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428 hitherto almost compulsory white neckcloth. The bold innovator who appeared at Almacks’ in trousers, and justified his renunciation of breeches on the ground that his legs were crooked, submitting that fact to the Ladies’ Committee for verification, kicked down the remains of the old dress fabric.

The external symbols formerly considered appropriate to the advancing stages of life having been abolished, it is difficult now to judge correctly of a person’s age. In our own recollection the man of seventy looked his years; at this day he might pass as sixty, or even fifty-five, for anything we can determine. The gradations of time on the stage were still more marked. A father of the last-mentioned age used to be represented as an old gentleman,—wore a wig, or long white hair,—

Increased ease in manners has kept even steps with that of dress, and has doubtless been affected by it. When nightcaps and trouser-straps were thrown to the winds, men found, with additional bodily freedom, a corresponding mental emancipation. Unquestionably, there is a danger of the reaction being too great: an imminent danger of plunging from rigidity into a rude negligence. Our countrymen are no longer accused by continentals of the stiffness of their attire, but of its nondescript vulgarity. The French are very fond of caricaturing their British neighbours in the article of dress, but the mass of Frenchmen are bad dressers themselves. An elaborable quiz, seen in the shop windows in Paris and elsewhere, called “L’Anglais à Mabille,” presents an extraordinary combination of colour and form, and it would not be recognised as an Englishman except by the title at foot. Much of the bad taste now seen in men’s dress here—a sloppy description of clothes—is borrowed from our French contemporaries.

In ladies’ dress, the greatest coup in modern times has been the restoration of the close-fitting sleeve. It was a return to the true principles of taste. With many variations, and an occasional attempt of dress-makers to discard it, the natural sleeve keeps its place, and has done so now for years. The stomacher was a fanciful reproduction of the Elizabethan age. So far it was looked upon with favour for a considerable period; but it was a mistake. It was a protracting of the waist far below its real position; and, at one time, fanaticism brought the point down almost to the knees. The introduction of the hat instead of the bonnet was a great modern gain. Even the much-abused “pork-pie” brought out our country-women’s beauty in no small degree.

The cardinal canon in costume is, that dress should conform itself to the human figure. It is not intended by this that persons of both sexes are to go about in elastic tight coverings, or that no liberty or variation within limits is permissible. But wherever dress greatly deviates from the form,—goes upon lines not in harmony with those of the person,—there is error, there is bad taste. Dress is to run its epicycle over the curves and contour of the body. The hooped petticoat or steel skirt, foolishly called crinoline, conceals the form, and, when excessive, reduces a lady to a pyramid. It is not likely, however, that this controverted instrument will be talked down, because it has its aspect of health and convenience.

The application and power of colour are known to all intelligent dressers. Redundancy of figure is to be killed or kept down by black and dark tints, whilst, to deficiency in fulnesss, white and light-hued materials give the greatest breadth and outline. Many years ago, waist-bands were much worn by ladies. They were frequently made of two colours, longitudinally divided: and those for whom they were intended were quite aware that, by wearing the dark portion of the ribbon downwards, it increased the conic diminution of the waist, whilst the light portion above gave force to the spring of the bust.

In the selection of colours “that go together,”