BATHING IN SOUTHERN FRANCE.

Evening Star, Volume VIII, Issue 2148, 25 March 1870, Page 2

BATHING IN SOUTHERN FRANCE.

(From London Society ,) Thene are two styles of bathing at Port* Vendrcs—the fancy-costume style and the old-clothes style. The choice is left to your private taste ; only a costume there must be. With that duly donned, you at liberty to converse as freely (after previous acceptance as a travelling acquaintance) at and in the marine promenade, as at and in the hospitable hotel—but with all respect and decorum, be it strictly understood. There may be a little brotherly and sisterly fun at the very most—no more. A favorite young lady’s costume —high up to the neck, and more decent than many “ low tops” at balls—is something like that of Ffa Diavolo, only the conical hat of straw is without a feather, naked arms and legs, with sandalled shoon which do not quite conceal a well-turned calf. Buttons in quantity are much the rage, The old-clothes is founded on the principle that when things are not good enough to walk the streets in, they are. quite good enough to walk the sea in. Moliere’s miser says to his domestic, “ If you serve me faithfully and well, I will give you this old coat—when I have worn it a little longer,” A penurious dame here might promise her maid, “If you continue honest and true, I will give you this dress, after I have bathed in it a few more times.” Such bathers, male and female, when they retire to their cabins to undress and redress, look, with the exception of an inconsistent placidity of countenance, like unfortunates' rescued from a watery grave. A lady, young and good-looking, in mourning, retains the hue of sorrow, even ip her bath. She has evidently cut short a pair of her husband’s black pantaloons; the vest Is some ruined, sable, female gaiment whose scientific name escapes my memory.; head-dress, an oilskin cap, surmounted by a battered and wiaped bonnet. The pretty feet are thrust into worn-out black-cloth boots, left unbuttoned, to finish tho negligee. I feel inclined to ask, impertinently, why Madame does not also wear a holey pair of black-kid gloves to swim in; but she is really so amiable that I cannot. We will take a gentleman fellow-bather, from the top downwards, Smart si raw hat (never wetted), with bright h'ue ribbon; spectacles (Monsieur is young); b'ue blouse, not much the worse for wear; bright chestnut trousers; real grey linen boots, with black tips at the toes. The trousers prevent our ascertaining whether silk stockings are worn or not. So attired, Monsieur walks into the water as he would walk down Fop’s Alley at tho Opera, procecds to a horizontal bar, lays hold of it, leans back, shows the tips of his boots above the surface, and calls that bathing |