rt; and when the subject is naturally well formed,--_tout
faite_, as they say,--and not artificially made up with what is called
the _taille de couturiere_, their painstaking knows no bounds.

During these long _seances_, which last for hours together and occupy so
large a place in the day of a woman of fashion, the common love of
toilet makes, for the moment at least, the _grande dame_ or the
aristocrat the equal of the modest employee, and, while the _jupiere_ is
turning round and round madame la baronne, there often takes place a
lively interchange of gossip and a review of the plastic qualities of
the friends and rivals in beauty of madame la baronne who are also
customers of the house. The _grand couturier_ himself is a
treasure-house of queer stories and scandals, and naturally his
employees take after their master. The _couturier_, you see, is not a
tradesman: he is an artist, and he renders a woman far greater service
than the artist-painter, who finds her already dressed and only has to
copy her, whereas the _couturier_ dresses a woman not once, but twenty
times a year, and each time that he invents a becoming toilet he makes a
new creation not only of the toilet, but of the woman. There has, in
fact, been a great change made in modern times in matters of dress. Our
modern women are no longer content with merely seasonable dresses,
appropriate in form and material for spring, summer, autumn, or winter;
they are no longer satisfied to have four interviews a year with the
dress-maker. On the contrary, every event in social life--a wedding, a
ball, a visit to a country-house, the annual excursions to sea-side and
mountain--gives occasion for special dresses, or rather costumes, for in
modern toilets the element of pure costume plays a considerable _role_
especially in those destined for wear in the country. The modern woman
of fashion needs endless morning, afternoon, and evening dresses,
tea-gowns, breakfast-dresses, of endless varieties of form, stuff, and
color. Hence she is constantly in communication with the _couturier_,
who has every opportunity of examining her morally and physically,
confessing her, listening often to strange confidences. Not unfrequently
he combines with his artistic career that of a banker. Naturally, ladies
who run up yearly bills of twenty thousand dollars for gowns and mantles
are often in a corner for want of a few thousands, and the Parisienne in
such circumstances often thinks it e