WOMAN'S WORLD

Dominion, Volume 11, Issue 79, 27 December 1917, Page 3

WOMAN'S WORLD

(Continued from page 2.) SHORTAGE IN WARDROBES (By Join Chalfont in the "Daily Mail.") People who talk about coal shortage, hacon shortage, tea shortage, and sugar shortage hare no idea what a real shortage is. Let thorn go forth to buy a wardrobe. When I recently moved into one of those up-to-date nom9s whose builders disdain such antiquated conveniences as cupboards, a requisition was sprung on me that we must have another wardlobs. "■Wardrobes," I asked of the six-feet-throe Monarch who received mo within the big shop. "This wav ; please," boomed the Monarch, marching off (as they always do in big shops at six miles an hour). "Mr. Upjones, show this gentleman some wardrobes." I followed Mr. Upjones. "We are very short of wardrobes," he said discouragingly. "What sort of wardrobe do you require?" "Oh, an ordinary sort of wardrobe, not too expensive, to go with walnut furniture."

"We are very short of walnut wardrobes," said Mr. Upjonos a till more discouragingly. He lea me to the wardrobe stable There were very few wardrobes, and they huddled together, partly to oonvey the impression of a crowd, mainly, I imagine, to prop each other up. "A little bit groggy on their pinsP" I ventured to suggest to Mr. Up]ones. "They are war-time wardrobes,"' he replied severely, "the best we can get." He gently swayed one of the wardrobes. "It iB no defect in a wardrobe, sir, a little give and take. A certain 'whip' in the frame is " The wardrobe did a Bort of two-step and then lurched forward. Mr. Upjones hurriedly retreated. "Perhaps a little too much play," he admitted. "What about this P" It was a dark, heavy wardrobe, with a cornice like a city bank and doors like a safe deposit. As a family refuge during air raids it had advantages. "How niuchP" I asked. "It's second-hand, the real old Victorian breed, solid as a rock," said Mr. Upjones. "The price is forty-eight pounds." "Good heavens," I cried, "I've come here for a wardrobe, not for a freehold estate." "Well " said Mr. Upjones, "that's about all we have in ffaluut. What about fumed oak?" "With walnut furniture. Impossible." ■ "Or &atinwood?" "Worse." "Or white enamel?" "How on earth can 1 put white auauiel with walnut P" "You would be astonished, sir," said Mr. Upjones gloomily, "to know what people are putting up with in these terrible days. Only the other day the Countess of " "Have you any more second-hand wardrobesP" I interposed. • Mr. Upjones took me to a sort of dungeon. A number of wardrobes were incarcerated in the dungeon. "Ah, here is a walnut one," oried Mr. Upjones. It was a Bill Sikes-faced wardrobe, with a heavy sullen brow. It looked more like a lethal chamber than a wardrobe. But it would hold clothes, and 1 was netting weary. "How much?" I asked.

Mr. Upjones consulted a ticket. "Twenty-eight pounds." "But you couldn't have given away a wardrobe like this before the war." _"I am aware of that," agreed Mr. Upjones sadly. "And it didn't cost' more than fifteen pounds when it was new—in I8G0." "I quite agree," said Mr. Upjones. "But there is a famine in wardrobes. People are taking anything they can snap up. Only the other day the Duchess of " "I'm sorry, but I'll have to try elsewhere." ,

"By all means, sir, but you won't get a better selection anywhere."

He was right. I scoured London trying to buy a wardrobe. I was certainly offered wardrobes, but always on condition that I tcok a "suite" with them. War-time wardrobes are evidently of such weakly and nervous constitution that they cannot be separated from their kith and kin. The only "solitaire" wardrobes I was offered were either priced for munition millionaires nr were wardrobes that had never been broken-in. In despair I returned to the first shop. I asked for Mr. Upjones. I pointed to the wardrobe that looked like a lethal chamber. "I'll take that brute." "Ah, too late, sir," said Mr. Upjones. "Only ten minutes ago the Princess of "