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mirror to get the most flattering re
flection of herself. She knows how to
take ten years from her age by a
clever arrangement of electric bulbs
and candle shades, and she can lose
twenty-five pounds, from her weight
by turning and squirming before her
mirror to bring her figure to a cer
Then, keeping this satisfactory pic
ture of herself in mind, she ventures
forth complacently into the pitiless
light of day. (Please note "pitiless.")
In her dressing-room, woman de
liberately sees wrong and this
brings us back to answer the bach
Mr. Bachelor, woman does see her
self elsewhere than in a mirror, and
presently you shall be told where;
but it must be admitted that what she
sees is still a highly artificial reflec
Man has certain prized traditions
of what woman should be. Genera
tions come and go, but Man's notion
of what makes a perfect Woman
persists. And so we come by that
smart phrase, "the eternal feminine."
Man will adapt his religion, and his
politics, and his ideas of rapid transit,
and of justice, and even of a good
razor, to the changing centuries. But
in every age he demands exactly the
same type of woman she must be
just "womanly"; it's quite simple; in
the words of the poet, she needs
merely to shine as "a constellation
Though separated in their lives by
a thousand years, Penelope and Pris
cilla are the same. And today man
still expects to find it her his ideal'
at a tango tea, wearing a gossamer
flesh-colored bodice and a sheathed
silk skirt, and showing a correct taste
in cigarets, and the ability to state
her preference in highballs!
And in order to maintain some illu
sion, of an inherited delicacy and re
finement existing beneath some vul
gar but popular customs woman now
had to twist her mental and moral
lights a good deal, just as she fixes
her looking-glass to produce a de
ceiving exaggeration of her beauty.
So long as man preserves one type
of beauty as an ideal and something
quite different as an actual personal
preference, woman will go right on
distorting the true image of herself,
and trying to fit herself to man's
fashionable composite photo of her,
blurred though it be.
For know this, Mr. Bachelor:
Woman never cares to see herself
as she is.
She prefers her reflection
Because the only looking-glass
she values is in the eye of man!
THE CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
WOMEN ARE ALL ALIKE
As we got into one of the Symones'
cars they sent us home in, I heard
Dick say: "Well, Harry, we'll go'
around and show Jack's girl a good
time while she is here."
"All right," said Harry.
"Dick," I said, "did you tell Harry
Symone about what Jack asked me to
do for the girl who is coming here
with the Janis company?"
"Why, of course, I did, and we've
put up a good' joke on Jack. We're
going to take her out and show her
the town. "
"Now, Dick, I want to tejl you that
you must do nothing of the kind. In
the first place it is very dishonorable
for you to use the knowledge that
you learned through opening my let
ter to play a joke on poor Jack. Be-,
sides, I will not have that poor little
girl made to suffer" from any mistaken
pleasantry on your part and lastly,
what about Eliene Symone and me?
Do you think it is treating us prop
erly to take chorus girls out and
'show them the town?' "
"I guess I forgot I was married,"
said Dick, a bit crestfallen, "but TVfar-