A "SENSIBLE” BEAUTY

Dominion, Volume 15, Issue 80, 28 December 1921, Page 9

A " SENSIBLE” BEAUTY

“Beauty," said Elizabeth, is a talent. Cultivate it, and it increases tonfold; bury it in a napkin, and it dies. “Im other words,” she added for the benefit of her puzzled little friend, “if you don’t take care of your looks, you soon won’t have any left to take hare of."

Tho Bride looked sad. She was a pretty little thing, very dependent on her colouring for her charm. In the strong light her small face was revealed as being a shade too powdered, the eyelashes darkened artificially; the soft hair a trifle too obviously “waved.” Iler strong-minded friend Elizabeth sat with tho late afternoon sun pouring over her face and hair, and revealing no (law in hor exquisite skin. Her sober dress was a foil to the whiteness of her neck and tho smooth forehead from which the golden hair rippled back. Dark eyebrows and long curling lashes emphasised tho clearness of her eyes. She was good to look at. Yet Elizabeth was apparently scornful of her own good fooks, cared little about pretty frocks, and ran a Government department with the greatest efficiency and common sense. "Elizabeth,” said the Bride, "it’s all very well for you to be sneering about powder and things, but you've got a perfect skin and gorgeous hair. I have to make up a bit."

"My dear child,” said Elizabeth, "of course I take reasonable care of my looks,, just as I wash my hands and' shine my shoes. You can’t leave everything to nature; wo all start well enough—look at babies' skins—but we don’t wear well. All this powder has a good enough effect —for a time—but sooner or later your skin gets course and there’s no hiding it.”

"I wish,” said the Bride, “that instead of lecturing you would tell me what to do. You say 'take care of your looks’ and 'don’t powder,’ but what shall I do?"

"Use your common sense," said Elizabeth. “If you thought deeply, you would soon see that making a mask of cream and powder over your face blocks up the pores and makes your skin rough and spotty. What you want is to peel off the soiled outer ekin and give the new one underneath a chance to show itself. Get some ordinary mercolised wax from your chemist, rub it on at night, and wash it off with good soap and water in the morning! Or if you are in a hurry, wash your face first, and before it is quite dry, rub the wax on, and dry your face with a towel. Either of these processes absorbs the old soiled outer skin and leaves the new clean complexion underneath revealed in all its beauty.” "But," objected the Bride, “my nose gets so shiny. I must powder." “There are other ways of preventing a shiny nose,” said Elizabeth. "My secret is a homely one. Just get some

eleminite, dissolve it in water, and use it as a lotion for your face and' neck. It wants to bo robbed into the skin lentil it is quite dry, and then it leaves a nice, even bloom, and prevents all 'shiniiness. Besides it doesn’t lock a bit like 'makeup,’ it just gives your face a kind of peach like bloom jvhich is a distinct asset.” "I suppose, said the Bride, there is no home-made substitute for rouge, is there? Because, you know, I look dreadful when I'm pale.” Elizabeth thought a minute. “I don’t know why powdered colliandum wouldn’t be an excellent thing. It is a soft dull pink, and it tends to deepen a little in a warm room. I should be inclined to try that. Of course, prolactum is the only thing for keeping your lips smooth »nd healthily red. You know that, of course." "One more problem," said the Bride. "Before I married, I used to put my hair in curlers. Now I leave it loose at night, because Jack likes to see it down, and of course I have to wave it with tongs nearly every day. I’m s° worried because all the colour s going— I actually found some grey hairs the other day. Shall I use henna or what to make it bright again?” "Henna, of course not/* said tho emphatic Elizabeth. "You don’t wa>nt to dye your hair at twenty-two—or at sixtytwo if you're sensible. You must get some tammalite at once —plain, ordinary tammelito —and make it up yourself with bay rum. That will soon bring back the lost colour. Do you shampoo with stallax? Oh, but you should! That makes your hair so silky and bright. Of course you must drop waving your hair with hot irons. It’s suicide for your hair—makes it dry up and fall out. "But, Elizabeth, my hair is quite, straight,” moaned tho Bride. "That’s all right," smiled Elizabeth, "all you want is silmerine. Just comb your hair down the way you want it to go, damp it a little with silmerine, put a slide or two in, and fluff your hair up on each side of tho slide. In the morning you will find a nice kink whore the slid© was. Your hair ought to look naturally wavy, not a series of hard furrows like a ploughed field. You won’t need to put tho slides in more than once or twice a week . . . you’ll find that your hair with a little patience and perseverance will develop a wave of its own, so that after your stallax shampoo, if you comb it before it is quite dry, the wave will return of its own accord. Two ounces of silmerine will last you for at least six months. , Besides, you will be superior to the coal shortage, for it is criminal waste of gas to use it to heat tongs. Enough of your looks [ Let’s pass to brighter subjects.” The Bride smiled. "Silmerino—sil- I merine—l won’t forget that. All right, I talk away, Elizabeth." 5