WHILE THE KETTLE BOILS

New Zealand Listener, Volume 3, Issue 60, 16 August 1940, Page 42

WHILE THE KETTLE BOILS

Dear Friends, Have just been gazing-and feeling most poetical-at a really gorgeous sunset, and reflecting what a masterpiece some designer would achieve if he could weave all those colours into one glamorous frock. The trouble is, with gay, lovely, haunting colours all about us, we are apt to take them for granted. Just imagine if the whole world and everything in it was carried out in a scheme of grey and black, what a dull, lifeless and depressing spectacle it would be. Colour is almost as necessary to us as eating or breathing. Though we may not realise it, colour actually controls our moods. An orange coloured light, for example, is bright and exhilarating. Blue is cold and depresses. Pink is warm and intimate. Red creates nervousness and excitement. Green gives one serenity and rest. The moral is that, in our dress especially, we should never take colour for granted. Some people are content, when they purchase a frock, to be guided by style and fit. Think very seriously about the colour. Firstly, does it suit you? Secondly, how do you respond to that particular colour? Does it give you a sense of uplift and harmony, or does it depress you? This is not just a theory, it is based on actual fact. Colours do sway our moods-and we should use them; and not let them use us. So many so-called "mousey-coloured" women shy away from bright colours. If they only realised it, they are debarring themselves from the one thing that will give them a new brightness and an added depth of personality. When anyone says a "gay dress," you think of colour that hits you in the eye. But

there is all the difference in the world between a gay dress and a dress that makes you look gay. When Claudette Colbert first went to Hollywood, she would wear only subdued, heavy colours. But being an openminded young woman, she agreed to experiment with light colours. One of her first evening frocks was of light blue chiffon-which she wore determinedly but with secret misgivings. She admitted after that the frock gave her a new vivacity, and she has kept up the mood ever since. A word to the wise, however, when choosing the colour of your frock. The texture of the material alters the quality of the colour and its effect on your complexion. Caliph purple, in wool, is a dark subtle colour, becoming to most women. Purple in velvet is dramatic-almost theatrical. Purple in satin is frankly showy, but purple in taffeta or faille can be as demure as a schoolgirl. Shiny materials in grey emphasise the figure. Grey is supposedly a middleage colour, but a frock of grey chiffon is smoky glamour personified. Grey worsted suggests capability and good works, and grey flannel is a young, flighty material. Actually the same shades in different materials create different effects. Blue is a trick colour by night. A sapphire blue will look bewitching in satin, but in georgette it becomes just muddy. Blue velvet assumes a deeper, more mysterious shade under lamplight. The reverse is true of cotton lace. Pastel blues are fresh and smart in wool materials, but wishy-washy in satin and jersey. (Continued on next page>

(Continued from previous page) Emerald green is harsh in silks, unless you have a perfect complexion and red hair to go with it. However, in a dull-faced material, such as wool jersey, it is easy to wear. Blot-paper pink is a success in cashmere or fine tweed, but would scare you off in brocade or crepe-de-chine. Opposed to this, scarlet serge is a knock-out blow to the eye, but scarlet lace in a ballroom can be alluring, particularly set against white shoulders and arms. Now that spring is on its way, you will have an opportunity of trying out some of these colour notions. A little serious reflection will bring you surprising and delightful results. Yours cordially,

Cynthia