They’ll never lie down and admit defeat. We think we’ve killed them off—but back they come. The eternal resurrection, I’d call it. Lord and Taylor knew all along and have always been ready to satisfy your beret cravings. One of their berets is made of navy blue taffeta with a criss-crossed peek-a-boo arrangement to crown your crown. Another is their own interpretation of Descat’s beret that swoops and swirls in a mad way. There is a baby bonnet that only hints of its source—it’s more like a halo, but above all things is not demure. Of course, if you feel gay and blithe, they’ll do you up proud in the best Tyrolean manner, but when you see their berets, you will think as I do—long may they live.
After all, good taste is something to sing about, and at Pennington’s (231 East Forty-second street) good taste in furniture is the theme song. You are safe in their hands. You may think it is a shop to approach on tip-toe and with whispers of awe; but that’s all wrong. Mr. Roehmer, a kindly soul, combs the world’s markets for style, with an eye to charm prospective furniture buyers, but also with a thought for the purse-strings of us poor mortals. Right now, with the fickle dollar, there is very little being imported in the way of lush French fabrics, so Pennington has gathered up furniture with these fabrics which cannot be duplicated or reordered, and are closing them out at spectacular savings. The experience of buying really good furniture is now yours to enjoy—on this year’s income.
Talk about the cloud with a silver lining—you don’t know anything until you have seen the silver raincoat at Peck and Peck’s. It’s just one of those little accidents of a chemist that sometimes turns into a big event. This chemist set out to do something about adhesive tape—maybe he wanted to make it stick tighter—but what came out of the crucible was a bright and shining fabric that makes the gold standard look like tired gilt. Such a fabric has never been seen on land or sea. Light as a feather, shiny as a newly minted dollar, and rain-resisting as a duck. It was Peck and Peck who got the grand idea of making this brainchild of the bewildered chemist into a city slicker for rainy days. They did it in a classic model and suggest that you wear it with red accessories.
Breathes there a girl with soul so dead who never to herself had said—I want a slimmer and better figure? Her longing can be appeased at Marie Ollendorf’s at the St. Moritz. What that individual can do about pummeling you into shape is everybody’s business. Besides her expert massage, her other contribution to the joy of life is “Forme de L’Heure,” a reducing soap to be used on those fatty bulges and which works wonders with a few applications. Drop in for a free consultation.
The boot tab pusher is a gift from the tradition of old England. Twenty million equestrians should bless me for bringing it to the fore. It’s just a neat little stick with a wide, flat end that sends the recalcitrant buttons of your breaches down in a well-ordered and disciplined retreat when you pull on your boots—tames them early in the game, you see. Once you’re happily astride, you’ll have no more button trouble. No longer after the first glory of your canter will misery set in—no longer will you have a burning insignia of bruises to spoil the perfection of your lazy jog home after a perfect run. Altman’s has this for about $1.50.
The Archive of the Jewish Telegraphic Agency includes articles published from 1923 to 2008. Archive stories reflect the journalistic standards and practices of the time they were published.
