I’ve been neglecting the New York Times lately. Here are some recent snippets.
With four special elections in New York, control of the House of Representatives, held by the Democrats in coalition with some small parties, was on a knife-edge. The result? A Democratic sweep, and courtesy all around.
A defeated Republican candidate’s gracious response:
This was the first time women in New York were able to vote. They did so in large numbers and–good news!–did not get up to all kinds of silly nonsense.
Now for some fact checking. John Francis Hylan, the Tammany mayor of New York, has told a story about a kind man on the shore at Palm Beach rescuing a toad that was being eaten by a jellyfish. Dubitation ensues.
On to the classified ads. Hey, I want one of those too!
Now that you’re caught up on the news, it’s time to party! Make a momentous decision on what to wear,
put on your favorite hat,
and head on out to the the hottest joint in town!
(These articles were accessed at https://timesmachine.nytimes.com/browser. I make fun of the Times a lot, but I’m very grateful for this valuable resource.)
Before I forget this brilliant suggestion, it occurred to me that the recently departed Rev. Billy Graham was born in 1918. He was probably our longest-running preacher, or maybe the first of the public Evangelicals? (I’m not sure what Evangelicals are, actually.) I happened to get a glimpse of him when he was giving a hugely attended performance(?) at Boston Common, outfitted with a very resonant organ. I was a teenager then — I had taken the subway to my usual downtown stop, Park Street Station — and I didn’t stay to listen; Filene’s Basement was awaiting me, and that was much more important, no doubt.
Looking forward to reading about Altman’s spring fashions and its magnificent $7.50 hats, I mean millinery. My mother always wore a hat when she left the house, no matter what the occasion. I remember one that had a ridiculously long feather going sideways; she wore that one to a Reunion luncheon at the Beth Israel School of Nursing. (I have a professional b/w photo of the entire group of alumnae, and they’re all in hats, every single one of them. I was about 7 years old, so it must have been around 1951.)
Hosiery was also de rigueur. I remember, with mixed emotions, that when I had my face smashed with a broken mayonnaise jar, thrown at me by my next-door neighbor, Ronnie, my mother had to put her stockings on while my father got the car. I was bleeding profusely into a towel, on her Martha Washington bedspread, while she clipped the tops of the stockings onto those ugly garter things. A lady didn’t enter the ER without her stockings! I think she skipped the white gloves, though, under the circumstances.
I’ll bet silk stockings were unavailable in 1918. And I doubt that nylon was a thing yet. My mother wore white cotton stockings, full-length, to elementary school. She would have been three years old in 1918.
I see that Billy Graham was born just before the armistice. Nelson Mandela was another 1918 baby, born in July.
Hats were mostly out of fashion by the time I came along, but I do remember the garters clipped on to the stockings. I also remember thinking that I was doomed to wear girdles later in life. Luckily that did prove to be the case. I used to wear white gloves to church and also on other special occasions, like visiting my dad at work in New York.
I’ll have to look into the stockings issue. They’re not as widely advertised as corsets and underwear.