What is your literary taste? Are you poetical? Does your temperament run to the flowery and ecstatic? If so, you will be "landed" by the full-page advertisement which I find in my evening newspaper, displaying a spreading peacock and half a dozen peacock-ladies in a whirl of ruffles and frills. "THE RAINBOW OF FASHIONS," runs the heading, and continues in this fine, careful rapture:
Other than this the impression is inadequate, that glimpse beheld
of this Fashion Salon, this inimitable Third Floor of Goldstein's.
What but the Rainbow with its inexpressible sunburst of color could be the source—the inspiration from which Fashion has modeled these veritable Exquisites—these beautiful new Frocks and Suits and Coats, these Skirts and Capes—these Blouses and Hats for Milady's luxury?
Truly the Genii of Fashionery are leading us into glory Fields of Beauty never before attained, although it seemed for a time that Artists of Vogue had decided to paint indefinitely upon that picture of yesterday, with an occasional new tint perhaps to relieve somewhat the monotonous restrictions both in style and in fabric.
But now—today—at Goldstein's—the picture is a new one—startling and irresistible—to be elaborated upon each day—for it is each day that new thoughts are added as new Express Packages are opened from Fashiondom.
Come, take a pencil peek with me—and ONLY as a pencil sees them—not at all as they are—or as you may see them if you come where these "Pretties" are all assembled—where fashions are wont to congregate at Goldstein's.
Or does your taste run to humor? Are you bluff and
hearty, a real fellow and a good sport? Then maybe your
purse-strings will be loosened by the full-page advertisement
which appears in all the magazines for August, 1919, portraying
a stout and sensual gentleman with a pipe in his mouth
and a wink in both eyes. Cries this gentleman:
SCRUB UP YOUR SMOKEDECKS AND CUT FOR A NEW
PIPE DEAL! Say, you'll have a streak of smokeluck that'll put pep-in-YOUR
smokemotor, all right, if you'll ring-in with a jimmy pipe
or the papers and nail some "Devil's-dung" for packing!
Just between ourselves, you never will wise-up to high-spot-smoke-joy until you can call a pipe or a home-rolled cigarette by its first name, THEN, to hit the peak-of-pleasure you land square on that two-fisted-man-tobacco, "Devil's-dung!"
Well, sir, you'll be so all-fired happy you'll want to get a photograph of yourself breezing up the pike with your smokethrottle wide open! TALK ABOUT SMOKE-SPORT!
And now, stop and consider what proportion of the total
energies of the community are devoted to the production of
