DRESS.
Between the sloven and the coxcomb there is generally a competition
which shall be the more contemptible: the one in the total neglect of
every thing which might make his appearance in public supportable, and
the other in the cultivation of every superfluous ornament. The former
offends by his negligence and dirt, and the latter by his finery and
perfumery. Each entertains a supreme contempt for the other, and while
both are right in their opinion, both are wrong in their practice. It is
not in either extreme that the man of real elegance and refinement will
be shown, but in the happy medium which allows taste and judgment to
preside over the wardrobe and toilet-table, while it prevents too great
an attention to either, and never allows personal appearance to become
the leading object of life.
The French have a proverb, "It is not the cowl which makes the monk,"
and it might be said with equal truth, "It is not the dress which makes
the gentleman," yet, as the monk is known abroad by his cowl, so the
true gentleman will let the refinement of his mind and education be seen
in his dress.
The first rule for the guidance of a man, in matters of dress, should
be, "Let the dress suit the occasion." It is as absurd for a man to go
into the street in the morning with his dress-coat, white kid gloves,
and dancing-boots, as it would be for a lady to promenade the
fashionable streets, in full evening dress, or for the same man to
present himself in the ball-room with heavy walking-boots, a great coat,
and riding-cap.
It is true that there is little opportunity for a gentleman to exercise
his taste for coloring, in the black and white dress which fashion so
imperatively declares to be the proper dress for a _dress_ occasion. He
may indulge in light clothes in the street during the warm months of the
year, but for the ball or evening party, black and white are the only
colors (or no colors) admissible, and in the midst of the gay dresses of
the ladies, the unfortunate man in his sombre dress appears like a demon
who has found his way into Paradise among the angels. _N'importe!_ Men
should be useful to the women, and how can they be better employed than
acting as a foil for their loveliness of face and dress!
Notwithstanding the dress, however, a man may make himself agreeable,
even in the earthly Paradise, a ball-room. He can rise above the
mourning of his coat, to the joyousness of the occasion, and make
himself valued for himself, not his dress. He can make himself admired
for his wit, not his toilette; his elegance and refinement, not the
price of his clothes.
There is another good rule for the dressing-room: While you are engaged
in dressing give your whole attention to it. See that every detail is
perfect, and that each article is neatly arranged. From the curl of
your hair to the tip of your boot, let all be perfect in its make and
arrangement, but, as soon as you have left your mirror, forget your
dress. Nothing betokens the coxcomb more decidedly than to see a man
always fussing about his dress, pulling down his wristbands, playing
with his moustache, pulling up his shirt collar, or arranging the bow of
his cravat. Once dressed, do not attempt to alter any part of your
costume until you are again in the dressing-room.
In a gentleman's dress any attempt to be conspicuous is in excessively
bad taste. If you are wealthy, let the luxury of your dress consist in
the fine quality of each article, and in the spotless purity of gloves
and linen, but never wear much jewelry or any article conspicuous on
account of its money value. Simplicity should always preside over the
gentleman's wardrobe.
Follow fashion as far as is necessary to avoid eccentricity or oddity in
your costume, but avoid the extreme of the prevailing _mode_. If coats
are worn long, yours need not sweep the ground, if they are loose, yours
may still have some fitness for your figure; if pantaloons are cut large
over the boot, yours need not cover the whole foot, if they are tight,
you may still take room to walk. Above all, let your figure and style of
face have some weight in deciding how far you are to follow fashion. For
a very tall man to wear a high, narrow-brimmed hat, long-tailed coat,
and tight pantaloons, with a pointed beard and hair brushed up from the
forehead, is not more absurd than for a short, fat man, to promenade the
street in a low, broad-brimmed hat, loose coat and pants, and the
latter made of large plaid material, and yet burlesques quite as broad
may be met with every day.
An English writer, ridiculing the whims of Fashion, says:--
"To be in the fashion, an Englishman must wear six pairs of gloves in a
day:
"In the morning, he must drive his hunting wagon in reindeer gloves.
"In hunting, he must wear gloves of chamois skin.
"To enter London in his tilbury, beaver skin gloves.
"Later in the day, to promenade in Hyde Park, colored kid gloves, dark.
"When he dines out, colored kid gloves, light.
"For the ball-room, white kid gloves."
Thus his yearly bill for gloves alone will amount to a most extravagant
sum.
In order to merit the appellation of a well-dressed man, you must pay
attention, not only to the more prominent articles of your wardrobe,
coat, pants, and vest, but to the more minute details. A shirtfront
which fits badly, a pair of wristbands too wide or too narrow, a badly
brushed hat, a shabby pair of gloves, or an ill-fitting boot, will spoil
the most elaborate costume. Purity of skin, teeth, nails; well brushed
hair; linen fresh and snowy white, will make clothes of the coarsest
material, if well made, look more elegant, than the finest material of
cloth, if these details are neglected.
Frequent bathing, careful attention to the teeth, nails, ears, and hair,
are indispensable to a finished toilette.
Use but very little perfume, much of it is in bad taste.
Let your hair, beard, and moustache, be always perfectly smooth, well
arranged, and scrupulously clean.
It is better to clean the teeth with a piece of sponge, or very soft
brush, than with a stiff brush, and there is no dentifrice so good as
White Castile Soap.
Wear always gloves and boots, which fit well and are fresh and whole.
Soiled or torn gloves and boots ruin a costume otherwise faultless.
Extreme propriety should be observed in dress. Be careful to dress
according to your means. Too great saving is meanness, too great expense
is extravagance.
A young man may follow the fashion farther than a middle-aged or elderly
man, but let him avoid going to the extreme of the mode, if he would not
be taken for an empty headed fop.
It is best to employ a good tailor, as a suit of coarse broadcloth which
fits you perfectly, and is stylish in cut, will make a more elegant
dress than the finest material badly made.
Avoid eccentricity; it marks, not the man of genius, but the fool.
A well brushed hat, and glossy boots must be always worn in the street.
White gloves are the only ones to be worn with full dress.
A snuff box, watch, studs, sleeve-buttons, watch-chain, and one ring are
all the jewelry a well-dressed man can wear.
