WAR MARCH OF THE MANNEQUINS.

Hokitika Guardian, 10 December 1917, Page 4

WAR MARCH OF THE MANNEQUINS.

(From Lady Sarah Wilson, to the Editor 1 of the Daily Mail.) GO. Giskat Cu.m iikklan n- place, W. Sept 16 Sir, — Recent chilly mornings prompted me to visit a well-known dressmaking firm, w'itli a view to ordering a winter dress. I arrived by Tube at this establishment, which is situated on the fringe of the West End, and I was somewhat surprised to see, lining an ad jacent street, a string of certainly over a dozen private motor-cars of varying sizes, from the large limousine to the modest two-seater, and my surprise was increased when a polite young man at the inner door asked me if 1 had brought my “admission card.” Not understanding w r hat he meant, I gave my name and was allowed to pass in.

Then, to complete my amazement, I saw many serried linos of ladies closely packed to-gether. They were seated all round the spacious “ salons,” both on the ground floor and in an upper gallery. A charming damsel approached and most kindly offered to give me the first seat that should be vacant, “as the parade will last another hour or so.”

I confess I somewhat crossly replied that I had neither the time nor the inclination to attend this sort of “ matinee ” and that I merely wished to see a saleswoman. She was manifestly hurt at my flunking that any business could be done on such an auspicious occasion as “ the second day of our show of m ; odels,” and at j that moment a procession of gor- j geously attired aud exceedingly j pretty girls c mmenced to descend I the wide staircase and make the tour of the rooms, with that peculiar ; mincing gait which these young ladies j adopt. ' I was dazzled and fascinated by theii various costumes, suited for every occasion ; rich embroideries, gleaming satins, soft velvets, delightful furs were wafted by in quick succession, amid an appreciative hum of remarks. All wer'e in perfect taste, but I ielt inclined to rub my eyes and wonder if we were not back in the old happy days before the Huns had disturbed the even tenor of our way, and before misery and desolation were stalking through the world. As it was clearly impossible to claim anybody’s attention I made my escape, and on re-entering the friendly Tube station I saw scrawled on the newsvendor’s blackboard: “ National vService for All.”