“The latest fashion? The very same as we’ve had for ten, twenty, and thirty years, the same as we’ll have in a hundred years.” That is indeed the major difference between British and French, American, and Italian fashion. An Englishman orders ten suits and five pairs of shoes at a time. At a time! He changes his clothes daily, always looks elegant, and is not bothered by shoemakers and tailors for five years. An American buys himself a new suit every summer, every winter, wears it day after day, then tosses it into the trash can after six months. He does the same with his hats and everything else! He follows fashion, to the extent that this can be called fashion. Today his jacket needs to have four buttons, his overcoat needs a velvet collar, his shoes need to be wing-tipped; tomorrow he will put a green band on his straw hat, and his waist needs to “fall” exactly three inches above his appendix. Business, nothing but business! The same applies to French, Italian, or any fashion. Practical, unobtrusive, elegant: that is the inclination of the well-dressed Englishman.
His clothes have to be of the best fabric, his shoes of the finest leather, his shirts of pure silk. Anything that is expensive is good, anything that is good lasts a long time, and anything that lasts a long time is not expensive enough! “The suit you see here”—he points to his dark gray sports jacket, to his flannel trousers, all perfectly new, as if straight from the shop window, a fabulous fit, “this suit is three and a half years old! I had it made in London at the top tailor’s for twenty-two pounds. I’m the picture of foolishness, you’re thinking? Add it up! Three and a half years and counting. An American needs seven suits for this period of time. And I hope to be able to wear mine for another good three years. You’re amazed? Just a moment! How old do your ties normally get?” The Englishman glances sympathetically at my tie, the little knot of which sits impeccably on the stiff collar. “Half a year at most.”
“Half a year? Do you know how long I’ve been wearing my ties? Three and four years! Yes, indeed! But have a look at the quality, and take a look at the way it’s tied: the knot is big, tied casually. Being creased on a daily basis ruins even the best tie. And what good is a stiff collar? Washing it is expensive, and your neck gets chafed and painful. We wear it only with a tuxedo and tails. Otherwise just soft collars. You see, the structure leaves a bit of space free for the knot here, which means that the collar will always fit even it’s too small or too large.” “And doesn’t fashion ever offer anything new?”
“New? Nothing but minor details. Ultimately it makes no difference whether the trousers are an inch and a half longer, the lapels three-fourths of an inch wider. The suit always has a casual cut, with long, wide Oxford trousers and unwaisted short jacket. The overcoat, also unwaisted, is long. Here it’s rare to see the all-weather coat that is so popular there. It serves as a raincoat, a winter coat, and a coat for between seasons. Hats are light, made of the best felt. Shoes are always rounded, rough leather, and thick-soled. Patent-leather shoes without toe caps. Wearing undershirts goes a long way toward minimizing wear and tear on shirts. Why undershirts? Practical, my dearest, practical, nothing but practical. There’s nothing else to say about us. You must already be aware that we always puff on pipes, spit with passion, play soccer devotedly, and are blessed with hearing like a congested walrus!”
A clever fellow, this Englishman! By the way, he’s brought me around to this taste in clothing: I’m going to dress in the English way, starting today! Because going English is cheap, and what is cheap enough these days?
Die Bühne, February 11, 1926
Lubitsch Discovers
A CASTING BY AMERICA’S GREAT DIRECTOR
Daisy is determined to enter the world of film. She signs up for an appointment with Lubitsch and waits out the three days until she can finally go into the room of the Almighty One.
“What can I do for you?”
“I want to be in films!”
“Show me your feet!”
Daisy awkwardly lifts up her skirt until just above the knee.
“Not bad! Your other foot, please!”
Daisy bashfully replies, “It looks just like the other one!”
“Is that right? You’re hired. For my next film: The Lady with the Two Left Feet!”
Die Bühne, February 18, 1926
FIGURE 14. “Die Tiller Girls sind da!” announces the arrival of the Tiller Girls in Vienna, Die Stunde (April 3, 1926).
The Tiller Girls Are Here!
THEY ARRIVED THIS MORNING AT THE WESTBAHNHOF
This morning, thirty-four of the most enticing legs emerged from the Berlin express train when it arrived at the Westbahnhof station. The charming ladies to whom they belonged had stylish traveling outfits on, and one of the last to leave the sleeping car was a tall, elegant lady of a certain age, an old-fashioned hat atop her somewhat flattened head, a lorgnette in her right hand, whirling her left hand in the air in the style of a musical conductor.
Someone wanted to know: “A girls’ boarding school, certainly.”
“Haha! April 2!”
These are the Tiller Girls, the charming Lawrence Tiller Girls from Manchester. Everyone is chirpy, busily squealing and giggling. You don’t know where to look first. Sixteen magnificent girls, gathered together, cultivated in all parts of the world. Those figures, those legs, those little faces, and well bred to boot; aristocratic, you might say.
Miss Harley—such is the name of the shepherdess of these little sheep—is directing the operations, and everything works perfectly: the suitcases, the passports, everything is fine. The girls stand at attention in