An English author, in a recent work, gives the following rules for a
gentleman's dress:
"The best bath for general purposes, and one which can do little harm,
and almost always some good, is a sponge bath. It should consist of a
large, flat metal basin, some four feet in diameter, filled with cold
water. Such a vessel may be bought for about fifteen shillings. A large,
coarse sponge--the coarser the better--will cost another five or seven
shillings, and a few Turkish towels complete the 'properties.' The water
should be plentiful and fresh, that is, brought up a little while before
the bath is to be used; not placed over night in the bed-room. Let us
wash and be merry, for we know not how soon the supply of that precious
article which here costs nothing may be cut off. In many continental
towns they buy their water, and on a protracted sea voyage the ration is
often reduced to half a pint a day _for all purposes_, so that a pint
per diem is considered luxurious. Sea-water, we may here observe, does
not cleanse, and a sensible man who bathes in the sea will take a bath
of pure water immediately after it. This practice is shamefully
neglected, and I am inclined to think that in many cases a sea-bath will
do more harm than good without it, but, if followed by a fresh bath,
cannot but be advantageous.
"Taking the sponge bath as the best for ordinary purposes, we must point
out some rules in its use. The sponge being nearly a foot in length, and
six inches broad, must be allowed to fill completely with water, and the
part of the body which should be first attacked is the stomach. It is
there that the most heat has collected during the night, and the
application of cold water quickens the circulation at once, and sends
the blood which has been employed in digestion round the whole body. The
head should next be soused, unless the person be of full habit, when the
head should be attacked before the feet touch the cold water at all.
Some persons use a small hand shower bath, which is less powerful than
the common shower bath, and does almost as much good. The use of soap in
the morning bath is an open question. I confess a preference for a rough
towel, or a hair glove. Brummell patronized the latter, and applied it
for nearly a quarter of an hour every morning.
"The ancients followed up the bath by anointing the body, and athletic
exercises. The former is a mistake; the latter, an excellent practice,
shamefully neglected in the present day. It would conduce much to health
and strength if every morning toilet comprised the vigorous use of the
dumb-bells, or, still better, the exercise of the arms without them. The
best plan of all is, to choose some object in your bed-room on which to
vent your hatred, and box at it violently for some ten minutes, till the
perspiration covers you. The sponge must then be again applied to the
whole body. It is very desirable to remain without clothing as long as
possible, and I should therefore recommend that every part of the toilet
which can conveniently be performed without dressing, should be so.
"The next duty, then, must be to clean the TEETH. Dentists are modern
inquisitors, but their torture-rooms are meant only for the foolish.
Everybody is born with good teeth, and everybody might keep them good by
a proper diet, and the avoidance of sweets and smoking. Of the two the
former are, perhaps, the more dangerous. Nothing ruins the teeth so soon
as sugar in one's tea, and highly sweetened tarts and puddings, and as
it is _le premier pas qui coûte_, these should be particularly avoided
in childhood. When the teeth attain their full growth and strength it
takes much more to destroy either their enamel or their substance.
"It is upon the teeth that the effects of excess are first seen, and it
is upon the teeth that the odor of the breath depends. If I may not say
that it is a Christian duty to keep your teeth clean, I may, at least,
remind you that you cannot be thoroughly agreeable without doing so. Let
words be what they may, if they come with an impure odor, they cannot
please. The butterfly loves the scent of the rose more than its honey.
"The teeth should be well rubbed inside as well as outside, and the back
teeth even more than the front. The mouth should then be rinsed, if not
seven times, according to the Hindu legislator, at least several times,
with fresh, cold water. This same process should be repeated several
times a day, since eating, smoking, and so forth, naturally render the
teeth and mouth dirty more or less, and nothing can be so offensive,
particularly to ladies, whose sense of smell seems to be keener than
that of the other sex, and who can detect at your first approach whether
you have been drinking or smoking. But, if only for your own comfort,
you should brush your teeth both morning and evening, which is quite
requisite for the preservation of their soundness and color; while, if
you are to mingle with others, they should be brushed, or, at least,
the mouth well rinsed after every meal, still more after smoking, or
drinking wine, beer, or spirits. No amount of general attractiveness can
compensate for an offensive odor in the breath; and none of the senses
is so fine a gentleman, none so unforgiving, if offended, as that of
smell.
"Strict attention must be paid to the condition of the nails, and that
both as regards cleaning and cutting. The former is best done with a
liberal supply of soap on a small nail-brush, which should be used
before every meal, if you would not injure your neighbor's appetite.
While the hand is still moist, the point of a small pen-knife or pair of
stumpy nail-scissors should be passed under the nails so as to remove
every vestige of dirt; the skin should be pushed down with a towel, that
the white half-moon may be seen, and the finer skin removed with the
knife or scissors. Occasionally the edges of the nails should be filed,
and the hard skin which forms round the corners of them cut away. The
important point in cutting the nails is to preserve the beauty of their
shape. That beauty, even in details, is worth preserving, I have already
remarked, and we may study it as much in paring our nails, as in the
grace of our attitudes, or any other point. The shape, then, of the nail
should approach, as nearly as possible, to the oblong. The length of the
nail is an open question. Let it be often cut, but always long, in my
opinion. Above all, let it be well cut, and _never_ bitten.
"Perhaps you tell me these are childish details. Details, yes, but not
childish. The attention to details is the true sign of a great mind, and
he who can in necessity consider the smallest, is the same man who can
compass the largest subjects. Is not life made up of details? Must not
the artist who has conceived a picture, descend from the dream of his
mind to mix colors on a palette? Must not the great commander who is
bowling down nations and setting up monarchies care for the health and
comfort, the bread and beef of each individual soldier? I have often
seen a great poet, whom I knew personally, counting on his fingers the
feet of his verses, and fretting with anything but poetic language,
because he could not get his sense into as many syllables. What if his
nails were dirty? Let genius talk of abstract beauty, and philosophers
dogmatize on order. If they do not keep their nails clean, I shall call
them both charlatans. The man who really loves beauty will cultivate it
in everything around him. The man who upholds order is not conscientious
if he cannot observe it in his nails. The great mind can afford to
descend to details; it is only the weak mind that fears to be narrowed
by them. When Napoleon was at Munich he declined the grand four-poster
of the Witelsbach family, and slept, as usual, in his little camp-bed.
The power to be little is a proof of greatness.
"For the hands, ears, and neck we want something more than the bath,
and, as these parts are exposed and really lodge fugitive pollutions, we
cannot use too much soap, or give too much trouble to their complete
purification. Nothing is lovelier than a woman's small, white,
shell-like ear; few things reconcile us better to earth than the cold
hand and warm heart of a friend; but, to complete the charm, the hand
should be both clean and soft. Warm water, a liberal use of the
nail-brush, and no stint of soap, produce this amenity far more
effectually than honey, cold cream, and almond paste. Of wearing gloves
I shall speak elsewhere, but for weak people who are troubled with
chilblains, they are indispensable all the year round. I will add a good
prescription for the cure of chilblains, which are both a disfigurement,
and one of the _petites misères_ of human life.
