In dress, as in most other things, there are two kinds of taste; good
taste and bad taste. We use the word "taste" in a sense quite distinct
from "style." It is a disputed point whether really good taste can
ever be acquired, or whether it is only inherent. We are disposed
to think that, in its most perfect form, it is inborn; but that
education, association, familiarity with it may, and often does,
arrive at the same result. For instance, a person who has always lived
on close and intimate terms with those who are conspicuous for their
good taste, becomes so familiarized with certain expressions of
thoughts and ideas, habits of mind, and standard of life, that he
unconsciously adopts them, views things from the same point, and walks
in the same groove, quite irrespective of the natural tendencies of
his own mind. Persons who have no natural gift or talent for painting,
may acquire a knowledge of the art so as to pronounce with tolerable
correctness of judgment upon the works of the old masters, from merely
associating with those who are conversant with the subject, living
amongst the pictures themselves, or from hearing discussions upon
their respective merits. In fact, man is an imitative animal, and
can adapt himself very readily to the circumstances by which he is
surrounded, as well as acquire from others the results of their deeper
research and greater experience. Living in an atmosphere where good
taste prevails, it is not wonderful that he should acquire that power
of discrimination by which the selection of what is becoming and
harmonious is made easy.
There is no doubt that dress is a very fair index of the mind of the
wearer. Who but a Widow Barnaby would wear a bright emerald green
satin dress in the morning, and a bonnet profusely ornamented with
large and brilliant scarlet flowers? Yet we have ourselves seen a
lady, of ample dimensions and advanced years, similarly attired, and
could think of nothing but one of those large gaudy macaws which are
to be met with in every zoological garden. Who that had any regard for
his own liberty would marry such a strong-minded, pretentious dame?
Who could endure for life the vulgarity of mind that suggested such
a costume for a fête in the country on a hot summer's day? There are
some persons who think to overpower their neighbours by the splendour
of their attire.
It is much easier to point out what offends against good taste than to
say in so many words in what it consists.
Harmony of colour is essential to being well dressed. There are
colours which "swear" so awfully, that no one with any pretension to
good taste would wear them; yet we not unfrequently find instances of
them. A yellow gown has been worn with a bright green bonnet; red and
green, like our friend à-la-macaw; salmon colour and blue; yellow and
red; green and blue. Two ill-assorted shades of the same colour, such
as a dark and light blue; or a red lilac and a blue lilac; or a
rose pink and a blue pink; or drab and yellow. Instances might
be multiplied without end of incongruous inharmonious blending of
colours, the mere sight of which is enough to give any one a bilious
fever. There are colours which, in themselves, may be inoffensive, but
of which only particular shades assort well together. Blue and pink
was a very favourite combination at one time; but in order to be both
pleasing and effective, it must be one particular shade of each, and
these softened and blended by the addition of white. Again, shades of
scarlet and blue harmonize well together. Black has a wonderful power
in softening down any intrusive brilliancy. It tones down scarlet
and pink, blue and yellow, and gives them an indescribable charm,
suggesting all kinds of pleasant things--the Cachuca and castanets,
and the mantilla worn with such inimitable grace and coquetry by the
Spanish ladies. Black and white is also a pleasing combination. White
has generally the opposite effect of black. It adds to the brilliancy
of the colours, and smartens rather than subdues. Many of those who
aim at being well dressed, rarely give sufficient attention to this
harmony of colour. One little thing will upset the whole. The choice
of jewels or the head dress may destroy all the effect which has
been admirably conceived by an experienced dressmaker. It is on this
account that some milliners prefer to supply all that is requisite
for a particular costume. The man-milliner at Paris is said to be very
dictatorial on this subject, and to decide very peremptorily as to
what shall or shall not be worn. In morning costumes, a pair of gloves
badly chosen will mar the effect of the whole. Imagine a lady dressed
in mauve silk, with a mauve bonnet, and _emerald green kid gloves_! or
vice versâ, in green silk, with a bonnet to match, and _mauve-coloured
gloves_! Dark green, dark mauve, or plum coloured, dark salmon, or
dark yellow gloves, are enough to spoil the most faultless costume;
because they interrupt the harmony of colour; like the one string of
a musical instrument, which, being out of tune, creates a discord
throughout all the rest.
