A Look at the Skirt (the 'Jonella')

Among the topics of 'The Woman's Voice' are those that whet the mind, and among them... those that steal a glance at shortness and length — as paths of pleasure and amusement we publish them in this article, now that the struggle of yesterday and tomorrow in fashion has spread among the newspapers, the stars, and the artists. It is by way of 'light reading,' and by way of it alone, that we let humor loose upon ourselves — and how we shall enjoy the laughter when, as of this month, skirts stand 36 centimeters off the ground.

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How much ink the warring of the tailors has spilled, and how much paper it has blackened! One stroke of Monsieur Christian Dior's scissors splits the eternal female's skirt into a fair share and a superfluous share, then splits the tailors of the world themselves into partisans and opponents. And I do not think there is one among us who has forgotten the day, four years ago, when she let down the hem of her dress in obedience to Dior's orders; yet this 'New Look' soon saw its flame gutter within the compass of a single season, the wearer of the long dress pleading that she gained nothing by it and profited nothing from it. She no sooner puts it on than there come racing into her imagination her first grandmother, stumbling over the trains of skirts and flounces, or jolting on the wooden benches of horse-drawn carriages as long as daylight lasted — yes, it is incompatible with the demands of living in this age, and the daughter of Eve relishes only what earns her modernity... and in that magic word her aims and ambitions are summed up, so long as they last.

The short dress — fundamentally — confers modernity. But what of women, from tall to short, from stout to slender, when they all robe themselves in this short skirt without condition or restriction? What a pity...

Sights ranging between two thick calves suddenly unveiled, or two bowed legs their owner flaunts, or two short thighs on open display — laughter rises in the street at her who fancied herself young in this distasteful absurdity — and the fine costume remains only for the woman of true elegance. Her we invite to vary between long and short; yet, being of a figure without flaw, she keeps her clothes to a moderate measure, the emblem of her sound taste and her upright charm.

Men and Their Fashions

Suppose the tailors of London proposed to men a fundamental change of dress with every passing season — I say the tailors of London, for no one is ignorant that London is the mother of fashion for men: their finest entrust her with their dressing, ambassadors and notables, even the notables of Paris and the bearers of diplomatic portfolios and the polished dandies. There is no doubt they would rebel against the proposal of their fashion capital; just as many of them, after the war, when want had spread through every class, confined themselves to looking to London merely as the source of dress and elegance.

Accordingly, can anyone imagine English tailoring imposing on its customers now short trousers and now long? Man — having cast off the picture of the lace coat, the knee breeches, and the white stocking after the manner of the kings of Versailles — is doubtless modern in his inclination to simplicity and ease, unconcerned with renewing his appearance; he made his choice once for all, save in a shade of color or a touch of weave.

Woman, Ever-Changing

Why does woman submit in slavish obedience to dress and fashion? Why the blind submission to the tailors' decrees — those lords with the power to prescribe them? Where is she among women who would raise even the least objection to their rulings, whatever those rulings might be?

Let us sum it up in one phrase: woman seeks, before everything and above everything, admiration. Her natural aim is to awaken man's interest in her and to keep it, and for the shot to hit the mark she must renew herself, change, evolve. Her instinct warns her against remaining in one unchanging form before a husband, a suitor, or a lover who watches her fade day by day in a monotonous dress. This is precisely what a man feels as novelty in the unknown woman, even if she is a mere chance encounter on the road: she suggests to him, beyond doubt, 'something else.'

Then woman's fashion takes flight into the spaces of imagination and roams the deserts of inspiration, and alights wherever its tenacious masters will. Feudal lords they are, formerly centered in Paris alone, who today have extended their sway to Rome and New York; they have harnessed the female's insistent demand with skill and cunning — until it has been said that there is no disputing fashion. Enthroned over the entire world, she is Eve's partner and the ally of the great seduction to which all Eve's daughters submit, whether unwitting or knowing.

Woman... Can She Change?

Some moderns claim that if woman were destined to occupy the place befitting her in society, she would forgo much of this courting-by-dress before man, becoming independent of him in supporting herself, in ordering her life,

and in freedom of conduct. But however that may be, I can only think the makers of these claims have misunderstood the truth of the matter.

Did nature not make the two sexes inseparable companions, each playing a fixed and particular part? Man represents strength, and woman radiates charm — tamer and softener of that strength — subduing it whenever her arrow pierces the 'heel of Achilles.' And alas, what a lion-hearted hero man would be were it not for the secret of that weak point which masters him and directs him!

And were it not for nature's decrees in love, for the survival of the species, woman would never have turned toward man, whether free or enslaved. She is in perpetual pursuit, aided by every kind of device; and has the appetite for conquest ever been absent in woman?

We return to where we began. Her care is her beauty. Her seduction. Her captivating of hearts. And fashions stand waiting for her — they are the weapon of the struggle — they are woman's genie.

Ever the Abyss of Extremes

An entire world — we see the whole of it devoted to her support: the tailor draws the designs, the hatmaker exercises his art in lengthening or rounding the face, the hairdresser attains the highest degrees of beautification. The shoe-seller's care is the adornment of the foot. 'Lingerie' speaks of nothing but luxury and extravagance. Jewels move at a rapid pace, and gloves and handbags likewise. And what shall we say of stockings, and of the heights of glory they have reached? As for the manufacture of fabrics, it rises, and no industry rises above it. It is passionate for renewal and eager for invention.

It is told of a silk merchant, one of the great traders of Lyon in the days of the First Empire, that he invented a kind of velvet cloth, with curled pile, saffron-yellow, and displayed it before the choicest of the elegant, reckoning that his novelty would meet with unequaled success — but only the opposite of his expectation came about. No sooner did the women set eyes on that strange merchandise than their faces turned from it, and they left him prey to every sort of despair and loss. Then it occurred to him to search the tower of his horoscope and seek out the leading actress of the theater of Molière, that his cloth might find favor with her. Before long he presented himself at her private dressing room, hoping she would cut herself a gown from the curled yellow velvet.

— 'But, my good man, I shall look canary-yellow in this toilette. It is impossible for me to wear your cloth before the public.'

— 'No, Mademoiselle Mars — not like a canary, but like a gleaming chrysolite and a sparkling emerald. Were you not the diamond of the Comédie-Française?'

And no sooner had she donned the yellow velvet, with Paris in her two hands from the boards of the stage, than the crowds surged and stirred, and the unsalable velvet met with all the vogue and demand one could wish.

In sum, Christian Dior's short dress, now passing through a crisis of strife and dissension, will secure for itself a final victory. And among us the first signs of support for the new fashion have already appeared.

Long live fashion!

(Adapted from the French)