’t care, because the Guv’nor was based on a Path Racer model made by the same company in the 1930s.
And just look at it! The elegant curve of the dropped handlebars. The irresistible white and black contrast that works so beautifully for tyres, and so badly for gents’ shoes. Hell, this machine has such a clean shape that it doesn’t bother with gears: a “single-speed rear wheel” - that’s what it’s got. None of your six squillion gears that allow fat blokes to get to the end of the street without collapsing.
Naturally, at £795 a pop, I’ve not set eyes on this elegantly-dressed marvel myself. But, as I was thinking of getting a bike, and as I hate to offend strangers by refusing gifts, I’d happily please any benefactor by test-riding The Guv’nor from its Warwickshire home to the depths of Hackney.
Sharing, of course, the mishaps and good fortune I encounter along the way…
Published on 7th May, 2008
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