Then the hats.. We just about laughed ourselves sick over the hats. The dinner plates, the pillboxes, the Cossack styles, the turbans! Lame, jersey, any old material, diambndbedecked and ostrich-befluttered! Horrible hang-overs from the Directoire ball at the Palais Royal we called them, And the lace headdresses, too. All off the face, hanging to the waist in back, they seemed more impossible than mantillas. None could ever consider them seriously, we affirm:
The military capes with officers collars and shoulders looked like old stuff to us. We are a little fed up with the military influence, if you ask me, although there is an undeniable "appeal to a uniform. The most dashing commander, Jane dear, but I won't start in on him just now.
Then those funny, funny looking coats, with sleeves of fur and more of the same pasted on the woollen coat almost any old way. "No American girl outside a lunatic asylum will ever wear them," we agreed. How we howled over them. Why we hardly noticed the air raids at all.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.