Extravagant taste in dress is infectious. Most of us are impressed by the King’s sensible and earnest desire that the Press should use its influence for good in fostering amity between ourselves and foreign countries. If the Press would equally use its efforts to discourage florid descriptions of dress in their columns, much of the wild and wilful extravagance which is frequently the ruin of otherwise happy homes, might be avoided. When Lady A sees her loathëd rival Lady B’s dress described in half a column of newspaper “gush” she straightway yearns and schemes for a whole column of the same kind. When simple country girls read the amazing items of the “toilettes” worn by some notorious “demi-mondaine,” they begin to wonder how it is she has such things, and to speculate as to whether they will ever be able to obtain similar glorified apparel for themselves. And so the evil grows, till by and by it becomes a pernicious disease, and women look superciliously at one another, not for what they are, but merely to estimate the quality and style of what they put on their backs. Virtue goes to the wall if it does not wear a fashionable frock. Vice is welcomed everywhere if it is clothed in a Paris “creation.” Nevertheless, Ben Jonson’s lines still hold good: Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast; Still to be powder’d, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art’s hid causes are not found All is not sweet, all is not sound. “All is not sweet, all is not sound,” when women think little or nothing of ordering extravagant costumes which they well know they will never be able to pay for, unless through some dishonourable means, such as gambling at Bridge for example. Madame Modiste is quite prepared for such an exigency, for she does not forget to show “creations” in clothes which, she softly purrs, are “suitable for Bridge parties.” They may possibly be called--“The Tricky Trump”--or “The Dazzling of a Glance too long” or “The Deft Impress of a Finger nail”! One never knows! Any amount of fashion papers find their way into the average British household, containing rabid nonsense such as the following: “There were wonderful stories afloat about Miss B’s dresses. Rumour has it that a dressmaker came over specially from New York to requisition the services of the most important artistes in Paris, and gold lace and hand embroidery were used with no frugal hand; yet, _despite this_ and the warm welcome accorded her by an English audience, Miss B does not seem to have made up her mind to stay with us long, for it is said the end of June will see the end of her season. We have sketched her in her pink chiffon wrap, which is made in the Empire shape covered with chiffon and decorated with bunches of chiffon flowers and green leaves held with bows of pink satin--a most dainty affair, full of delicate detail and pre-eminently becoming.”