There is as much a "fashion" in complexion as there is in bonnets
or boots. Sometimes nature is the mode, sometimes art. Just now the
latter is in the ascendant, though, as a rule, only in that inferior
phase which has not reached the "concealment of art"--the point
where extremes meet and the perfection of artifice presents all the
appearance of artlessness. No one of an observant turn of mind, who
is accustomed to the sight of English maids and matrons, can deny
that making-up, as at present practiced, partakes of the amateurish
element. Impossible reds and whites grow still more impossibly red
and white from week to week under the unskilled hands of the wearer of
"false colors," who does not like to ask for advice on so delicate a
subject, for, even were she willing to confess to the practice, the
imputation of experience conveyed in the asking for counsel might be
badly received, and would scarcely be in good taste.
The prevalent and increasing short-sightedness of our times is,
perhaps, partly the cause of the excessive use of rouge and powder.
The wielder of the powder puff sees herself afar off, as it were. She
knows that she cannot judge of the effect of her complexion with her
face almost touching its reflection in the glass, and, standing about
a yard off, she naturally accentuates her roses and lilies in a way
that looks very pleasing to her, but is rather startling to any one
with longer sight. Nor can she tone down her rouge with the powdered
hair that softened the artificial coloring of her grandmother when she
had her day. Powder is only occasionally worn with evening dress,
and it is by daylight that those dreadful bluish reds and whites look
their worst.
On the other hand, there are some women so clever at making up their
faces that one feels almost inclined to condone the practice in
admiration of the result. These are the small minority, and are likely
to remain so, for their secret is of a kind unlikely to be shared. The
closest inspection of these cleverly managed complexions reveals no
trace of art.
Notwithstanding the reticence of these skilled artists, an occasional
burst of confidence has revealed a few of their means of accomplishing
the great end of looking pretty. "Do you often do that?" said one of
those clever ones, a matron of 37, who looked like a girl of 19, to a
friend who was vigorously rubbing her cheeks with a course towel after
a plentiful application of cold water.
"Yes, every time I come in from a walk, ride or drive. Why?"
"Well, no wonder you look older than you are. You are simply wearing
your face out!"
"But I must wash?"
"Certainly, but not like that. Take a leaf out of my book; never
wash you face just before going out into the fresh air, or just after
coming in. Nothing is more injurious to the skin. Come to the glass.
Do you notice a drawn look about your eyes and a general streakiness
in the cheeks? That is the result of your violent assault upon your
complexion just now. You look at this moment ten years older than you
did twenty minutes ago in the park."
"Well, I really do. I look old enough to be your mother; but then, you
are wonderful. You always look so young and fresh!"
"Because I never treat my poor face so badly as you do yours. I use
rain-water, and if I cannot get that, I have the water filtered. When
I dress for dinner I always wash my face with milk, adding just enough
hot water to make it pleasant to use. A very soft sponge and very fine
towel take the place of your terrible huckaback arrangement."
Two or three years ago a lady of Oriental parentage on her father's
side spent a season in London society. Her complexion was brown,
relieved by yellow, her features large and irregular, but redeemed
by a pair of lovely and expressive eyes. So perfect was her taste in
dress that she always attracted admiration wherever she went. Dressed
in rich dark brown or dullest crimsons or russets, so that no one
ever noticed much what she wore, she so managed that suggestions
and hints--no more--of brilliant amber or [Transcriber's Note: The
original text reads 'promegranate'] pomegranate scarlet should appear
just where they imparted brilliancy to her deep coloring, and abstract
the yellow from her skin. A knot of old gold satin under the rim of
her bonnet, another at her throat, and others in among the lace at her
wrists, brightened up the otherwise subdued tinting of her costume, so
that it always looked as though it had been designed expressly for her
by some great colorist. Here rouge was unnecessary. The surroundings
were arranged to suit the complexion, instead of the complexion to
suit the surroundings. There can be no doubt as to which is the method
which best becomes the gentlewoman.
In addition to the disagreeable sensation of making-up, it must
be remembered that the use of some of the white powders eventually
destroys the texture of the skin, rendering it rough and coarse.
Rimmel, the celebrated perfumer, in his "Book of Perfumes," says that
rouge, being composed of cochineal and saffron, is harmless, but that
white cosmetics consist occasionally of deleterious substances which
may injure the health. He advises actors and actresses to choose
cosmetics, especially the white, with the greatest care, and women of
the world, who wish to preserve the freshness of their complexion, to
observe the following recipe: Open air, rest, exercise and cold water.
In another part of this pleasant book the author says that _schonada_,
a cosmetic used among the Arabs, is quite innocuous and at the same
time effectual. "This cream, which consists of sublimated benzoin,
acts upon the skin as a slight stimulant, and imparts perfectly
natural colors during some hours without occasioning the
inconveniences with which European cosmetics may justly be
reproached." It is a well-known fact that bismuth, a white powder
containing sugar of lead, injures the nerve-centers when constantly
employed, and occasionally causes paralysis itself.
In getting up the eyes, nothing is injurious that is not dropped into
them. Tho use of _kohl_ or _kohol_ is quite harmless, and, it must be
confessed, very effective when applied--as the famous recipe for salad
dressing enjoins with regard to the vinegar--by the hand of a miser.
Modern Egyptian ladies make their _kohol_ of the smoke produced by
burning almonds. A small bag holding the bottle of _kohol_, and a pin,
with a rounded point with which to apply it, form part of the toilet
paraphernalia of all the beauties of Cairo, who make the immense
mistake of getting up their eyes in an exactly similar manner, thus
trying to reduce the endless variety of nature to one common pattern,
a mistake that may be accounted for by the fact that the Arabs believe
_kohol_ to be a sovereign specific against ophthalmia. Their English
sisters often make the same mistake without the same excuse. A hairpin
steeped in lampblack is the usual method of darkening the eyes in
England, retribution following sooner or later in the shape of a total
loss of the eyelashes. Eau de Cologne is occasionally dropped into
the eyes, with the effect of making them brighter. The operation is
painful, and it is said that half a dozen drops of whisky and the
same quantity of Eau de Cologne, eaten on a lump of sugar, is quite as
effective.