IF I WERE A MAN I'D REVOLT.

Hutt News, Volume 3, Issue 5, 26 June 1930, Page 2

IF I WERE A MAN I'D REVOLT.

By Joan Kennedy. , He took off his coat in the coffeeshop and asked i;o be excused. He felt the heat—-«. little, poor man! The thermometer was well up in tie seventies. Beneath tlhe garment of heavy doth, whoso weight had been augmented 'by the tailor's padding, he wore a woollen thing men call a sweater. It is riglrtly named sometimes. This time it covered a waistcoat and was in turn covered iby that heavy coat he discarded for the moment. Goodness knows just how much there was beneath—a s-hirt, certainly, and I dare swear those" things called woollens, Five garments between his skin and the sunshine! It makes a woman feel hot to think of w-hat a man wi3l carry on his back in the way of clothing, not to mention th-e starchy misery aibout .his neck wfliich every doctor agrees is shortening his life. | Penguins. ' .'" dollars/ trousers, padded shouWers^ stiff-fronted s-Mrts, uniform hats, the penguin-like appearance of every Adam :i 'nevening attire—-women wondet! But they wonder most of all at the weight. 1 ; The truth of tho matter is that mian is a. mollycoddle. He lives iii feai; of catching coldj but women have discovered that the lighter and airier their ■clothing the fewer illnesses tteey have. i They cover then' legs with a.little artificial feilk: through wihieh- tshe vioflct rays can penetrate, expose '•.their arms and necks and w^lk untrammelled. And doctors praise' them. ~ ■: ■

A woman knows the tonic joy of colours and of .beautiful fabrics. Man condemns himself to drabness and heavy anatesrials. Y-pt once he wore lace riicffiles '■ 'tpMia-': coats, sweeping feathers on Ihis hats, silver buckles on his shoes, while his coats! were of gorgeous brocades and his breeches of velvet. Satorial tyranny holds him to-day—a conservative clinging to drabness.

If I were a man I would revolt. My wardrobe would be something at whieih. other men would wonder. I'd rebel against the h'uondrum> a"ll uon-a-pattery, stodgy suits, those monstrosities of misery found in the collar-box, the penguin like attire of black and white discomfort forced upon; men by convention when I accepted a dinner invitation, the cloth1 cylinders for my 'legs, and those things the hatter produces as a covering for a man's cranium. ..I'd be individual in my dress, as women .are. I/d lhave colour and comfort My waTdrobe shbudd. hold eyejoy and I'd never be gallant enough to be a foil fof my wife when I took her out. : .

T«hat matter of eveuitig diess, /for instance! I'd have knee 'breeches with handsome silk .stockings and buckled shoes. (It..ca.u't be that men have-no calves that they wetu1' trousers). My shirt s-hould boast no starch, but be of the finest -linen or lawn or silk, with decaration in the buttons. I'd have it cut so that my neck was free.

Its tailoring .^should be perfect and ' iinis'licil, its colour any that* took my fancy—though there would certainly bo one of rich cream with crystal buttons. When I wore this with ■black,., knee b'reoeihes there sliouM bo a colour nole in the cuniTncrbund. In such a rig-out I should enjoy the ballroom and be more agreeable to my aiiy-fahy partner. And" Ruffles. * ; Beneath I shoii'kl want nothing beyond a connbinatipn garment of fine material for the sumincr and something Ayitih a woollen, finiisii in the winter time. AccOrding to the time of year ■I'd.wear with this an elegant coat of' brocad'o or velvet or satin, and if I fancied ruffles I'd have them. My outdoor •• garment should, be a voluminous cloak and a hat with sweeping lines. I'd bo a very fine fellow — a devil with the ladies. And not. a ■w'OJuan would condemn nic—though wo-' men are often blamed to-day for man's discomforts. But wouM other men co.py?' Not tnoy! Man is the most conservative creature under the sun and over his clothes ;hc sliows no common-sense. You have only to stare nt him to produce agitation in his manly breast beneath its wrappings. .'Stare at a woman axid she prinks and preens, sure that you arc admiring her. A man knows t-here/s precious little to admire because he disguises his form .by uninteresting garments. Yet he loves colour. You have only to look a-t his braces, his bathrobe, or dressing-gown, his pyjamas and other private 'essentials of Ms wardrabe. If I were a man I'd have colourful clothes A woman .can work in them-^-so why not a man? Blouses an^ Breeches. I'd have no stud pressing into my backbono and my wind-pipe, but my shirts should be designed as some sports shirts are to-day. I'd so arrange matters that I could take off my . coat without looking undTesscd. A woman does.. Her blouse or jumper is tidy. I'd have a blouse shirt or a jumper which could see full daylight wJien heat waves ruled the land. ■ That .conventional crease in my trousers should never worry me. I should patronise sihorts and breeci.es. A man :k>oks far handsomer in them—in the eyes of a woman. I'd demand more variety in headgfear—and if I wanted a "macle'.' tie I'd wear one. But there! I am a woman and I can improve on the niggardliness of nature by buying loveliness. Man wild never,change from his draibriess unless ■woman starts a revolution for 'him. §he, ! could >best do that by starting with her ; small sons—-training them to colour ap- ! preciatiori, and by not dressing them to pattern. . '.. If the boy be father to the man. we migiht do something. I wonder!