"'Roll the fingers in linen bandages, sew them up well, and dip them
twice or thrice a day in a mixture, consisting of half a fluid ounce of
tincture of capsicum, and a fluid ounce of tincture of opium.'
"The person who invented razors libelled Nature, and added a fresh
misery to the days of man.
"Whatever _Punch_ may say, the moustache and beard movement is one in
the right direction, proving that men are beginning to appreciate beauty
and to acknowledge that Nature is the best valet. But it is very amusing
to hear men excusing their vanity on the plea of health, and find them
indulging in the hideous 'Newgate frill' as a kind of compromise between
the beard and the razor. There was a time when it was thought a
presumption and vanity to wear one's own hair instead of the frightful
elaborations of the wig-makers, and the false curls which Sir Godfrey
Kneller did his best to make graceful on canvas. Who knows that at some
future age some _Punch_ of the twenty-first century may not ridicule the
wearing of one's own teeth instead of the dentist's? At any rate Nature
knows best, and no man need be ashamed of showing his manhood in the
hair of his face. Of razors and shaving, therefore, I shall only speak
from necessity, because, until everybody is sensible on this point, they
will still be used.
"Napoleon shaved himself. 'A born king,' said he, 'has another to shave
him. A made king can use his own razor.' But the war he made on his chin
was very different to that he made on foreign potentates. He took a very
long time to effect it, talking between whiles to his hangers-on. The
great man, however, was right, and every sensible man will shave
himself, if only as an exercise of character, for a man should learn to
live, in every detail without assistance. Moreover, in most cases, we
shave ourselves better than barbers can do. If we shave at all, we
should do it thoroughly, and every morning. Nothing, except a frown and
a hay-fever, makes the face look so unlovely as a chin covered with
short stubble. The chief requirements are hot water, a large, soft brush
of badger hair, a good razor, soft soap that will not dry rapidly, and a
steady hand. Cheap razors are a fallacy. They soon lose their edge, and
no amount of stropping will restore it. A good razor needs no strop. If
you can afford it, you should have a case of seven razors, one for each
day of the week, so that no one shall be too much used. There are now
much used packets of papers of a certain kind on which to wipe the
razor, and which keep its edge keen, and are a substitute for the strop.
"Beards, moustaches, and whiskers, have always been most important
additions to the face. In the present day literary men are much given to
their growth, and in that respect show at once their taste and their
vanity. Let no man be ashamed of his beard, if it be well kept and not
fantastically cut. The moustache should be kept within limits. The
Hungarians wear it so long that they can tie the ends round their heads.
The style of the beard should be adopted to suit the face. A broad face
should wear a large, full one; a long face is improved by a
sharp-pointed one. Taylor, the water poet, wrote verses on the various
styles, and they are almost numberless. The chief point is to keep the
beard well-combed and in neat trim.
"As to whiskers, it is not every man who can achieve a pair of full
length. There is certainly a great vanity about them, but it may be
generally said that foppishness should be avoided in this as in most
other points. Above all, the whiskers should never be curled, nor pulled
out to an absurd length. Still worse is it to cut them close with the
scissors. The moustache should be neat and not too large, and such
fopperies as cutting the points thereof, or twisting them up to the
fineness of needles--though patronized by the Emperor of the French--are
decidedly a proof of vanity. If a man wear the hair on his face which
nature has given him, in the manner that nature distributes it, keeps it
clean, and prevents its overgrowth, he cannot do wrong. All
extravagances are vulgar, because they are evidence of a pretence to
being better than you are; but a single extravagance unsupported is
perhaps worse than a number together, which have at least the merit of
consistency. If you copy puppies in the half-yard of whisker, you should
have their dress and their manner too, if you would not appear doubly
absurd.
"The same remarks apply to the arrangement of the hair in men, which
should be as simple and as natural as possible, but at the same time a
little may be granted to beauty and the requirements of the face. For my
part I can see nothing unmanly in wearing long hair, though undoubtedly
it is inconvenient and a temptation to vanity, while its arrangement
would demand an amount of time and attention which is unworthy of a man.
But every nation and every age has had a different custom in this
respect, and to this day even in Europe the hair is sometimes worn long.
The German student is particularly partial to hyacinthine locks curling
over a black velvet coat; and the peasant of Brittany looks very
handsome, if not always clean, with his love-locks hanging straight down
under a broad cavalier hat. Religion has generally taken up the matter
severely. The old fathers preached and railed against wigs, the
Calvinists raised an insurrection in Bordeaux on the same account, and
English Roundheads consigned to an unmentionable place every man who
allowed his hair to grow according to nature. The Romans condemned
tresses as unmanly, and in France in the middle ages the privilege to
wear them was confined to royalty. Our modern custom was a revival of
the French revolution, so that in this respect we are now republican as
well as puritanical.
"If we conform to fashion we should at least make the best of it, and
since the main advantage of short hair is its neatness, we should take
care to keep ours neat. This should be done first by frequent visits to
the barber, for if the hair is to be short at all it should be very
short, and nothing looks more untidy than long, stiff, uncurled masses
sticking out over the ears. If it curls naturally so much the better,
but if not it will be easier to keep in order. The next point is to wash
the head every morning, which, when once habitual, is a great
preservative against cold. A pair of large brushes, hard or soft, as
your case requires, should be used, not to hammer the head with, but to
pass up under the hair so as to reach the roots. As to pomatum,
Macassar, and other inventions of the hair-dresser, I have only to say
that, if used at all, it should be in moderation, and never sufficiently
to make their scent perceptible in company. Of course the arrangement
will be a matter of individual taste, but as the middle of the hair is
the natural place for a parting, it is rather a silly prejudice to think
a man vain who parts his hair in the centre. He is less blamable than
one who is too lazy to part it at all, and has always the appearance of
having just got up.
"Of wigs and false hair, the subject of satires and sermons since the
days of the Roman Emperors, I shall say nothing here except that they
are a practical falsehood which may sometimes be necessary, but is
rarely successful. For my part I prefer the snows of life's winter to
the best made peruke, and even a bald head to an inferior wig.