Variety in colour is another great defect in dress, quite apart from
the question of their harmony. A multiplicity of colours, though not
in themselves inharmonious, is never pleasing. It fatigues the eye,
which cannot find any repose where it is disturbed by so many colours.
A bonnet of one colour, a gown of another, with trimmings of a third,
a mantle of a fourth, and a parasol of a fifth colour, can never
form a costume that will please the eye. It is laid to the charge of
English people, that they are especially fond of this kind of dress,
whereas a French woman will dress much more quietly, though, by no
means, less expensively; but in her choice of colours she will use
very few, and those well assorted. For instance, a grey gown and
a white bonnet, relieved by a black lace shawl or velvet mantle,
indicate a refinement which may be looked in vain where the colours of
the rainbow prevail. Among well-dressed persons it will be found that
quiet colours are always preferred. Whatever is gaudy is offensive,
and the use of many colours constitutes gaudiness. Birds of gay
plumage are sometimes brought forward to sanction the use of many
bright colours. They are indeed worthy of all admiration; so also are
flowers, in which we find the most beautiful assortment of colours;
but nature has shaded and blended them together with such exquisite
skill and delicacy, that they are placed far beyond the reach of all
human art; and we think they are, to use the mildest terms, both bold
and unwise who attempt to reproduce in their own persons, with the aid
of silks or satins, the marvellous effect of colours with which nature
abounds. And yet it may be observed in nature, how gay colours are
neutralized by their accessories; how the greens vary in tone and tint
according to the blossoms which they surround. The infinite shades and
depths of colour with which nature is filled render it impossible
for anyone to attempt to imitate it beyond a certain point of general
harmony. This is now more generally understood than it used to be; but
still we often stumble across some glaring instance in which a gaudy
eye and taste have been allowed to run riot, and the result has been
the reproduction of something not very unlike a bed of tulips.
It is in a host of little things such as these that good taste
lies, and shows itself. We remember an instance of a lady, who was
conspicuous among her fellows for her exquisitely good taste in dress,
being severely commented upon by two showily-dressed women, who were
the wives of wealthy merchants in one of our great seaport-towns.
This lady appeared in church quietly dressed in black, with a handsome
Indian shawl, of which the colours were subdued and wonderfully
blended. The two representatives of the "nouveaux riches" looked
at the lady and then at each other; they turned up their noses, and
shrugged their shoulders, and gave vent to their feelings, as they
came away from church, in loud exclamations of disdain: "Well! did you
ever? No! I never did; and she a lady too! For their part they would
be ashamed to wear such a shabby old shawl." The shawl was worth about
its weight in gold; but because it was not showy, it found no favour
in their eyes.
As it is so intricate a matter, and one of which a very slight thing
can turn the scales, it is not easy to lay down rules by which good
taste may be acquired. But there are instances of bad taste which can
be avoided, and among them there is one which is self-evident, and
does not relate either to harmony or to variety of colours. We allude
to the good taste of dressing according to our means and station.
There is an impression in the minds of some persons, that fine
feathers make fine birds, and that the world in general thinks more
or less of them according to the dress they wear. Therefore, in
order that they may impose upon their neighbours by their outward
appearance, and, as children say, make-believe that they are richer
than they really are, they dress beyond their means, and, at the cost
of much privation of even the necessaries of life, make a display
which they are not warranted in making. We have known those who have
pinched themselves till they have brought on actual illness, or have
laid the foundation of a fatal disease, in order that they might dress
themselves in a style beyond their position in life. In France this is
often the case. A lady who, in her ordinary attire, is as slovenly
and as shabbily dressed as almost the very beggar in the street, will
appear at some evening party most exquisitely dressed, and will carry
on her back the savings acquired by months and years of penurious
self-denial.
