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,

Day Seven: In Which a Carefully-placed Handkerchief Serves as Clothing

My dearest Jane —

Today I saw an attractive young lady on Reading Station who was naked from the waist up, save for a strategically positioned handkerchief and an elegant design on her back. (To be fair, 'twas a rather large handkerchief, but that is indeed all it was).

The two gentlemen walking ahead of me and just behind her were most delighted at the vision thus placed before them. I believe one of them was having difficulty breathing, he wheezed at every step, and all the more so when she turned and smiled at him!

The design on her back, by-the-bye, was permanently marked on her skin in the manner of Savages from far-flung Islands. Such markings or "tattoos" (for so they are called) is all the rage amongst the populace ... young and old alike have inky inscriptions in various colours and degrees of tastefulness marked on their wrists, to serve as permanent bracelets or as marks of affection to their loved ones on their arms. The young lady's pictures were surprizingly nice, but many such seem little more than ugly scratchings.

Even more alarming is the peculiar habit of Piercing their skin - noses, ears, cheeks, even tongues. It looks most uncomfortable. I have seen the most horrific disfigurement done in the name of fashion. I cannot yet bring myself to draw these sights, it is still all too disturbing.

I did think the preposterous sights would soon diminish, dearest Jane. Perhaps in time, they will.

with much love from your troubled sister,

Day Six: In which a gentleman performs ablutions best done in private

My dearest Jane —

I shan't have you thinking that I limit my observations to merely the young & silly.

This middle-aged, rather smartly dressed gentleman could have stepped from the pages of your own Sense & Sensibility. He was engrossed in his own book, utterly oblivious to the world as it swarm'd past him; he reamed his ear in search of imperfections, carefully withdrew the digit for a deep perusal of the results of his efforts, and then re-inserted said digit for another dig.

Most astonishing. And, given his range of rather expensive-looking accoutrements, I am sure he considers himself a man of Taste and Refinement.

And whilst I ponder on ears, do you recall my earlier missive in which I mentioned the corks that people put in their ears, to shut out the dreadful noisiness of this place? Well, it seems I was mistaken in their intent. 'Tis not to shut out noise, rather, it is to introduce new noise. I learned this because the dangling wires are connected to an ingenious device, like a tiny pump, that spews out this noise. It is rhythmic, to be sure, and although they claim it is music, I am not so certain. This sound often "leaks" from their corks and all one can hear is a grinding and clammering, such as you would hear at a miller's or perhaps a combination of the millstones and the hammerings of the blacksmith. It is most curious. My head quite thumps most days from the multitude of loud engines already. I am most unclear on why they would chuse to introduce yet more.

with love from your sister,

Day Five: in which a variety of Summer Footwear is contrast'd

My dearest Jane —
Although the weather is uncommonly warm, it seems to matter little when it comes to the manner in which people are shod. All these little sketches are from the same day, and, indeed are all the feet of Young Women, soldier's and workmen's boots as well.

The soldier's boots were particularly handsome, very heavy black leather with brass plates marching down the front. Perfect for marching in the snow!

The little slippers, called "flip-flops" -- apparently from the flapping noise they make when one strides about -- are far more appropriate to the season, but seem singularly ill-suited for ladylike pursuits (such as walking!) They are, however, perfect for displaying an array of colours on one's toe-nails. Bright shiny red toe varnish is the favourite, but I have also seen various shades of pink, blue and even black! The black did give me quite a start ... the poor girl's feet looked bruised, as if she dropp'd a weight on her toes!

And as for bruised toes, what think you of the winkle-pickers? One can only imagine the agony of shape-changing this creature's feet must suffer when they are at last released from their sword-shaped prison!

With love and amusement, your sister,

Day Four, where Modesty & Immodesty meet

My dearest Jane —

These apparitions are, in truth, the most ordinary of young women. The Left One seems to have taken orders in a convent but rather strangely painted herself like a tuppenny-ha'penny ... woman, and thereby spoilt her otherwise modest attire.