"When gentlemen wore armor, and disdained the use of their legs, an
esquire was a necessity; and we can understand that, in the days of the
Beaux, the word "gentleman" meant a man and his valet. I am glad to say
that in the present day it only takes one man to make a gentleman, or,
at most, a man and a ninth--that is, including the tailor. It is an
excellent thing for the character to be neat and orderly, and, if a man
neglects to be so in his room, he is open to the same temptation sooner
or later in his person. A dressing-case is, therefore, a desideratum. A
closet to hang up cloth clothes, which should never be folded, and a
small dressing-room next to the bed-room, are not so easily attainable.
But the man who throws his clothes about the room, a boot in one corner,
a cravat in another, and his brushes anywhere, is not a man of good
habits. The spirit of order should extend to everything about him.
"This brings me to speak of certain necessities of dress; the first of
which I shall take is appropriateness. The age of the individual is an
important consideration in this respect; and a man of sixty is as absurd
in the style of nineteen as a young man in the high cravat of Brummell's
day. I know a gallant colonel who is master of the ceremonies in a gay
watering-place, and who, afraid of the prim old-fashioned _tournure_ of
his _confrères_ in similar localities, is to be seen, though his hair is
gray and his age not under five-and-sixty, in a light cut-away, the
'peg-top' continuations, and a turned-down collar. It may be what
younger blades will wear when they reach his age, but in the present day
the effect is ridiculous. We may, therefore, give as a general rule,
that after the turning-point of life a man should eschew the changes of
fashion in his own attire, while he avoids complaining of it in the
young. In the latter, on the other hand, the observance of these changes
must depend partly on his taste and partly on his position. If wise, he
will adopt with alacrity any new fashions which improve the grace, the
ease, the healthfulness, and the convenience of his garments. He will
be glad of greater freedom in the cut of his cloth clothes, of boots
with elastic sides instead of troublesome buttons or laces, of the
privilege to turn down his collar, and so forth, while he will avoid as
extravagant, elaborate shirt-fronts, gold bindings on the waistcoat, and
expensive buttons. On the other hand, whatever his age, he will have
some respect to his profession and position in society. He will remember
how much the appearance of the man aids a judgment of his character, and
this test, which has often been cried down, is in reality no bad one;
for a man who does not dress appropriately evinces a want of what is
most necessary to professional men--tact and discretion.
"Position in society demands appropriateness. Well knowing the worldly
value of a good coat, I would yet never recommend a man of limited means
to aspire to a fashionable appearance. In the first place, he becomes
thereby a walking falsehood; in the second, he cannot, without running
into debt, which is another term for dishonesty, maintain the style he
has adopted. As he cannot afford to change his suits as rapidly as
fashion alters, he must avoid following it in varying details. He will
rush into wide sleeves one month, in the hope of being fashionable, and
before his coat is worn out, the next month will bring in a narrow
sleeve. We cannot, unfortunately, like Samuel Pepys, take a long cloak
now-a-days to the tailor's, to be cut into a short one, 'long cloaks
being now quite out,' as he tells us. Even when there is no poverty in
the case, our position must not be forgotten. The tradesman will win
neither customers nor friends by adorning himself in the mode of the
club-lounger, and the clerk, or commercial traveler, who dresses
fashionably, lays himself open to inquiries as to his antecedents, which
he may not care to have investigated. In general, it may be said that
there is vulgarity in dressing like those of a class above us, since it
must be taken as a proof of pretension.
"As it is bad taste to flaunt the airs of the town among the
provincials, who know nothing of them, it is worse taste to display the
dress of a city in the quiet haunts of the rustics. The law, that all
attempts at distinction by means of dress is vulgar and pretentious,
would be sufficient argument against wearing city fashions in the
country.
"While in most cases a rougher and easier mode of dress is both
admissible and desirable in the country, there are many occasions of
country visiting where a town man finds it difficult to decide. It is
almost peculiar to the country to unite the amusements of the daytime
with those of the evening; of the open air with those of the
drawing-room. Thus, in the summer, when the days are long, you will be
asked to a pic-nic or an archery party, which will wind up with dancing
in-doors, and may even assume the character of a ball. If you are aware
of this beforehand, it will always be safe to send your evening dress to
your host's house, and you will learn from the servants whether others
have done the same, and whether, therefore, you will not be singular in
asking leave to change your costume. But if you are ignorant how the day
is to end, you must be guided partly by the hour of invitation, and
partly by the extent of your intimacy with the family. I have actually
known gentlemen arrive at a large pic-nic at mid-day in complete evening
dress, and pitied them with all my heart, compelled as they were to
suffer, in tight black clothes, under a hot sun for eight hours, and
dance after all in the same dress. On the other hand, if you are asked
to come an hour or two before sunset, after six in summer, in the autumn
after five, you cannot err by appearing in evening dress. It is always
taken as a compliment to do so, and if your acquaintance with your
hostess is slight, it would be almost a familiarity to do otherwise. In
any case you desire to avoid singularity, so that if you can discover
what others who are invited intend to wear, you can always decide on
your own attire. In Europe there is a convenient rule for these matters;
never appear after four in the afternoon in morning dress; but then gray
trousers are there allowed instead of black, and white waistcoats are
still worn in the evening. At any rate, it is possible to effect a
compromise between the two styles of costume, and if you are likely to
be called upon to dance in the evening, it will be well to wear thin
boots, a black frock-coat, and a small black neck-tie, and to put a pair
of clean white gloves in your pocket. You will thus be at least less
conspicuous in the dancing-room than in a light tweed suit.
"Not so the distinction to be made according to size. As a rule, tall
men require long clothes--some few perhaps even in the nurse's sense of
those words--and short men short clothes. On the other hand, Falstaff
should beware of Jenny Wren coats and affect ample wrappers, while Peter
Schlemihl, and the whole race of thin men, must eschew looseness as
much in their garments as their morals.