We respect those who struggle hard to maintain their hereditary
position, and reverence within certain limits the spirit of endurance
which bears in privacy the changes of fortune in order to keep up a
becoming appearance in the eyes of the world. But we have no sympathy
for those who, having no such excuse, having no high lineage, and to
whom fortune has not been unkind, stint and screw that they may impose
upon their neighbours with the notion that they are better off than
they really are,--better off in money, and better off in position.
Imposture of this kind we confess we have no patience for. We are very
intolerant of it. It is a vulgarity which, wherever it may be found,
is most offensive. We go even further still, and are disposed to blame
all who, whatever their circumstances or condition may have been or
may be, dress beyond their means. It is possible that some relics of
past grandeur may yet remain to be worn on state occasions. With
that no one can quarrel; but it is a mistake to make great and
unwarrantable sacrifices in order to replenish the exhausted wardrobe
on its former scale of magnificence. It is better far to accept fate,
to comply with the inevitable, and not waste time and strength in
fighting against the iron gates of destiny. No one, whose esteem is
worth having, will respect us less because we dress according to our
means, even if those means should have dwindled into insignificance.
But if we toil unduly to make ourselves appear to be something that
we are not, we shall earn contempt and reap disappointment. It is far
more noble-minded to bid farewell to all our greatness, than to catch
greedily at any of the outlying tinsel that may remain here and there.
This indicates good taste more than anything. To be what we are,
really and simply, and without pretension, is one of the greatest
proofs of good feeling which, in matters of dress, resolves itself
into good taste.
There is nothing more hateful than pretension. The fable of the "Frog
and the Bull" illustrates the absurdity of it. Yet it is of every-day
occurrence, and we continually meet with instances of it. Persons
in humble class of life will often ape their betters, dressing after
them, and absolutely going without necessary food in order to get
some piece of finery. Fine gowns of inconvenient length, expanded
over large crinolines--silk mantles richly trimmed,--often conceal the
coarsest, scantiest, and most ragged underclothing. We have seen the
most diminutive bonnets, not bigger than saucers, ornamented with
beads and flowers and lace, and backed up by ready-made "chignons,"
on the heads of girls who are only one degree removed from the
poor-house. Servant-girls who can scarcely read, much less write,--who
do not know how to spell their names,--who have low wages,--and, as
little children, had scarcely shoes to their feet,--who perhaps never
saw fresh meat in their homes, except at Christmas, when it was given
them by some rich neighbour,--spend all their earnings on their dress,
appear on Sundays in hats and feathers, or bonnets and flowers, and
veils and parasols, and long trailing skirts, which they do not care
to hold up out of the dirt, but with which they sweep the pavement.
Can it be said that this is good taste? Assuredly not. It could not
well be worse.
The question of station and of means does not seem to rule the world
in general. Everything is considered to be suited to every body; and
the maid-of-all-work does not hesitate to copy, to the utmost extent
of her power, the dress of the greatest lady in the land. She does not
see why she should not dress as she likes, and is not restrained
in her wish by good taste. We do not wish to argue in favour of any
monopoly, but we confess that we should like to see people of all
classes regulated by good taste in matters of dress.
On the Continent we find the evils we complain of partially remedied
by national costumes; but these are fast diminishing, and are only
to be found in all their perfection in those parts into which the
railways have not yet penetrated. Yet, who does not look with pleasure
upon the clean white cap of the French servant, or bonne, who goes
to market and to church without a bonnet, and with only her thick
snow-white cap? Who does not delight in the simplicity of dress which
the French, Norman, and Breton peasants still preserve? Contrast it
with the dress of our servant-girls, with their crinoline and absurd
little bonnets, and say which is the best taste.
After all that can be said there is no doubt that one of the objects
of dress should be to enable people to do what they have to do in the
best, the most convenient, and the most respectable manner. At all
events it should not interfere with their occupation. Did our readers
ever see a London housemaid cleaning the doorsteps of a London house?
