Mundane Musings

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 572, 26 January 1929, Page 23

Mundane Musings

A Colour Problem "You know," said Linda, “the clothes problem must have been much easier in the old days when there were comparatively few colours, and when such as existed were of the primary order, blues, reds and yellows, with an oc- ; casional and rather daring introduction of the secondary ones, purples, . greens and oranges. “I suppose the presoat-day prevalence of such colours as mushroom, hois de rose and all that wide range i of half-tones comprehensively termed i beige must be somehow a part of the | complication of modern life generally, 1 and sometimes rightly attributed to the war. “There is no doubt that since the war colours have sprung into existence that Titian and Alma Tadema never j dreamt of. There was no beige before 1914. Bois de rose and mushroom are as much post-war outcroppings as syncopated music and mani tiers. j "The present craze for naming - colours after the animal, vegetable I and mineral kingdoms, as instanced by ] elephant grey, cocoa and gunmetal, ! will have to stop somewhere, or civilisation will end where it begau, in ! chaos. We shall be going about in s camel’s hump coats trimmed with coui trasting shades of hyena’s laugh and j bison’s bellow, and rock-melon jumpers ' with yam stitching, and hematite | stockings with corrugated iron clocks, i “I find, however, that to couuteri balance (I suppose) the sartorial laxity I made possible by this multiplication of I new colours since the war there is a far stricter insistence on colour | schemes in dress, and the harmonisa- | tion of indoor with outdoor garments, ! than there was before. 4 * 4 ' j “I seem to remember that once it was no crime against fashion to wear ; a navy blue coat for all, or most, occasions, and that black was the prevailing colour of ‘dress’ shoes, patent or glace. Now, since that rather brilj liant organisation known as the threepiece garment arose, a greater collabj oration between dress, coat, hat, shoes | and stockings is insisted upon, j "Whether this stricter unity be- ; tween departments, this greater rigour of staff-work, is one result of lessons | learnt in conflict, 1 do not know. But : i do know that, while the woman of | means is now permitted a more charm- ; ing appearance than she has ever had j since the crinoline died out, the woj man of moderate income, like myself, is confronted with a new problem—the problem of colour—to add to the other difficulties of life. "Take my new verdigris coat-frock. Yes, I know that you are about to say you would rather not take my new verdi'gris coat-frock, but we will accept that piece of banality as read. I bought that verdigris coat-frock rather impulsively because its shape, its air of slight hauteur, aud its general psychology appealed to me, and without thinking of the problems it would raise f regarding the rest of my wardrobe. "It was when I put on my turbot’sI fin coat with the kiwi collar over the verdigris dress that I realised what I | had done. Oil will no more mix with water than turbot’s-fin with verdigris. | I had to go out at once and buy a verdigris coat to go with the frock, which i was both expensive and, in view of the perfectly good condition of my j turbot’s-fin, unnecessary. “On the way home it occurred to me that 1 had not yet made my seasonal change of hat. As you know, it is my habit to cast my hat like a snake at : certain changes of the year. No, of j course, I know snakes don’t wear hats, j You needn’t keep spoiling my best metaphors with unimaginative interruptions. I thought 1 might as well j get a verdigris hat. as well to complete | the colour-scheme. So I did. ! “Clothed in my verdigris frock, coat ! and hat, I felt that I could now face ! even a hostile bank manager with that j sangfroid that is evoked by the perfeet toilette. It was when I put on my I golf skirt next day for the autumn j meeting that I knew there was more ! trouble. * * * "My golf skirt is of rump-steak brown, and if there is one colour that goes worse with verdigris than tur-bot's-fin it is rump-steak brown. J ; should either have to buy a verdigris golf skirt or a rump-steak hat. Unable i ;to face the agony of goosing two ' hats on two consecutive days, I dej cided on the former alternative. "My appearance at the golf club completely encased in verdigris caused considerable comment, some of it complimentary and some merely spiteful. But when I came to put on my golf cardigan I realised that I had not yet i surmounted my colour problem. For my golf cardingan was of rump-steak wool to go with the old skirt, a fact 1 had quite forgotten. “I had to wear it, for there was a cold wind blowing that day. lam perfectly certain it was my low mental , state produced by the result that caused me to return with a score that j shall not be mentioned here. * * * “I rushed out next morning and bought a verdigris cardigan to go with rhe new skirt, and verdigris stockings to go w'ith the cardigan, and won the bogey competition in the afternoon in consequence. “I came home in that carefree, light-hearted state that goes only with a clear conscience, a sense of trials overcome, or a reduced handicap. And 1 found on the front door mat a letter from Pippa Collins asking me to sell programmes for her at a local charity affair. It was just the last straw. How on earth can I sell programmes at a charity matinee when I have simply nothing to wear?” “Nothing to wear, Linda?” I echoed in surprise. "But what about the complete verdigris outfit? It seems to me just the thing.” “You don’t understand.” said Linda. “Pippa Collins says we are to wear rosettes of flamingo pink. . . .”