"Lastly we come to what is appropriate to different occasions, and as
this is an important subject, I shall treat of it separately. For the
present it is sufficient to point out that, while every man should avoid
not only extravagance, but even brilliance of dress on ordinary
occasions, there are some on which he may and ought to pay more
attention to his toilet, and attempt to look gay. Of course, the
evenings are not here meant. For evening dress there is a fixed rule,
from which we can depart only to be foppish or vulgar; but in morning
dress there is greater liberty, and when we undertake to mingle with
those who are assembled avowedly for gayety, we should not make
ourselves remarkable by the dinginess of our dress. Such occasions are
open air entertainments, _fêtes_, flower-shows, archery-meetings,
_matinées_, and _id genus omne_, where much of the pleasure to be
derived depends on the general effect on the enjoyers, and where, if we
cannot pump up a look of mirth, we should, at least, if we go at all,
wear the semblance of it in our dress. I have a worthy little friend,
who, I believe, is as well disposed to his kind as Lord Shaftesbury
himself, but who, for some reason, perhaps a twinge of philosophy about
him, frequents the gay meetings to which he is asked in an old coat and
a wide-awake. Some people take him for a wit, but he soon shows that he
does not aspire to that character; others for a philosopher, but he is
too good-mannered for that; others, poor man! pronounce him a cynic, and
all are agreed that whatever he may be, he looks out of place, and
spoils the general effect. I believe, in my heart, that he is the
mildest of men, but will not take the trouble to dress more than once a
day. At any rate, he has a character for eccentricity, which, I am sure,
is precisely what he would wish to avoid. That character is a most
delightful one for a bachelor, and it is generally Coelebs who holds it,
for it has been proved by statistics that there are four single to one
married man among the inhabitants of our madhouses; but eccentricity
yields a reputation which requires something to uphold it, and even in
Diogenes of the Tub it was extremely bad taste to force himself into
Plato's evening party without sandals, and nothing but a dirty tunic on
him.
"Another requisite in dress is its simplicity, with which I may couple
harmony of color. This simplicity is the only distinction which a man of
taste should aspire to in the matter of dress, but a simplicity in
appearance must proceed from a nicety in reality. One should not be
simply ill-dressed, but simply well-dressed. Lord Castlereagh would
never have been pronounced the most distinguished man in the gay court
of Vienna, because he wore no orders or ribbons among hundreds decorated
with a profusion of those vanities, but because besides this he was
dressed with taste. The charm of Brummell's dress was its simplicity;
yet it cost him as much thought, time, and care as the portfolio of a
minister. The rules of simplicity, therefore, are the rules of taste.
All extravagance, all splendor, and all profusion must be avoided. The
colors, in the first place, must harmonize both with our complexion and
with one another; perhaps most of all with the color of our hair. All
bright colors should be avoided, such as red, yellow, sky-blue, and
bright green. Perhaps only a successful Australian gold digger would
think of choosing such colors for his coat, waistcoat, or trousers; but
there are hundreds of young men who might select them for their gloves
and neck-ties. The deeper colors are, some how or other, more manly, and
are certainly less striking. The same simplicity should be studied in
the avoidance of ornamentation. A few years ago it was the fashion to
trim the evening waistcoat with a border of gold lace. This is an
example of fashions always to be rebelled against. Then, too,
extravagance in the form of our dress is a sin against taste. I remember
that long ribbons took the place of neck-ties some years ago. At a
commemoration, two friends of mine determined to cut a figure in this
matter, having little else to distinguish them. The one wore two yards
of bright pink; the other the same quantity of bright blue ribbon, round
their necks. I have reason to believe they think now that they both
looked superbly ridiculous. In the same way, if the trousers are worn
wide, we should not wear them as loose as a Turk's; or, if the sleeves
are to be open, we should not rival the ladies in this matter. And so on
through a hundred details, generally remembering that to exaggerate a
fashion is to assume a character, and therefore vulgar. The wearing of
jewelry comes under this head. Jewels are an ornament to women, but a
blemish to men. They bespeak either effeminacy or a love of display. The
hand of a man is honored in working, for labor is his mission; and the
hand that wears its riches on its fingers, has rarely worked honestly
to win them. The best jewel a man can wear is his honor. Let that be
bright and shining, well set in prudence, and all others must darken
before it. But as we are savages, and must have some silly trickery to
hang about us, a little, but very little concession may be made to our
taste in this respect. I am quite serious when I disadvise you from the
use of nose-rings, gold anklets, and hat-bands studded with jewels; for
when I see an incredulous young man of the nineteenth century, dangling
from his watch-chain a dozen silly 'charms' (often the only ones he
possesses), which have no other use than to give a fair coquette a
legitimate subject on which to approach to closer intimacy, and which
are revived from the lowest superstitions of dark ages, and sometimes
darker races, I am quite justified in believing that some South African
chieftain, sufficiently rich to cut a dash, might introduce with success
the most peculiar fashions of his own country. However this may be,
there are already sufficient extravagances prevalent among our young men
to attack.
"The man of good taste will wear as little jewelry as possible. One
handsome signet-ring on the little finger of the left hand, a scarf-pin
which is neither large, nor showy, nor too intricate in its design, and
a light, rather thin watch-guard with a cross-bar, are all that he ought
to wear. But, if he aspires to more than this, he should observe the
following rules:--
"1. Let everything be real and good. False jewelry is not only a
practical lie, but an absolute vulgarity, since its use arises from an
attempt to appear richer or grander than its wearer is.
"2. Let it be simple. Elaborate studs, waistcoat-buttons, and
wrist-links, are all abominable. The last, particularly, should be as
plain as possible, consisting of plain gold ovals, with, at most, the
crest engraved upon them. Diamonds and brilliants are quite unsuitable
to men, whose jewelry should never be conspicuous. If you happen to
possess a single diamond of great value you may wear it on great
occasions as a ring, but no more than one ring should ever be worn by a
gentleman.
"3. Let it be distinguished rather by its curiosity than its brilliance.
An antique or bit of old jewelry possesses more interest, particularly
if you are able to tell its history, than the most splendid production
of the goldsmith's shop.
"4. Let it harmonize with the colors of your dress.
"5. Let it have some use. Men should never, like women, wear jewels for
mere ornament, whatever may be the fashion of Hungarian noblemen, and
deposed Indian rajahs with jackets covered with rubies.
"The precious stones are reserved for ladies, and even our scarf-pins
are more suitable without them.
"The dress that is both appropriate and simple can never offend, nor
render its wearer conspicuous, though it may distinguish him for his
good taste. But it will not be pleasing unless clean and fresh. We
cannot quarrel with a poor gentleman's thread-bare coat, if his linen be
pure, and we see that he has never attempted to dress beyond his means
or unsuitably to his station. But the sight of decayed gentility and
dilapidated fashion may call forth our pity, and, at the same time
prompt a moral: 'You have evidently sunken;' we say to ourselves; 'But
whose fault was it? Am I not led to suppose that the extravagance which
you evidently once revelled in has brought you to what I now see you?'