It is a most unedifying sight. As the poor girl kneels and stoops
forward to whiten and clean the steps her crinoline goes up as her
head goes down, and her person is exposed to the gaze of policemen and
errand-boys, who are not slow to chaff her upon the size and shape of
her legs. Can this be called dressing in good taste? Would it not be
wiser to discard the crinoline altogether till the day's work is done,
and the servants make themselves tidy for their tea and their evening
recreation. In some families this is insisted on. But, on the other
hand, it is complained against as an infringement upon the liberty of
the subject, which is an unreasonable complaint, as the subject may go
elsewhere if she dislikes to have her liberty so interfered with.
Good taste in dress is a question which is, by no means, above the
consideration of old and elderly women. There are some who never can
imagine themselves old. Whether it is owing to the eternal youth of
their mind and spirits, or to their vanity, we do not pretend to say;
but one thing is certain that again and again have we been both amused
and disgusted by the way in which old women dress themselves. A lady
with whom we were acquainted used to dress in blue or white gauze or
tarlatan, or any light material she could lay her hands on, when she
was past _eighty_, and she vainly imagined that, with an affectation
of youth in her gait, and with the aid of the rouge-pot, she could
conceal her age. She would trip into the room like a young girl, with
her light gossamer dress floating around her as if she were some sylph
in a ballet. She was a wonderful woman for her age, and, no doubt, had
been so accustomed to the remarks that were continually made upon her
agility and appearance, that she had at last grown to think herself
almost as young as she was _sixty years_ ago. It was but the other day
that we saw an old woman with grey hair wearing a little hat placed
coquettishly upon her head, with a large chignon of grey hair filling
up the back! Sometimes we have seen old women spurning the sober tints
which accord with their years, and coming out dressed like Queens of
the May in garlands and flowers; and wearing bonnets that would be
trying even to a belle of eighteen. But when people resolutely refuse
to accept the fact that they are no longer young, it is not surprising
that they should run into some extremes, and offend against good taste
by dressing in a style utterly unsuited to their years. And yet
there is no more pleasing sight than a good-looking old woman, who is
neither afraid or ashamed to recognize the fact of her age, and wears
the quiet and sober colours which belong to her years, modifying the
fashion of the day to suit herself, that she may neither ape the young
nor affect to revive in her own person the fashions of by-gone days.
Affectation of all kinds is detestable.
So also there are rules for the young, which, if attended to, will
prevent their offending against good taste. The young are, of all
people, without excuse. The freshness of youth has a beauty of its own
which needs but little outward adornment. The ravages of time have not
to be repaired. Youth has charms of its own, and the more simply it
is attired the better. Everything is in favour of the young. When
they adopt elaborate or rich toilets, when they make flower-gardens of
their heads, or wear strong and glaring colours, the chances are that
they disfigure themselves. A young girl should never make herself
conspicuous by her dress. Let it be as good as she pleases, as costly
as she can afford, still let it be simple and unobtrusive. Let the
general effect be pleasing and grateful to the eye; but at the same
time let it be impossible to say in what it consists, or to remember
her on account of any peculiarity in it. If she is beautiful, let her
dress aid her beauty by not drawing away the attention from it. If
she is plain, let her not attract all eyes to her plainness. Let
not people say of her, "Did you see that ugly girl with that scarlet
feather in her hat?" or, "with that bonnet covered with pearl beads,
contrasting with her dark and sallow complexion?" or, "with that
bright green gown, which made her look so bilious?"
It is in small things, as well as in great, that good taste shows
itself. Well-fitting gloves and boots, things of small moment in
themselves, tell of a neat and refined taste. Quiet colours, well
assorted; an absence of glare and display, nothing in extremes,
betoken a correct eye and good taste.
It is, then, in the harmony of colour; in the use of a few colours at
one and the same time; in dressing according to their means, according
to their station, as well as according to their age, that people may
be said to show their good taste in dress. There are, doubtless, other
points of detail which will suggest themselves to the minds of our
readers; but we are confident that, if attention is given to the
points which it has been our wish to place prominently before
them, there will be fewer of those startling peculiarities and
eccentricities which offend against good taste.
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