The whole tenue in moving, of the girls, is "fling about," even in the
street, but no other nation can compare to them in their exquisitely
spruce, exquisitely soigne appearance, and their perfect feet and
superlatively perfect boots, and short tailor dresses. To see Fifth
Avenue on a bright day, morning or afternoon, is like a procession of
glowing flowers passing. Minxes of fifteen with merry roving eyes,
women of all ages, _all_ as beautifully dressed as it is possible to be,
swinging along to the soda-water fountain shops where you can get candy
and ice cream and lovely chocolates. No one has that draggled, too long
in the back and too short in the front look, of lots of English women
holding up their garments in a frightful fashion. Here they are too
sensible; they have perfect short skirts for walking, and look too
dainty and attractive for words. Also there are no old people much--a
few old women but never any old men. I suppose they all die off with
their hard life.
But isn't human nature funny, Mamma, and how male creatures' instincts
will break out sometimes even in a country like this, where sex does
not "amount to much." We are told that now and then the most
respectable father of a family will "side track," and go off on a jaunt
with a glaringly golden-haired chorus lady! But one thing is better
than with us, the eldest sons don't defy fate and marry them! When he
gets to fifteen I shall begin to have nightmares in case Hurstbridge
should bring me home a Gaiety daughter-in-law, though probably by then
there will be such numbers of Birdie and Tottie and Rosie Peeresses,
that I shall have got used to it, unless, of course, the fashion
changes and goes back to the time Uncle Geoffrey talks of, when those
ladies found their own world more amusing.
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