While freshness is essential to being well-dressed, it will be a
consolation to those who cannot afford a heavy tailor's bill, to reflect
that a visible newness in one's clothes is as bad as patches and darns,
and to remember that there have been celebrated dressers who would never
put on a new coat till it had been worn two or three times by their
valets. On the other hand, there is no excuse for untidiness, holes in
the boots, a broken hat, torn gloves, and so on. Indeed, it is better to
wear no gloves at all than a pair full of holes. There is nothing to be
ashamed of in bare hands, if they are clean, and the poor can still
afford to have their shirts and shoes mended, and their hats ironed. It
is certainly better to show signs of neatness than the reverse, and you
need sooner be ashamed of a hole than a darn.
"Of personal cleanliness I have spoken at such length that little need
be said on that of the clothes. If you are economical with your tailor,
you can be extravagant with your laundress. The beaux of forty years
back put on three shirts a day, but except in hot weather one is
sufficient. Of course, if you change your dress in the evening you must
change your shirt too. There has been a great outcry against colored
flannel shirts in the place of linen, and the man who can wear one for
three days is looked on as little better than St. Simeon Stylites. I
should like to know how often the advocates of linen change their own
under-flannel, and whether the same rule does not apply to what is seen
as to what is concealed. But while the flannel is perhaps healthier as
absorbing the moisture more rapidly, the linen has the advantage of
_looking_ cleaner, and may therefore be preferred. As to economy, if the
flannel costs less to wash, it also wears out sooner; but, be this as it
may, a man's wardrobe is not complete without half a dozen or so of
these shirts, which he will find most useful, and ten times more
comfortable than linen in long excursions, or when exertion will be
required. Flannel, too, has the advantage of being warm in winter and
cool in summer, for, being a non-conductor, but a retainer of heat, it
protects the body from the sun, and, on the other hand, shields it from
the cold. But the best shirt of all, particularly in winter, is that
which wily monks and hermits pretended to wear for a penance, well
knowing that they could have no garment cooler, more comfortable, or
more healthy. I mean, of course, the rough hair-shirt. Like flannel, it
is a non-conductor of heat; but then, too, it acts the part of a
shampooer, and with its perpetual friction soothes the surface of the
skin, and prevents the circulation from being arrested at any one point
of the body. Though I doubt if any of my readers will take a hint from
the wisdom of the merry anchorites, they will perhaps allow me to
suggest that the next best thing to wear next the skin is flannel, and
that too of the coarsest description.
"Quantity is better than quality in linen. Nevertheless it should be
fine and well spun. The loose cuff, which we borrowed from the French
some four years ago, is a great improvement on the old tight wrist-band,
and, indeed, it must be borne in mind that anything which binds any
part of the body tightly impedes the circulation, and is therefore
unhealthy as well as ungraceful.
"The necessity for a large stock of linen depends on a rule far better
than Brummell's, of three shirts a day, viz:--
"Change your linen whenever it is at all dirty.
"This is the best guide with regard to collars, socks,
pocket-handkerchiefs, and our under garments. No rule can be laid down
for the number we should wear per week, for everything depends on
circumstances. Thus in the country all our linen remains longer clean
than in town; in dirty, wet, or dusty weather, our socks get soon dirty
and must be changed; or, if we have a cold, to say nothing of the
possible but not probable case of tear-shedding on the departure of
friends, we shall want more than one pocket-handkerchief per diem. In
fact, the last article of modern civilization is put to so many uses, is
so much displayed, and liable to be called into action on so many
various engagements, that we should always have a clean one in our
pockets. Who knows when it may not serve us is in good stead? Who can
tell how often the corner of the delicate cambric will have to represent
a tear which, like difficult passages in novels is 'left to the
imagination.' Can a man of any feeling call on a disconsolate widow, for
instance, and listen to her woes, without at least pulling out that
expressive appendage? Can any one believe in our sympathy if the article
in question is a dirty one? There are some people who, like the clouds,
only exist to weep; and King Solomon, though not one of them, has given
them great encouragement in speaking of the house of mourning. We are
bound to weep with them, and we are bound to weep elegantly.
"A man whose dress is neat, clean, simple, and appropriate, will pass
muster anywhere.
"A well-dressed man does not require so much an extensive as a varied
wardrobe. He wants a different costume for every season and every
occasion; but if what he selects is simple rather than striking, he may
appear in the same clothes as often as he likes, as long as they are
fresh and appropriate to the season and the object. There are four kinds
of coats which he must have: a morning-coat, a frock-coat, a dress-coat,
and an over-coat. An economical man may do well with four of the first,
and one of each of the others per annum. The dress of a gentleman in the
present day should not cost him more than the tenth part of his income
on an average. But as fortunes vary more than position, if his income is
large it will take a much smaller proportion, if small a larger one. If
a man, however, mixes in society, and I write for those who do so, there
are some things which are indispensable to even the proper dressing, and
every occasion will have its proper attire.
"In his own house then, and in the morning, there is no reason why he
should not wear out his old clothes. Some men take to the delightful
ease of a dressing-gown and slippers; and if bachelors, they do well. If
family men, it will probably depend on whether the lady or the gentleman
wears the pantaloons. The best walking-dress for a non-professional man
is a suit of tweed of the same color, ordinary boots, gloves not too
dark for the coat, a scarf with a pin in winter, or a small tie of one
color in summer, a respectable black hat and a cane. The last item is
perhaps the most important, and though its use varies with fashion, I
confess I am sorry when I see it go out. The best substitute for a
walking-stick is an umbrella, _not_ a parasol unless it be given you by
a lady to carry. The main point of the walking-dress is the harmony of
colors, but this should not be carried to the extent of M. de Maltzan,
who some years ago made a bet to wear nothing but pink at Baden-Baden
for a whole year, and had boots and gloves of the same lively hue. He
won his wager, but also the soubriquet of 'Le Diable enflammé.' The
walking-dress should vary according to the place and hour. In the
country or at the sea-side a straw hat or wide-awake may take the place
of the beaver, and the nuisance of gloves be even dispensed with in the
former. But in the city where a man is supposed to make visits as well
as lounge in the street, the frock coat of very dark blue or black, or a
black cloth cut-away, the white waistcoat, and lavender gloves, are
almost indispensable. Very thin boots should be avoided at all times,
and whatever clothes one wears they should be well brushed. The shirt,
whether seen or not, should be quite plain. The shirt collar should
never have a color on it, but it may be stiff or turned down according
as the wearer is Byronically or Brummellically disposed. The scarf, if
simple and of modest colors, is perhaps the best thing we can wear round
the neck; but if a neck-tie is preferred it should not be too long, nor
tied in too stiff and studied a manner. The cane should be extremely
simple, a mere stick in fact, with no gold head, and yet for the town
not rough, thick, or clumsy. The frock-coat should be ample and loose,
and a tall well-built man may throw it back. At any rate, it should
never be buttoned up. Great-coats should be buttoned up, of a dark
color, not quite black, longer than the frock-coat, but never long
enough to reach the ankles. If you have visits to make you should do
away with the great-coat, if the weather allows you to do so. The
frock-coat, or black cut-away, with a white waistcoat in summer, is the
best dress for making calls in.
