Page:Every Woman's Encyclopedia Volume 1.djvu/98

Rh purple. The word "probable" is written with intention, as no test has yet been found which will infallibly reveal dyed sable to the untrained observer.

Fraud, however, is apt to go much further. The skins of mink, hare, squirrel, rabbit, marmot, and musquash are often dyed and substituted for those of sable. In this case the trick is more easy to discover, as there is a palpable difference in texture. If the hairs are blown apart, or if the hand is run up and down the skin, the fraud may be easily detected.

A woman who buys sable ought to insist that the skins sold her should be specifically described as "natural and not dyed," and this statement must be made in writing. A salesman who has no scruple as to a verbal guarantee will refuse to make out a bill in this form, and thereby run the risk of either civil or criminal proceedings.

Good furriers may be found in London whose word is their bond; and such as these would lose and not gain by unfair proceedings. Furs and the fur trade are now under the aegis of an Act of Parliament.

Sable needs the most careful treatment. When not in use it should be taken out from time to time, lightly wiped over with a cambric handkerchief, and then either shaken or beaten. A gentle beating is best. A light cane should be used, and, after beating, the fine hairs should be combed lengthways and across—a coarse, three-inch comb is best for this purpose, and is the sort generally used by furriers. If sable has been rained upon it should be hung up to dry in a current of air before it is put away again.

Fire is fatal to fur; and good skins ought never to be set near it to dry, as is often done by the untaught and careless.

The story goes that a precious sable coat which had got wet was hung on a fire-guard to dry with direful consequences. The fur changed colour after a short time, the hairs came out, and in the end the costly coat was ruined.

Good sable is portable property of much value, and its care in the summer needs some forethought. The best plan is to put one's treasures into the hands of a good furrier who knows his business, and whose cold storage rooms are fitted up with all the latest improvements.

In this case the furs should be duly insured against fire and burglary. But in these days of chilly summers many women prefer to keep their sables always in their own houses. In fact, a smart woman may often be seen wearing her fur on a cool day when driving in a motor in the afternoon, or at a cricket match at Lord's, or at one of the race meetings. But moths mean mischief; and if good sables are kept at home they must be stored in a zinc-lined box or in a cedar chest for the sake of safety. And if the skins are of great value, or if we have what the furriers call a "mothy" summer, each article should be stitched into a linen bag or wrapper, and only taken out as occasion demands.

Sable is not always adaptable. As regards colour, it looks its best with some shades of brown, and with white, black, cream, or grey. But with red, green, yellow, bright blue, or bright violet it becomes difficult. And it does not mix well with other furs—sealskin is the only exception. Sable suits most good complexions, but it favours a woman with dark hair and brunette colouring.

when cross-questioned by a woman as to the ingredients which he used in mixing his colours, a famous artist comprehensively replied that he mixed them with brains. Similarly, success in clothes is achieved only if the colours are not merely mixed but applied with brains.

In the choice of colours, as in all matters connected with clothes, individuality in women should be strongly encouraged. That one colour should be more fashionable than another is in itself an absurdity. It might almost as well be asserted that a special kind of complexion or a particular shape of face should be worn to the exclusion of all others.

The only colour that has any right to be fashionable is the colour that happens to suit the wearer, and nothing is more foolish than for every woman, dark or fair, pale or ruddy, fat or thin, to imagine that, because there happens to be an epidemic of mustard-yellow or peacock-green, she must, therefore, clothe herself in aggressive tints that fight all day long with her hair and her complexion. That a colour is essentially and undoubtedly becoming should be its first passport to our good graces.

The woman who gaily crowns a mass of auburn locks with a biscuit-coloured hat garlanded with bright pink roses—and, strange though it may seem, red-haired people have often a passion for pink and crimson—does not realise that her hair, beautiful as it is in itself, is a subject which must be studied very carefully in its relation to her hats.

Let her wear a large picture shape in soft black crinoline, with a brim which will cast mysterious shadows over hair and