Chapter 8

Sunlight is a glorious medicine for the woman of nerves. If I had a nervous fuss-budget under my care, the first thing I would do would be to feed her well. I'd give her nourishing broths and daintily-served vegetables, and little steaks and chops and plenty of fattening cereals and drinks. I would bundle her off to the parks every morning with sealed orders not to come back until she was dead tired and as hungry as a small girl at a boarding school. I would impress upon her mind the great need of throwing worry to the winds and taking in good, long breaths of God's blessed fresh air. Then, after feeding her some more, I'd make her take a nice, refreshing sponge bath and tumble early into bed. After several days of such treatment I'd corner her where she couldn't get away and lay down the laws.

"Now it's just with yourself," the lecture would begin with, "whether you are to be a jolly-hearted, wholesome-looking woman or a tailor-made gown with a bundle of nerves inside of it. No matter what comes, don't make yourself wretched by fretting. Every one has troubles. You can't escape them. Sometimes they come with a sweep-like tornadoes gone mad, and you'll say to yourself: 'My heavens! I wonder if I'll live through it all?' But you will, and between you and me, my dear, it's just as well to come out of the battle with a smiling face as with eight additional crow's feet and a new scolding lock of gray hair. Just say to yourself: 'I will not grind my teeth because the man next to me in the street car is chewing a toothpick. I am not responsible for his lack of manners. I positively refuse to have fits because the woman in the flat next to mine plays the flute eight hours a day. If it's convenient I'll move; if it isn't I'll not make existence a daylight nightmare.'

"School yourself!" I will continue. "Get lots of starch in you and a backbone that is a backbone! Don't fall down in a heap and mope over things you can't help. The agreeable things in life are as rare as sage-brush growing in Gotham, while the disagreeable is bobbing up eternally. So brace up, my friend, and make the best of it. Discipline yourself. Keep your mind fresh and bright, and your body strong and healthy. If you have hard work to do then do it with the least possible expenditure of worry and nerve-force. Be in the open air as much as you can, and above everything else dwell not on the unhealthy state of your nerves. Let self-mastery be your shibboleth and 'no nerves' your prayer."

PERFUMES

"Oh, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem, By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem, For that sweet odor which doth in it live."

--_Shakespeare._

Women love delicate perfumes as they do silk stockings and violets. It's just "born in 'em," like their deep-rooted horror of mice and bills and burglars. From the time when the baby girl sniffs the sweetness of the powder puff as it fluffs about her soft, pretty neck until the white-haired lady lovingly fondles the lavender sachets that lie between the folds of her time-yellowed wedding gown, she loves sweet odors.

The true gentlewoman never uses strong perfumes, yet her hats and clothing and handkerchiefs always send forth a faint scent of fragrant flowers. The odor is so very slight that it does not suggest the dashing on of perfume, but, instead, bespeaks scrupulous cleanliness of body and garments, with perhaps an added suggestion of the soft winds that blow over a clover field. No perfume at all is far better than too much, for who does not look with suspicious eyes upon the woman who, when passing one on the street, seems to be in an invisible vapor of white rose or jockey club--strong enough to work on the streets?

There is a secret about it all, and such a simple one! It is merely choosing one particular odor and using it in every possible way. There is nothing sweeter than violet perfume, so suppose I illustrate with that? Begin by using orris root for your teeth, combined, of course, with the other necessary ingredients. Then, if you can afford it, get the expensive imported violet soaps, although as a matter of beautifying there is nothing better than the pure white castile. The odor of this, disliked by some, can be entirely done away with by using a little violet toilet water in the bath and touching the ear lobes with it afterward.

Then, between the folds of your gowns and in the crowns of your hats lay little violet sachets, always removing them before the gown or hat is worn, as the perfume must be faint and delicate. A few drops of essence of violet will scent your face powder, if it is not already perfumed, and bath bags of orris--and other good things--will add to your galaxy of sweet odors. If you use creme marquise or any of the other delightful cosmetics told about in our beauty book, add a little essence of violets to them while they are being mixed. Putting it all in a nutshell: Simply choose your favorite perfume and carry it out in every detail. For those who are fond of violet I will give the following recipes:

Creme de la Violettes: Place in a porcelain kettle one ounce each of white wax and spermaceti, cut in fine shavings. When melted add to this five ounces oil of sweet almonds and heat, but do not let boil. Remove from fire and pour in quickly one and one-half ounces of rose-water in which ten grains of borax has been dissolved. Beat briskly. When beginning to thicken, add one-half teaspoonful essence of violets. When nearly cold put in little jars. Use as cold cream or any general face cosmetic. It is more effective when applied at night, just after the face is bathed in warm water and while the flesh is pink and moist.

Perfume--Violettes de Bois:

Essence of violets, five ounces. Essence of acacia, one ounce. Essence of rose, one ounce. Extract of iris root, one ounce. Oil of bitter almonds, five drops.

Violet Lotion:

Alcohol, four ounces. Ammonia, one ounce. Essence of violets, one dram.

Add one teaspoonful of this to a bowl of water when bathing the face, neck and arms. Hard water is the cause of many bad complexions, and this will remedy that particular trouble of the beauty-seeker.

Poudre de Vicomtesse:

Talcum powder, seven and one-half ounces. Finest starch, one and one-fourth ounces. Powdered orris root, one and one-fourth ounces. Oil of orris, ten drops.

Violet Bath Bags:

Two pounds of finely ground oatmeal. Three ounces of almond flour. One cake of best white castile soap, shaved fine. One-quarter pound powdered orris root.

Take one yard of cheese cloth and make it into little bags about four inches square and fill with the mixture. These will make a soft white lather, and afterward the face, neck and arms should be rinsed in water containing a few drops of benzoin. Larger bags can be made for the regular bath.

For the Teeth:

One-fourth pound of prepared chalk, finely powdered. Three-fourths ounce pulverized castile soap. One ounce powdered orris root. One-half dram oil of sassafras. One ounce pulverized sugar.

Violet Sachet:

Black currant leaves, powdered, one-fourth pound. Rose leaves, one-fourth pound. Cassia buds, one-eighth pound. Orris, ground, one-half pound. Gum benzoin, one-eighth pound. Grain musk, powdered, one-fourth dram. Mix thoroughly and let stand for one week.

Violet Toilet Water:

Essence of violet, one and three-fourth ounces. Essence of rose, one-half ounce. Essence of cassie, one-half ounce. Alcohol, 14 ounces.

Essence de Fleur d'Oranges:

One-half ounce pure neroli. One pint alcohol. One ounce essence of jonquille.

Violet Sachet Powder:

Eight ounces of orris root. Five drops oil of bergamot. Three drops oil of bitter almonds. Four drops oil of rose. One fluid dram tincture of musk. Mix thoroughly.

Lavender Sachet Powder:

One pound powdered lavender. One-quarter pound gum benzoin (powdered). Six ounces oil of lavender. Mix.

Heliotrope Sachet Powder:

One-quarter pound rose leaves. Two ounces tonquin, ground fine. One-quarter pound pulverized orris root. One ounce vanilla (powdered). One-half grain musk. Two drops oil of almonds. Mix by fluffing through a sieve.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Woman Beautiful, by Helen Follett Stevans