"It is simple nonsense to talk of modern civilization, and rejoice that
the cruelties of the dark ages can never be perpetrated in these days
and this country. I maintain that they are perpetrated freely,
generally, daily, with the consent of the wretched victim himself, in
the compulsion to wear evening clothes. Is there anything at once more
comfortless or more hideous? Let us begin with what the delicate call
limb-covers, which we are told were the invention of the Gauls, but I am
inclined to think, of a much worse race, for it is clearly an
anachronism to ascribe the discovery to a Venetian called Piantaleone,
and it can only have been Inquisitors or demons who inflicted this
scourge on the race of man, and his ninth-parts, the tailors, for I take
it that both are equally bothered by the tight pantaloon. Let us pause
awhile over this unsightly garment, and console ourselves with the
reflection that as every country, and almost every year, has a different
fashion in its make of it, we may at last be emancipated from it
altogether, or at least be able to wear it _à la Turque_.
"But it is not all trousers that I rebel against. If I might wear linen
appendices in summer, and fur continuations in winter, I would not
groan, but it is the evening-dress that inflicts on the man who likes
society the necessity of wearing the same trying cloth all the year
round, so that under Boreas he catches colds, and under the dog-star he
melts. This unmentionable, but most necessary disguise of the 'human
form divine,' is one that never varies in this country, and therefore I
must lay down the rule:--
"For all evening wear--black cloth trousers.
"But the tortures of evening dress do not end with our lower limbs. Of
all the iniquities perpetrated under the Reign of Terror, none has
lasted so long as that of the strait-jacket, which was palmed off on the
people as a 'habit de compagnie.' If it were necessary to sing a hymn of
praise to Robespierre, Marat, and Co., I would rather take the
guillotine as my subject to extol than the swallow tail. And yet we
endure the stiffness, unsightliness, uncomfortableness, and want of
grace of the latter, with more resignation than that with which
Charlotte Corday put her beautiful neck into the 'trou d'enfer' of the
former. Fortunately modern republicanism has triumphed over ancient
etiquette, and the tail-coat of to-day is looser and more easy than it
was twenty years ago. I can only say, let us never strive to make it
bearable, till we have abolished it. Let us abjure such vulgarities as
silk collars, white silk linings, and so forth, which attempt to
beautify this monstrosity, as a hangman might wreathe his gallows with
roses. The plainer the manner in which you wear your misery, the
better.
"Then, again, the black waistcoat, stiff, tight, and comfortless. Fancy
Falstaff in a ball-dress such as we now wear. No amount of embroidery,
gold-trimmings, or jewel-buttons will render such an infliction grateful
to the mass. The best plan is to wear thorough mourning for your
wretchedness. In France and America, the cooler white waistcoat is
admitted. However, as we have it, let us make the best of it, and not
parade our misery by hideous ornamentation. The only evening waistcoat
for all purposes for a man of taste is one of simple black, with the
simplest possible buttons.
"These three items never vary for dinner-party, muffin-worry, or ball.
The only distinction allowed is in the neck-tie. For dinner, the opera,
and balls, this must be white, and the smaller the better. It should be
too, of a washable texture, not silk, nor netted, nor hanging down, nor
of any foppish production, but a simple, white tie, without embroidery.
The black tie is admitted for evening parties, and should be equally
simple. The shirt-front, which figures under the tie should be plain,
with unpretending small plaits. The glove must be white, not yellow.
Recently, indeed, a fashion has sprung up of wearing lavender gloves in
the evening. They are economical, and as all economy is an abomination,
must be avoided. Gloves should always be worn at a ball. At a
dinner-party in town they should be worn on entering the room, and drawn
off for dinner. While, on the one hand, we must avoid the awkwardness of
a gallant sea-captain who, wearing no gloves at a dance, excused himself
to his partner by saying, 'Never mind, miss, I can wash my hands when
I've done dancing,' we have no need, in the present day, to copy the
Roman gentleman mentioned by Athenæus, who wore gloves at dinner that he
might pick his meat from the hot dishes more rapidly than the
bare-handed guests. As to gloves at tea-parties and so forth, we are
generally safer with than without them. If it is quite a small party, we
may leave them in our pocket, and in the country they are scarcely
expected to be worn; but 'touch not a cat but with a glove;' you are
always safer with them.
"I must not quit this subject without assuring myself that my reader
knows more about it now than he did before. In fact I have taken one
thing for granted, viz., that he knows what it is to be dressed, and
what undressed. Of course I do not suppose him to be in the blissful
state of ignorance on the subject once enjoyed by our first parents. I
use the words 'dressed' and 'undressed' rather in the sense meant by a
military tailor, or a cook with reference to a salad. You need not be
shocked. I am one of those people who wear spectacles for fear of seeing
anything with the naked eye. I am the soul of scrupulosity. But I am
wondering whether everybody arranges his wardrobe as our ungrammatical
nurses used to do ours, under the heads of 'best, second-best,
third-best,' and so on, and knows what things ought to be placed under
each. To be 'undressed' is to be dressed for work and ordinary
occupations, to wear a coat which you do not fear to spoil, and a
neck-tie which your ink-stand will not object to, but your acquaintance
might. To be 'dressed,' on the other hand, since by dress we show our
respect for society at large, or the persons with whom we are to
mingle, is to be clothed in the garments which the said society
pronounces as suitable to particular occasions; so that evening dress in
the morning, morning dress in the evening, and top boots and a red coat
for walking, may all be called 'undress,' if not positively 'bad dress.'
But there are shades of being 'dressed;' and a man is called 'little
dressed,' 'well dressed,' and 'much dressed,' not according to the
quantity but the quality of his coverings.
