ple dignity of an elderly woman's dress that she is conservative and well-poised.
In the clothes we wear we reveal to the world the story of our ideals, our principles. If we are frivolous, our clothes show it. If we have a sense of the artistic, our clothes show it. If we are modest, bold, vain or proud the clothes we wear reveal it for all the world to see.
But "Dress changes the manners," Voltaire tells us. It is true; on the stage the "beggar" in his tattered clothes acts and speaks and looks the part of a beggar. At dress rehearsals he plays the part to perfection, but rehearsing in ordinary street clothes he is never quite satisfactory. Something seems to be missing; and that something is personality. The same is true of the rather studious young girl who is also shy and retiring. In her somber clothes, she is perfectly content in the gloomy solitude of her study; but dressed in a filmy little frock of lace and net, with her hair youthfully marcelled, with buckled slippers on her feet, she feels vaguely dissatisfied. She wants to skip and dance and laugh and sing; if she knew psychology and the personality in dress, she would be able to explain it to herself in this manner: clothes so affect the mental outlook, that the wearer unconsciously adopts the personality portrayed.
Can you imagine a Lord Chesterton in tattered clothes, a Queen Elizabeth in a limp calico frock, a George Washington in a conspicuously checked suit? Unmistakable qualities of character are discernible in the clothes we wear—and for that reason we should be particularly careful to make them a true expression of our personality.
Thus when you want to feel light-hearted and free from care, wear delicate fabrics and bright hats. When you want to be thoughtful and solemn, wear heavy clothes
