a'HE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
»» 
Transformation Garnitures. 
The woman who always aspires to ap¬ 
pear well-dressed, cannot have too many 
accessories, as the latter will conceal the 
deficiencies of an old frock and give it 
the stamp of a smart up-to-date garment. 
Personally .1 long ago decided that the 
1. Chemisette guimpe of net, edged with Irish laee at 
tlie top. The lace collar is fastened to the waist. 
best-dressed woman is not the one who 
possesses many gowns, but rather she 
who has one gown or so with numerous 
accessories to change its appearance for 
different occasions. This secret I learned 
from the most stylish woman I have ever 
known. 
Although an American, “Mademoiselle” 
has lived in Paris for many years, mak¬ 
ing fashion drawings for one of New 
York’s big papers. On her first trip 
home we all thought her recklessly ex¬ 
travagant. for apparently she wore a 
different frock at every appearance. But 
she really did nothing of the sort, for as 
a matter of fact, she had but one good 
black tailored broadcloth suit, with a 
smart cut-away coat, and a limner gown 
or two, as I discovered when I was-given 
a peep at her steamer t- auk. To my 
amazement 1 saw nothing but accessories, 
pile upon pile, all of which I learned in 
due time had been fashioned by the deft 
fingers of Mademoiselle herself from bits 
of left-over laces and lingerie. It was 
a revelation to us really extravagant ones. 
There were transformation tunics or 
over-dresses—a black silk one cut lo:.g on 
one side and short on the other, with 
two full frilly ruffles, one on the edge, 
and one set above it on the tunic itself, 
which had a crisp black silk blouse fin¬ 
ished with a wide green silk sash and a 
butterfly bow in the back, with cuffs of 
the green also; there was a black and 
mauve plaid transformation, a separate 
affair also, cut on the bias straight all 
round the bottom, box plaited and with 
an upstanding frill; then there was the 
smartest straight gathered tunic of black 
satin, the bottom wired in order to give 
it a little flare, and edged with skunk fur 
banding. With the latter was worn the 
most fascinating little black satin bolero 
imaginable, edged with skunk banding 
also. It was sleeveless and was worn 
over a white net guimpe, edged with 
frilly net ruffles. Last, but not least 
among the tunics, there was a black lace 
one made from an old-fashioned Spanish 
scarf bequeathed to her by Great-aunt 
Mehitabel. It was not even necessary to 
cut the lace, for it was cleverly draped, 
so it hung straight in the front and back, 
with long points at the sides. A touch 
of black Spanish lace on a low cut crepe 
de chine blouse, gave her a handsome 
dinner gown. 
While on the subject of tunics and 
overdress arrangements, I wish to em¬ 
phasize the value of this particular ac¬ 
cessory as an aid to bringing last year’s 
gown up-to-date. While it may not be 
becoming to the very stout woman, the 
slender one will welcome it as a most 
convenient and attractive accessory. Pli¬ 
able wire and a featherbone cord that 
comes especially for the purpose, and 
which are sold at the notion counters in 
all department stores, will be found use¬ 
ful in giving the not too extreme lamp¬ 
shade flare now considered fashionable. 
An old silk gown that has seem its best 
days and which has too little good mate¬ 
rial left to remodel it, may be utilized 
for such a transformation. Patterns for 
the latter may be ordered through "me 
Rural New-Yorker’s regular pattern 
service. No. S0S7, shown on page 18, 
is particularly well adapted for the pur¬ 
pose, as this one pattern will serve for 
numerous variations of the tunic idea. 
Even the most conservative woman 
must admit that she is delighted over the 
fashion which calls for an unconfined 
neck dressing in lieu of the former high- 
necked style. No one stops to consider 
whether the neck itself is thin or plump 
nowadays, as there is really but one style 
of neck garniture—the low with its many 
changes. The nearest approach to the 
high style is the net guimpe with its high 
collar, which is preferred by many women 
for street wear; for even though the net 
is transparent, there is a feeling that the 
neck is not so much exposed to the gaze 
of the public. This accessory must be as 
faultlessly fitted as a blouse, however, 
and have a high, snug collar edged with 
narrow Irish beading to give the correct 
finish. Any woman can easily make these 
guimpes (of which there should be a 
goodly supply for the sake of an immacu¬ 
late appearance) cutting over an ordin¬ 
ary blouse pattern, hemming at the waist¬ 
line and running elastic through the hem. 
