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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 6, Issue 6 (December 1, 1931)

Organdie and Broderie Anglaise

Organdie and Broderie Anglaise.

Do you want to have something really alluring this summer–something just created to drift about in gardens among the roses where you will not feel an intruder but part of the wonderful scheme of things? A dress that will float gently page 60 page 61 in the summer breezes–that will look something between a cloud and a flower?

This summer our frocks are to be ultra-feminine. Out from 1932 steps a rather adorable little Victorian; perhaps not so slender as to waist, nor so demure as to shy downward glances, but equally charming in her frills, and her ribbons, and her audacious entrancing hats. There is a faint rumour that cigarettes will have to be abandoned as totally unsuited for the “tout ensemble” of the coming year! In the meantime, let us discuss over a cigarette your summer creation–which can be a delightful blend of the new Broderie Anglaise and organdie. Make a short little bodice of Broderie Anglaise, close fitting–with tiny puffed sleeves–and your skirt shall be of flared organdie—with bands of Broderie Anglaise and two frills of organdie at the hem. Then make a short coatee, without which no frock is complete–a dainty little affair of lace with a tiny organdie frill all round the edge.

Christmas Day.
God's morn to you!
Once more has Christmas Day
Come by with all its many joys.
And can you not recall the snow-clad miles,
The logs ablaze within the chimney piles?
Nor hear again the frolic, nor the play
'Neath mistletoe and holly bough, the slanted smiles
Of maids demure and shy-bold boys?
Can you not visualise that Xmas tree.
With dancing flame jets–gold and red?
Sleep misted eyes, waiting the chime
Of fairy-bells, to catch dear Santy climb
Down thro’ the flue, coated in rime?
Your stocking hang–the biggest that could be
Procured—to dangle at your bed.
Can't you recall the redbreast that awoke
You with a Christmas chirrup wise?
The panes by Jack Frost etched o'er night;
And mother's greeting, crooning in delight
At Santy's gifts; her kiss that love bespoke
More plainly than her greetings bright
To tousled heads and dancing eyes?