The Other has gone outdoors without even a shift to cover her knees! And if ever did one of our sex need covering, this one surely does. The fabric of her scanty garment is so thin as to reveal every nuance of her figure. Young she may be, but girlishly slender she most certainly is not!

I find my handkerchief in constant use as I struggle in vain to hide my blushes and retain my composure. If only you were here, dear sister, a story would soon emerge to explain the irrationality of this ever-so-peculiar behaviour!

With love from your sister,

Day Three, in which Poverty and Riches are compared

My dearest Jane —

I have so far seen fit only to amuse you with the visions that have shocked my eyes, yet I have not told you anything of substance about this odd place.

It is such a strange mix of richness and poverty, yet not poverty such as you and I are familiar. The people, young and old, are beautiful. There is no sign of pox nor rarely a glimpse of deformity. Their teeth are fine and white, their skin is clear and soft (yet the ladies would bake themselves in the sun until they redden like Iroquois!). There is no evidence of rickets nor goitres. There is a complete lack of thin, starv'd children (much the opposite, even the poorest seem very well fed indeed!). There is universal education paid by public subscription! And above all this goodness, this treasure of health and largesse, fortune heaped upon fortune, is the utterly altered situation of our own sex! 'Tis so miraculous I scarce believe it myself. Ladies have the vote! Indeed, a lady was once the Prime Minister. We can own property, be physicians, be adventuresses and travel in a mere few hours, not weeks nor months, to places as far away as Timbuktoo. Indeed, we can be anything we wish.

And the poverty? Why, one cannot believe the moaning that emits from these unimaginably fortunate beings — and the miserable circumstances in which they perceive themselves to be! They live in a Paradise of Luxury and Wealth that most of our neighbours and acquaintances could never envision in their wildest fancies, and yet the natives complain endlessly of their miserable estate.

I am most puzzled by it, and do long for your cleverness to help me fathom it all.

love and xxx from your very lost sister,

Day Two, in which impossibly high-heeled shoes are seen

My dearest Jane —

Leaving aside the respectability of the wearer (a creature whom, I assure you, is a relatively modest individual in this strange estate), whatever could she have been thinking when she selected this footwear?

This shoe offers little protection from the vagaries of weather which, alas, is still as unpredictable as our own. Worse, the extreme elevation of the heel causes the wearer to be pitched forward in such an exaggerated manner that her gait is changed into the clumping of a cart-horse!

And, believe me, my dear sister, this is by no means the most outlandish example of clothing I have seen. It is merely the first such that, since now I have begun to recover from the shock of arrival here, so reduced me to girlish giggling that I scarcely could smother it!

With much love and affection from your own

Day One, in which Miss Cassandra Austen awakens to a terrible noise!

My dearest Jane —

The most outlandish event has occurred, one impossible to explain, almost even to describe! I am quite at a loss for words, yet I must endeavour to put ink to paper to try and bring sense to it. This very morning I was jolted from sleep by the most astonishing din. It was as if all the pans in the kitchen had been dropped all at once and that mingl'd with the roar of many wild beasts! I was quite frightened by it all and leapt up from my bed only to find that it was not my bed nor even our own dear home! I find myself, by some unknown —perhaps unknowable— agent to have been dropped into a strange and alien land, though I am told that it is England, indeed it is London itself though in no manner whatsoever could it be construed as the London that you and I visited only last summer!

Dearest sister, how I long for you! If only you were here to help me organise my thoughts! I have not your clever wit with words, and my sensibilities are strained beyond measure ... so I have tried to sketch some of the unimaginably odd sights. P'rhaps when I am at last returned safely home, then together we can puzzle out what all this means.

Your loving sister,

P.S. The terrible noise, I am told (and more on this anon!) is the combined sound of many engines all working in concert. It is quite deafening and never ceases! The native peoples seem to insert bits of corks in their ears, with long wires a'dangling, p'rhaps an attempt to soften the sound? Must ask ...