COUPONS FOR CLOTHES

New Zealand Listener, Volume 5, Issue 115, 5 September 1941, Page 41

COUPONS FOR CLOTHES

It's Hard To Look Like Deanna Durbin on 66 a Year (From "The London Letter,’ by Macdonald Hastings, in a recent issue of "London Calling’"’)

2 2 EANNA DURBIN in a 3,000coupon Film," headlines my morning newspaper. In an- _ other column on the same page an expert on "Practical Wartime Living," discusses how to look smart on sixty-six clothes coupons a year. Within a doll’s dress length of the lovely Deanna’s picture in one of her most exciting new frocks, the proposition doesn’t sound very convincing. It isn’t. Henceforward, in this coupon-crazy world, a girl who wants to buy a summer outfit A la Durbin must forfeit seven coupons for the skirt, five coupons for the blouse or jumper, two coupons for the stockings, five coupons for the shoes, four coupons for one undergarment, and, if she wants to keep the rain out, fourteen coupons for a mackintosh or coat. That leaves twenty-seven coupons for the rest of the year. As most gitls ladder about forty-eight coupons-worth of stockings in an average year alone, the sum won't add up. But trust a woman to find the answer. The solution-admitted by the rationing re-gulations-is to subtract the difference from your husband’s coupon book. Those whom their wives leave with a new shirt to their backs will be the lucky ones.

"The best dressed man in the world" seems to view the shabby prospect with indifference. So much so that, before writing you this letter, I had to question six of my acquaintances before I found one among them sufficiently interested to remember how many coupons a year a man is allowed (the total is the same for both sexes). The reason is that the Englishman’s sartorial reputation is founded not on the quantity of his clothes but on their quality. Our suits take a lot of wearing out. The war will have to last a long time before we earn the reputation of being the worst-dressed men. When rationing started, the stenographers at the Bank of England actually had the temerity to suggest that they might be permitted to enter thé precincts with bare legs. The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street raised her eyebrows with horror. In no circumstances could such a revelation be ‘permitted in the Bank. "Safe as the Bank of England" is no sinecure. In an attempt to solve the stocking problem, many girls are painting their legs. Personally, I can’t tell the difference. And I can’t envisage a Bank of England official stroking his typist’s legs to make sure. So I'll lay anything

from a gold bar to a dud cheque on a pair of forged stockings against the chief cashier. Every theatrical showman faces a well-nigh insuperable problem. Almost as soon as clothes rationing was introduced, the impresario of one new West End revue had to call the cast together to announce that the show couldn’t opén because the Board of Trade absolutely refused to grant any coupons to dress it. "TI can patch-up some old frocks from previous shows," he said, "but I’m stumped for shoes." He asked the cast if they would agree to pool their coupons, The girls conferred, took a vote, refused. They made the reasonable plea: " Even if we're allowed to keep the shoes afterwards, we'll probably have danced the soles off." The only goods which aren’t rationed are hats, children’s (under four) clothes, boiler suits, all sorts of mending materials, and black-out cloth dyed black. Second-hand clothes are also unrationed. People have been nursing wild hopes that some seasonal article, iike playsuits and fragile. clothes, which people obviously won’t buy from the shops now, will be released for one glorious shopping day. But the hope seems to be ill-founded. The Board of Trade has started tough and it means to stay tough. , I must say that if I were President of the Board of Trade for a day, I should make one concession. I feel that a wattime bride is worthy of a trousseau.