A WOMAN'S MAN

Roused perhaps by "Oxford bags", a British lady whose native tact causes her to remain anonymous has recently undertaken the brobdingnagian task of reforming man's dress. She seems to have begun with the idea of how uncomfortable the poor dears must be in stiff collars, boiled shirts, dragging trousers, "kidney-exposing waistcoats", and everything else that makes the male a pleasing object, at least to himself; and ends with the suggestion that, discarding all such modifications of the strait-jacket, men attire themselves in gaudy jumper blouses, short fur coats, bright colored pajamas and shoes of vivid leathers. The desideratum suggests nothing so much as a musical comedy's presentation of a street scene in Russia.

Granted that the most uncomfortable and absurd costume in the world is evening dress, the men can still afford to retort: "Isn't that just like a woman?" This misguided Englishwoman proceeds on the absurd premise that people want to dress comfortably. If comfort were the prime object of top hats and stiff shirts, they would give place at once to loin cloths and beads. Ever since garments have risen to the dignity of clothes, they have been ornaments first, and conveniences second; and if they fail in their first function, modern men can console themselves with the reflection that men in general would be still homelier in a state of nature. Clothes, whether of starched linen or silk padded with bran are the masculine defense against exposure as a two-legged animal without feathers; and so long as one can keep the skeleton in a more or less endurable closet, innovations looking to the trifling detail of comfort will always meet with a cold reception.