“It is easier to explain how, than why,” I continued. “In the first place when women’s dress did not weigh more than two to three pounds, we were staggering about in clothes that weighed five to six times as much. We wore heavy stiff hats, like inverted kettles and almost as heavy, that shut out all air from our heads. We wore collars as rigid as boards about our necks that strangled our throats in a way no human being would have treated a dog, and at night we placed another rigid white board over our chests and for some mysterious reason exposed it proudly to the public view. But worst of all, while we encouraged our women to display themselves in bright colors, exquisitely blended and designed, we confined ourselves to browns and greys and went into mourning each night.” “And yet in the past--you had Rome and Athens! Even in the middle ages, you men in your dress rivalled the male plumage in nature. How could such an absurdity happen then? And why did you endure it so long without a revolt?” I shook my head. “It has been described as a product of democracy.” “Yet the women were never affected, Bogardus.” “Perhaps,” said Acquilla maliciously, “it may have been that women never really accepted democracy.” “I make no defence,” I said shrugging my shoulders again. “I have suffered too much.” “Wouldn’t it be fair to say, Bogardus,” said Acquilla slyly, “that this is another proof that men were traditional and women the pioneers of the imagination?” As I felt myself cornered again, I evaded the answer by saying: “Yet the curious thing, Dulcina, is that the great designers of the fashions were always men.” “It is so today.” “Really?” “Certainly. In certain things, Bogardus, we freely admit that the talents of men have remained supreme.” There was some objection to this, but Dulcina persisted, “Who are the great chefs today? Men. Who sets the fashions? The men of Paris. Who are the great producers of masques and spectacles? Men. And of course, when you come to the great composers and painters--” “How about mathematics? In my day, though women distinguished themselves in every other field--higher mathematics was a closed door.” “Yes,” Acquilla admitted grudgingly. “In that one branch of science we admit the natural talent of the male mind. When you go to the Astrodrome you will see how we use it. But after all it is a deductive quality, rather than a creative one.” “It produced an Einstein,” I said warmly. “By the way, in your stupefying progress, have you succeeded in understanding the Einstein theories?”