The Delights of April

Have you heard, dears?

       April is here!

Do you like my new silk dress?

       The color is called Rosemary.

You know, for remembrance. 

       I'm remembering all the delights of April.

I'm craving asparagus and shad roe and strawberries.

       At the same meal at my favorite restaurant, please.

A proposal on the same night would be lovely.

       Or at least a clutch of Parma violets edged with paper lace. 

I may look like a modern woman of 1930, but at heart?

       At heart I'm just an old-fashioned girl.

And it is sweet sentimental April, after all.

       What are you craving this April?


[Picture is an ad for silk fabric from my March 29, 1930 Vogue magazine.]

I dreamed I wore a pink raincoat.

I dreamed I wore my new pink Paris raincoat for a walk to the pond with the dogs. I let the day's drizzle fall gently on my face as I gave thanks for being blessed with an English rose complexion.

The rain did not frizz my pale blonde hair. 

Storm clouds gathered but held off until I leisurely strolled around water's edge.

Eventually I walked back to the house, whistling for the dogs, my mind full of plans for writing the final chapter in my latest book, the aroma of a perfectly roasted hen, redolent of rosemary and lemon and garlic coming from the kitchen.

I knew that a chilled crystal bowl of creamy potato salad waited in the refrigerator and a bottle of Maison Veuve Clicquot was on ice in the silver champagne bucket.
  
A late lunch for two at a beautifully laid table was waiting only for RH to wash his hands after pruning the  English roses in the garden.

Into your baskets, BreeBree and James Mason! 

Hurry, before Mama wakes up!


[my raincoat-wearing alter ego from Harper's Bazaar, February 1936]
 

 

Fantasy Fashion for a Daughter

Daughters!

What are we going to do with them?

A 1934 fifteen-year-old thinks she knows everything there is to know about fashion.

Here is what I want my Anne to wear to the Valentine's Day Dance at school...

Don't you love that fuchsia-purple faille taffeta evening frock?

The pale pink sash is so sweet and I know that her father would approve of the ruching around the neckline.

Anne looked as if she were going to cry when she tried it on.

"Mother, you wouldn't! 

I look about twelve in it.

Even if a boy asked me to dance if I wore this,

no one would cut in on him, no one."

That dejected look on her face went away when she tried on the one she chose.

At least she had not chosen a black dress but even in pink she immediately assumed such a sophisticated pose and world-weary face.

Where did that hand on the hip stance come from?

Is this my little girl?

Is she really old enough to wear slipper satin?

With that low décolletage?

Will she next think she is old enough to go to nightclubs?

And the most important question of all--

What will her father say?

[Gowns from Vogue magazine, Advance Retail Trade Edition, November 1934]