"To be 'little dressed,' is to wear old things, of a make that is no
longer the fashion, having no pretension to elegance, artistic beauty,
or ornament. It is also to wear lounging clothes on occasions which
demand some amount of precision. To be 'much dressed' is to be in the
extreme of the fashion, with bran new clothes, jewelry, and ornaments,
with a touch of extravagance and gaiety in your colors. Thus to wear
patent leather boots and yellow gloves in a quiet morning stroll is to
be much dressed, and certainly does not differ immensely from being
badly dressed. To be 'well dressed' is the happy medium between these
two, which is not given to every one to hold, inasmuch as good taste is
rare, and is a _sine quâ non_ thereof. Thus while you avoid ornament and
all fastness, you must cultivate fashion, that is _good_ fashion, in the
make of your clothes. A man must not be made by his tailor, but should
make him, educate him, give him his own good taste. To be well dressed
is to be dressed precisely as the occasion, place, weather, your height,
figure, position, age, and, remember it, your _means_ require. It is to
be clothed without peculiarity, pretension, or eccentricity; without
violent colors, elaborate ornament, or senseless fashions, introduced,
often, by tailors for their own profit. Good dressing is to wear as
little jewelry as possible, to be scrupulously neat, clean, and fresh,
and to carry your clothes as if you did not give them a thought.
"Then, too, there is a scale of honor among clothes, which must not be
forgotten. Thus, a new coat is more honorable than an old one, a
cut-away or shooting-coat than a dressing-gown, a frock-coat than a
cut-away, a dark blue frock-coat than a black frock-coat, a tail-coat
than a frock-coat. There is no honor at all in a blue tail-coat,
however, except on a gentleman of eighty, accompanied with brass buttons
and a buff waistcoat. There is more honor in an old hunting-coat than in
a new one, in a uniform with a bullet hole in it than one without, in a
fustian jacket and smock-frock than in a frock-coat, because they are
types of labor, which is far more honorable than lounging. Again, light
clothes are generally placed above dark ones, because they cannot be so
long worn, and are, therefore, proofs of expenditure, _alias_ money,
which in this world is a commodity more honored than every other; but,
on the other hand, tasteful dress is always more honorable than that
which has only cost much. Light gloves are more esteemed than dark ones,
and the prince of glove-colors is, undeniably, lavender.
"'I should say Jones was a fast man,' said a friend to me one day, 'for
he wears a white hat.' If this idea of my companion's be right, fastness
may be said to consist mainly in peculiarity. There is certainly only
one step from the sublimity of fastness to the ridiculousness of
snobbery, and it is not always easy to say where the one ends and the
other begins. A dandy, on the other hand, is the clothes on a man, not a
man in clothes, a living lay figure who displays much dress, and is
quite satisfied if you praise it without taking heed of him. A bear is
in the opposite extreme; never dressed enough, and always very roughly;
but he is almost as bad as the other, for he sacrifices everything to
his ease and comfort. The off-hand style of dress only suits an off-hand
character. It was, at one time, the fashion to affect a certain
negligence, which was called poetic, and supposed to be the result of
genius. An ill-tied, if not positively untied cravat was a sure sign of
an unbridled imagination; and a waistcoat was held together by one
button only, as if the swelling soul in the wearer's bosom had burst all
the rest. If, in addition to this, the hair was unbrushed and curly, you
were certain of passing for a 'man of soul.' I should not recommend any
young gentleman to adopt this style, unless, indeed, he can mouth a
great deal, and has a good stock of quotations from the poets. It is of
no use to show me the clouds, unless I can positively see you in them,
and no amount of negligence in your dress and person will convince me
you are a genius, unless you produce an octavo volume of poems published
by yourself. I confess I am glad that the _négligé_ style, so common in
novels of ten years back, has been succeeded by neatness. What we want
is real ease in the clothes, and, for my part, I should rejoice to see
the Knickerbocker style generally adopted.
"Besides the ordinary occasions treated of before, there are several
special occasions requiring a change of dress. Most of our sports,
together with marriage (which some people include in sports), come under
this head. Now, the less change we make the better in the present day,
particularly in the sports, where, if we are dressed with scrupulous
accuracy, we are liable to be subjected to a comparison between our
clothes and our skill. A man who wears a red coat to hunt in, should be
able to hunt, and not sneak through gates or dodge over gaps. A few
remarks on dresses worn in different sports may be useful. Having laid
down the rule that a strict accuracy of sporting costume is no longer in
good taste, we can dismiss shooting and fishing at once, with the
warning that we must not dress _well_ for either. An old coat with large
pockets, gaiters in one case, and, if necessary, large boots in the
other, thick shoes at any rate, a wide-awake, and a well-filled bag or
basket at the end of the day, make up a most respectable sportsman of
the lesser kind. Then for cricket you want nothing more unusual than
flannel trousers, which should be quite plain, unless your club has
adopted some colored stripe thereon, a colored flannel shirt of no very
violent hue, the same colored cap, shoes with spikes in them, and a
great coat.
"For hunting, lastly, you have to make more change, if only to insure
your own comfort and safety. Thus cord-breeches and some kind of boots
are indispensable. So are spurs, so a hunting-whip or crop; so too, if
you do not wear a hat, is the strong round cap that is to save your
valuable skull from cracking if you are thrown on your head. Again, I
should pity the man who would attempt to hunt in a frock-coat or a
dress-coat; and a scarf with a pin in it is much more convenient than a
tie. But beyond these you need nothing out of the common way, but a
pocketful of money. The red coat, for instance, is only worn by regular
members of a hunt, and boys who ride over the hounds and like to display
their 'pinks.' In any case you are better with an ordinary riding-coat
of dark color, though undoubtedly the red is prettier in the field. If
you _will_ wear the latter, see that it is cut square, for the
swallow-tail is obsolete, and worn only by the fine old boys who
'hunted, sir, fifty years ago, sir, when I was a boy of fifteen, sir.
Those _were_ hunting days, sir; such runs and such leaps.' Again, your
'cords' should be light in color and fine in quality; your waistcoat, if
with a red coat, quite light too; your scarf of cashmere, of a buff
color, and fastened with a small simple gold pin; your hat should be
old, and your cap of dark green or black velvet, plated inside, and with
a small stiff peak, should be made to look old. Lastly, for a choice of
boots. The Hessians are more easily cleaned, and therefore less
expensive to keep; the 'tops' are more natty. Brummell, who cared more
for the hunting-dress than the hunting itself, introduced the fashion of
pipe-claying the tops of the latter, but the old original 'mahoganies,'
of which the upper leathers are simply polished, seem to be coming into
fashion again."