as a dressing-table? Just because they have been
so ugly we condemn them to eternal ugliness, but it is quite possible to
make the washstand interesting to look upon as well as serviceable. It
isn't necessary to buy a "set" of dreadful crockery. You can assemble
the necessary things as carefully as you would assemble the outfit for
your writing-table. Go to the pottery shops, the glass shops, the
silversmiths, and you will find dozens of bowls and pitchers and small
things. A clear glass bowl and pitcher and the necessary glasses and
bottles can be purchased at any department store. The French peasants
make an apple-green pottery that is delightful for a washstand set. So
many of the china shops have large shallow bowls that were made for
salad and punch, and pitchers that were made for the dining-table, but
there is no reason why they shouldn't be used on the washstand. I know
one wash basin that began as a Russian brass pan of flaring rim. With it
is used an old water can of hammered brass, and brass dishes glass
lined, to hold soaps and sponges. It is only necessary to desire the
unusual thing, and you'll get it, though much searching may intervene
between the idea and its achievement.

The washstand itself is not such a problem. A pair of dressing-tables
may be bought, and one fitted up as a washstand, and the other left to
its usual use.

In the Colony Club there are a number of bathrooms, but there are also
washstands in those rooms that have no private bath. Each bathroom has
its fittings planned to harmonize with the connecting bedroom, and the
clear glass bottles are all marked in the color prevailing in the
bedroom. Each bathroom has a full-length mirror, and all the
conveniences of a bathroom in a private house. In addition to these
rooms there is a long hall filled with small _cabinets de toilette_
which some clever woman dubbed "prinkeries." These are small rooms
fitted with dressing-tables, where out-of-town members may freshen their
toilets for an occasion. These little prinkeries would be excellent in
large country houses, where there are so many motoring guests who come
for a few hours only, dust-laden and travel-stained, only to find that
all the bedrooms and dressing-rooms in the house are being used by the
family and the house guests.

A description of the pool of the Colony Club is hardly within the
province of this chapter, but so many amazing Americans are building
themselves great houses incor