Feminine Interests

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 721, 22 July 1929, Page 5

Feminine Interests

NEW LIFE FOR SATIN SHOES

A SIMPLE HOME-CLEANING PROCESS I was absolutely in despair about iny satin shoes. They had gone to the dance new and spotless. During the evening 1 did not pay any attention to them, but I had a shock when I looked at them next morning! From heel to toe they bore unmistakable , signs of a “night out,” and seemed incapable of renovation. I was due at another dance the following evening, and my frock demanded light satin slippers to accompany it. What was ! I to do? Of course, I must try to clean them. But how? That was the question. Petrol was my first idea, but I feared it might leave a stain. Besides, there is something a little too clinging about the perfume of both petrol and benzine ! My second thought was flour! Old lace is best cleaned with this useful household commodity. Why not try it on the shoes? I took the half of a perfectly clean old linen sheet. In this I put the shoes with a couple of handfuls of flour, | and shook them about in much the same way as I shake currants before j using them for a cake. Afterwards, • putting trees in the shoes, I rubbed , them very lightly with clean rags dipped in magnesia, which I got for cleaning purposes from a chemist. Lastly, with a soft new toothbrush, I brushed away all signs of powder. j That night I danced with a light heart, for my satin shoes were as new! And their renovation had cost me just a dip in the flour-bin, the use of a piece of old linen, which could be washed and made to do service again, and a little magnesia bought for a few’ pence at the chemist's. r t

For kitchens a popular paper is one that is washable and decorated with a tile design on a white ground. Another equally suitable for kitchens is also washable and is decorated with a pattern imitating Queen Anne chintz.

! GOOD DESIGNS ARE IMPORTANT

SUGGESTIONS FOR THE HOME NEEDLE-WOMAN How often we see a frock, into which excellent needlework has been put completely ruined through having been cut from an inferior pattern. How' often we come across a piece of embroider}', the result of hours of patient toil, which is totally ineffective because the design is weak and the colouring poor. There is now no excuse for this waste of effort, for certain designers are making it their business to provide the finest patterns on which to base the work. For example, one artistic woman sells sets of designs, taken from old Oriental rugs, as guides for amateur rug-makers. How much better than trusting to inspiration, or to inferior patterns which possess neither character nor distinction. Another woman provides designs for the petit-point handbags that are now' so fashionable. When you compare her drafts w'ith the more ordinary patterns, you realise what an infinite advance they represent. Similarly, there is an embroideress’ guild, which exists to supply its members with designs, largely of the “period” order, that are worth copying. An interesting set of designs can be culled from the Kate Greenaw r ay books, the .vogue for which is now returning. The illustrations lend themselves to copying by means of tracing paper and pencil, and some charming compositions for mats and cushion covers may readily be obtained in this way. I have also seen initials of great beauty taken from Chapter-headings drawn by Aubrey Beardsley, and used for marking linen.

MATRIMONIAL MUSINGS

FIFTY-FIFTY IDEALS By EVELYN VIVIAN There is any number of quite nice wives, dutiful and loyal and genuinely attached to the conjugal hearthstone, who suffer periodically from what one may call romantic unrest. It is a ! condition that may set in after a visit jto the theatre or the cinema. Or i during the reading of a novel or a love- ; poem. The quite nice little wife I identifies herself with the heroine of ] the story- or the sentimental ode, and ! sighs over the raptures that have [ passed her by. Her own humdrum husband has never appealed to the j inmost depths of her being in the heart-melting language of fiction or verse. And she encourages a mood that visualises the “not impossible he” who must remain for ever an unattainable ideal. She is so busy being awfully sorry for herself that it never occurs to her that there may also be moments when that seemingly humdrum husband of hers may be suffering similar pangs! When the stolid, shirt-sleeved gardendiggr, lawn-mower, pram-pusher and general household provider may likewise sigh for some lost unknown; some faery creature of moonlight and gossamer who has nothing in common with a flesh-and-blood woman associated with overalls, hashed mutton and and kitchen chores. It is part of our perfectly marvellous feminine egoism that we so often remain oblivious, in our matrimonial relationships, of the possibility of these fifty-fifty ideals. Wives seldom credit husbands—outside the realms of literature and poetry—with a yearningly romantic temperament. Their own sentimental illusions provide them with no magic key to unlock the secret door of a consort’s soul. It does not dawn on them that the same pathetic blindness which covers up their own physical and mental imperfections may assail their matter-of-fact life-partners. The quite nice but rather ordinary little wife who visualises herself as twinsister to a heartrendingly handicapped Cinderella remains naively unaware of the Prince Charming frustration-complex of her quite nice but rather ordinary life-partner. If they could exchange mutual soulsmiles over these recurrently romantic moods—these quite nice little wives and husbands who cherish their fiftyfifty ideals, —they would be spared a mort of secret heartburnings. The pity that is so fundamentally akin to love would reinstate Eros on the hearthstone throne, and the dailybread of a divine mutual tolerance would acquire the flavour of ambrosia. Shared illusions can lead to the shared | discovery of the real thing.