By Mrs. W.N. Hutt, Progressive Farmer Woman’s Editor
For many moons now our men have been seriously concerned about the length of skirts of the womanfolk. It and the price of cotton are equal rivals as subjects of conversation where men gather together. Appeal after appeal has come to us to give space to that subject, to urge longer skirts, to wirte smashing attacks upon those that are short.
But we have hesitated because in all things we want to be sure of our facts. Our eyes have been open, our hears have been to the ground for arguments against them. Finally, we turned to the letters of the men themselves for points from which to combat the short skirt fashion, but in all the letters the epithets “scandalous, terrible ridiculous,” and such were applied but not one reason against them given. Such being the case and wanting our arguments to be well based, not “I thinks” and “we disapproves” we sought our own arguments.
“Short dresses are not safe” we said to ourselves. Then we watched women climb into cars and teach calves to drink from buckets. We discarded that reason.
“Short skirts are not healthful” we said. One day it was very dry at the community fair and my, ow those long skirts did stir up the germ laden dust to be breathed by the just and unjust. The difference berween these and the short skirted girls was as the difference in dust raised by the automobiles and bicycle. The next day it rained. The long skirts were wet and sodden. Many of the women sat in them an hour listening to the lectures. Many a cold was the result surely. The abbreviated skirts caught no more water than a man’s trousers. We checked off the healthful idea.
Argument there was that the men must deem long skirts more convenient. We watched baby laden women climb stairs, we saw skirts catch on buggy steps, snags, and weeds. “Nay, nay,” we said, “Let us seek further.”
“Women have too much to do. Long skirts are more easily cared for;” but one ironing day, one Monday brushing of Sunday’s clothes convinced us otherwise.
“Ah,” we said at last. “Long skirts are more economical because short skirts call for neater shoes and silk stockings.” Yet when we balanced accounts in the cost of these against the decreased number of yards of cloth required, we discarded that argument.
“Precedent,” we declared to ourselves. “The fathers of the country consider that what has been is right.” Looking back however at the few centuries that have elapsed since man emerged from cloaks, blue satin trousers and frilled shirts, we sought elsewhere.
“Moral grounds? Could it be that?” Now we had the solution. A setback came when a grayhaired lady said, “Have the mothers, who always stand first in finding and removing stumbling blocks from the pathway of their sons and daughters, have they protested?”
“No,” we answered. “Not once.” Were we not correct in assuming that the length of woman’s skirts had in no wise upset the morals of any community?
“Modesty might be the consideration.” We pondered on that too, but since modesty did not seem to be a strong point of menfolk at bathing beach, in fields, or elsewhere that it clashed with convenience; we still questioned.
“Now we have it. It is beauty,” said a fleeting idea. We gazed around us and decided that a beautiful thing indeed is the low-heeled sensible shoe so much in vogue and the well-stockinged ankle.
“Girls,” I said in despair to a high school class, “Why do you wear short dresses?”
“They are so comfortable,” was the reply.
“Why do some people wear them too short?”
“They have no sense,” said one girl.
“They can’t see themselves,” said another.
“Wisdom is justified of her children,” I quoted, for here was the reason and the solution. It is human nature for a fool to be a fool. The fool goes to excess in all things. The moderate is moderate in all things. There is no cure for them. If short dresses are the style, they will wear them too short and invite criticism.
In “They do not see themselves” lies the solution. The sense of fitness, beauty and withal of humor will save the day. But how can a woman be be made to see herself? The answer came one day in a shoe store. One young and two middle-aged women entered and faced a full-length mirror. Each paused, looked at herself. One started to pull her skirts down to a more seemly length, one shortened her too long skirt by tucking it in at the belt, and the other endeavored to even hers.
I returned to the office and looked up the price of full length door mirrors and found them to be from $15 to $20, door and all. If every store keeper, banker, and head of household would spend a portion of their well-earned savings in such a mirror it might be missionary money well spent in a good cause.
From the Progressive Farmer, Nov. 26, 1921
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