Miss Austen breaks her long silence

My dearest Jane,
It has been nigh on two years (!) since my last Fashion report, yet fear not that the absurdities have abated. Only last week I espied a young woman at 8 o'clock in the morning wearing the full regalia of a Lady of the Night.

She wore stilletto-heeled knee boots, an astonishingly short and tight skirt and a cropped faux leopardskin jacket: a classic ensemble of its kind.

And given that the young woman was making her way towards King's Cross (a well-known district of dubious virtue), tis indeed possible that her attire was, in fact, appropriate to her Profession.

Day Twelve, In which she observes the passing of Winter

My dearest Jane —

I have seen the first crocus, finally, hence Spring is nearly upon us and I've been remiss in recording the dazzling costumes the fashionable young London misses have been sporting this winter. I regret I have no drawings for you, but shall attempt a word-picture.

The watchword this season is Boots, in a great variety of styles: to-wit:

• thigh-high, in the manner of Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan, yet with the thinnest of spike heels that cause the innocent creatures to slip and slide on the ice in the most alarming manner;
  
• brightly coloured red or blue knee-high boots, again with the slim spiked-heels, but even less Practical for they have left a great Hole open at the Toes, thus allowing the snow and rain in to soak their stockings (one fears for their health!);
  
• knitted woollen ones that slop 'round their wearers' ankles to be trodden into the mud side-wise; and finally,
  
• stout, short black boots with roll-tops to wear their trouser-legs tuck'd in ... alas for the Cause of Sensibility, these are the least oft seen and surely the most Practical.
  

with love from your sister,

Day Eleven: In which she admires hair in its infinite variety

My dearest Jane —

One of the many, many happy differences that have near to overwhelm'd me in this strange, new world is that not only Women, but Persons of all colours are now Equals. 'Tis a marvellous thing.

Of late, my eye has been caught by the varied coiffure possibilities that Black women have. (And, not to be outdone, I see many young White women injecting colour of the most extreme nature into their own hair).



Of the young women above, the one with the masses of curly hair was simply too beautiful for words, but alas, her lack of sense rendered her terribly silly. She prattled away on her little mobile telephone (a miraculous device that allows one to speak to anyone, anywhere) spreading intimate details of a scandalous affair to the world at large. I at first b'lieved her to be speaking of her own friends and family, she spoke in such familiar terms, yet I determined it was of certain "celebrities" -- or as we would say, Society -- of which she spoke. These "slebs" are exalted beings; sometimes actors and musicians, yet more oft they are no-bodies who have achieved fame through no honour or industry or cleverness, but simply through notoriety or promiscuity. The saddest aspect of this adoration of celebrity for its own sake is that young persons seek to emulate them. They desire only fame and will debase themselves in the most shameful ways to achieve it. Sadly, the very pretty young one I sketched t'was as empty-headed as the ones she worships.


with love from your sister,

Report from a London Fashion Week correspondent

Dear Miss Austen,
Whilst strolling down the bustling thoroughfare that is London's Oxford Street during the season known as "London fashion week" I happened on a stylish young lady dressed all in black with a stuffed raven perched on her head.

Would that you had been there to observe the wondrous sight!

Your humble servant
Sue

Day Ten: Wherein fancy-dress costumes are everyday wear

My dearest Jane —

I have been busy of late and find little time to write, forgive me. Believe me in that you are always in my mind - the most astonishing costumes are paraded before me almost daily and we would be beside ourselves were you here with me.



F'r instance, take these two young women ... both took extraordinary care with the coordination and colour matching in their outfits. Yet, one wonders, why? The Harlequin on the right was absolutely black-and-white from top to toes - black boots, black and white woolly leggings (in the heat of summer!); her blouse, in the "sporting" style was blocks of solid black and white. Even her hair was very-nearly white. All this might have worked on a dainty little person but on this great, stomping-about-sort of mannish woman the effect was rather overwhelming.

In contrast, the Neo-Roman in her eye-burningly bright-blue toga and black leggings was such a delicate creature that, despite the peculiarity of the costume, was actually quite attractive. One does wonder what she will think in 20 years on looking back ...

with love from your sister,

Day Nine: In Which She Ponders the Cult of the One Red Toe-Nail

Dearest Jane —



I believe I have, e'er now, mentioned some of the peculiarities of summer footwear but lately my attention has been drawn to the most rare and diverting sight. T'is the preponderance of One Red Toe thrusting out from a gap in the toe of many ladies' shoes.

'Pon my first encounter with this phenomenon, I naturally assumed the poor woman's toe simply could not be enduced to stay inside the shoe, and attributed it to misplaced vanity in regard to the largeness of her foot. And I did wonder if she were so vain as to wear such tiny shoes, if 'twas quite so wise to paint the offending digit with such a bright red shade of varnish?

Yet then I saw another, and yet another. So I began asking myself, to what could this be attributed? Could so many women be so convinced of the tininess of their feet? And why the extremely red paint was so desirable? I fear my imagination leapt quite away (as it sometimes does) and I dreampt up a Secret Society of Women who identify themselves to each other through expos'ng said toe to the world. The very redness of the toe would signify ... what? T'was then I realised the flaw in my reasoning. It could hardly be a Secret since it is so immediately noticeable (or in the parlance of the Young today "in yer face"), it must be ... alas ... merely a passing fashion.

Or p'haps toes have just got larger and shoes shorter? I fear I shall never know;

with love from your sister,

Day Eight: In Which She Angers a Young Woman By Simply Looking

My very dear Jane —

Words fail me.



The young man seemed perfectly respectable. He was attired in the casual style so much favoured by the young here; but tidy and clean & softly spoken. Whatever could motivate him to dig such a large hole out of his ear, pierce the bridge of his nose and push a SPIKE through his lower lip? His female companion likewise seemed ordinary enough, but one must respect her bravery, if not her judgment, in hoping for an amorous relationship. A courageous woman indeed, to dare to kiss that mouth!

The second young woman astonished me and I daresay I could not take my eyes off her, tho' I must confess it very ill-mannered. She did glower at me for daring to look! But, upon my honour! t'was was impossible to look away! Her clothing was most extraordinary ... a dirty, frayed flouncy skirt over grubby leggings and bright red "basketball" boots.

But more peculiar than that ... what manner of creature leaves her hair unwash'd till it forms gigantic spiralling rat's-tails & puts rings thru her nose & pierces her lip to leave a nail's-head behind? &, having chosen to bedeck herself in this most unwholesome and unusual garb, why should she become angered when persons are amazed enough to stare? One would think that, by this, her objective would be fulfilled.

It grows ever more lonely and strange here,
love from your own,