The superiority of the elastic over the 
old-fashioned method, is apparent. The 
guimpe is held in place with never a 
wrinkle across the chest, as all good 
guimpes should be, and yet without the 
danger of pulling it out at the waist-line, 
the first time it is worn. Some women 
who do not care for the high-necked 
guimpe under any circumstances, omit 
the collar, and after the guimpe is fitted 
add as a finishing touch a smart up¬ 
standing fx'ill of plaited net. When worn 
under the blouse only the front of the 
guimpe is permitted to show with its 
frill falling gracefully over the edge of 
the waist. In other words, it was former¬ 
ly the custom to trim the blouse with net 
yokes, cuffs, etcetera. When new and 
fresh, the waist was certainly a joy, but 
the moment it began to soil and look 
dingy, the wearer appeared dowdy. To 
attempt to cleanse the lace usually played 
havoc with it unless it was entirely re¬ 
moved. This meant “making over.” 
That is one reason why there is such a 
vogue for the separate heck garniture. 
There is romance and history in the 
present-day accessory, particularly neck 
garniture. We may select neck fixings 
such as were worn by one or several of 
our favorite heroines in historical fiction, 
and have the serene satisfaction of being 
in the mode as well as reviving the mem¬ 
ory of such personages as Marie An¬ 
toinette, Mary Stuart, Catherine de Me¬ 
dici, Charlotte Corday, Queen Elizabeth 
and others of the gallery of women of a 
past age. The rage for the dainty ruff, 
upstanding frills, fichus and surplices is 
due, no doubt, to the vogue of the semi- 
diaphanous blouse, and the fashion of the 
decollete neck for day as well as evening 
wear. 
The fashionable need is forecast in the 
sleeveless bolero mentioned in the fore¬ 
going, in the Eton jacket, the sleeve- 
finished waistcoat guimpes, and the Tux¬ 
edo outline of the smart frocks that re¬ 
quire the soft “filling” offered by the 
chemisette-fichus such as are pictured. 
Many of the very newest gowns are so 
made that the wide deep front is left 
without any trimming in order to give an 
opportunity for these transformation 
vestees and chemisette-fichus, according 
to the personal taste and inclination of 
the wearer. 
The lightly wired upstanding frill of 
lace, a la Medici, is the newest type of 
neck garniture. The back of the collar 
is wired, high and straight around, grad¬ 
ually sloping down toward the front 
where the throat is left bare above the 
crossed folds of fine net. A black vel¬ 
vet band is worn around the neck with 
this style of neck garniture, by the 
woman who would appear individual. In¬ 
deed, there is a quaint reminiscence of 
the old “Books of Beauty” and “Keep¬ 
sakes,” in the new neckbands of nar¬ 
row velvet, with their prim back bow 
fastening, or with their side closing un¬ 
der clusters of silken or satin ribbon rose¬ 
bud or forget-me-nots. There is some¬ 
thing about them even more essentially 
feminine than can be claimed for any 
circlet of jewels. Little jewelled slides 
and buckles such as our grandmas used, 
may be utilized, hut they are more ap¬ 
propriate for older women than the flow¬ 
er closing. One caution should be ob¬ 
served. A little scrap of the velvet 
should be tested and the wearer assured 
that it will not soil or “crock” the fair 
skin against which it clings. This is 
especially necessary where one perspires 
easily, as the moisture may cause a dark 
line, staining the neck under the access¬ 
ory, and leaving an unsightly rim. 
A simple chemisette fichu is pictured 
in No. 1. It is made of fine net, gath¬ 
ered across the top and bottom—the top 
finished with Irish lace. A frill of plaited 
lace is secured loosely to the blouse, so 
it may be removed easily for cleansing 
or renewing. Two yards of lace for 
plaiting, or one yard of plaited lace are 
required for this neck garniture. For 
the chemisette, one half yard of net will 
be sufficient for three or four guimpes. 
Another form of chemisette guimpe is 
pictured in No. 2. These may appear 
flat and uninteresting off the figure, but 
they are smart and modish when worn 
as on the figure in No. 1. One of these 
is made of flowered net—the latter white 
with a rosebud pattern, and edged with 
old rose satin binding and buttons. This 
gives the waistcoat effect, over the chem¬ 
isette of plain white net, finished with 
a net ruffle inset with net beading. The 
other chemisette, with shirt-bosom plait¬ 
ing has a black satin vest effect. A sin¬ 
gle baroque pearl button simulates a 
closing. The chemisette is of lace fulled 
in place. The net frill may be worn 
very high, if desired. These chemisettes 
may be varied to suit individual taste 
and requirements—incidentally to con¬ 
form to the contents of the ever-resource- 
ful scrap bag. 
What “rag-bag” cannot yield enough 
left-over material to at least furnish a 
portion of the net, lace or satin bindings 
for such accessories? Even the smart 
little bow tie shown at the bottom of il¬ 
lustration No. ”> is made from left over 
bits. A coarse mesh white linen, a knot 
of blue velvet, and a little handiwork 
made the tie a beautiful possession. The 
tab ends were pointed and buttonholed 
with blue embroidery silk. The rose is 
pink a la Pompadour, which is nothing 
but simple stiteliery, commencing in the 
center and working toward you, with 
three shades of mercerized cotton. The 
January 17, 
leaves and buds are in lazy-daisy stitch. 
Aside from the hour’s time to mbroider 
and buttonhole stitch the ends, the tie 
cost nothing. 
The net fichu is made of a rather open- 
meshed net, so the buttonholed edges would 
not fray out before they were worked. 
Only cut one scallop at a time, in or¬ 
der to obviate this. Work with white 
mercerized floss. The dots are in satin 
stitch—over and over, filling the small 
circle. The floral design is worked in 
satin stitch also. This fichu is seamed 
on the shoulder in order to make it lit— 
French-seamed to insure a neat finish, of 
course. There is a shallow sailor collar 
effect in the back. A single frill of 
bought plaited net finishes the fichu 
proper. A double upstanding frill high 
in the back and sloping toward the front 
finishes the throat dressing. One of the 
daintiest fichus imaginable may be made 
exactly as pictured, buttonholing with 
pink mercerized floss, and embroidering 
tiny Pompadour roses and leaves in pink 
and green, the same as on the tie. 
Little waistcoats of brocaded silk and 
satin are now classed among the indis¬ 
pensable fixings of the up-to-date ward¬ 
robe. They are worn with little wrinkles 
or creases across the waist, very like 
the masculine garment, to accentuate 
the lines of the uncorseted figure. 
LOUISE E. DEW. 
A Song in Exile. 
O they that leave their father’s land, new 
friends and homes to find them, 
They turn their faces to the sea, but 
leave their hearts behind them. 
Their hearts lie buried in the fields, along 
the blackthorn hedges, 
Beside the brooks where rushes cool 
crowd close about the edges, 
They’re rooted in the holy soil, the green 
soil, of the sireland, 
Who turn their faces to the West must 
leave their hearts in Ireland. 
The West is wide and rich and free, a 
grand land—but a cold land. 
I hunger for the warmth of love that’s 
found but in the old land, 
I hunger for the linnet’s song across the 
sunlit spaces. 
I want the sights and sounds of home, 
the dear familiar faces, 
At twilight how the heart stirs—when the 
angelus is calling. 
And on the misty Irish fields the silver 
dew is falling! 
Asthore maehree! The sea’s between, and 
foreign skies are o’er me, 
But in the night I feel my heart throb 
in the land that bore me. 
I feel it beating strong beneath the sham¬ 
rocks and the mosses, 
It clings about my people’s bones beneath 
the Irish crosses, 
It calls and calls across the sea, to come 
home to the sireland, 
The haunted hills, the singing winds, the 
smiling skies of Ireland. 
—Marie Conway Oemler, in the Outlook. 
Let us with caution jndulge in the 
supposition that morality can be main¬ 
tained without religion * * * Reason and 
3. Net flclm edged with net frill, and embroidered 
with white or colored mercerized floss. Bow tie 
at the bottom made of a scrap oi linen, embroidered 
with pink Pompadour roses. Knot of blue velvet. 
experience doth forbid us to expect that 
National morality can prevail in exclu¬ 
sion of religious principles.—Washington’s 
Farewell Address. 
