ed
lines only.

But when a man is met with who combines with business genius the advantage
of polished manners and evident cultivation, his opinion on any subject
broached at once assumes added weight. Doesn't it?

CHAPTER XXXIII

DRESS

Clothes are to us what fur and feathers are to beasts and birds; they not
only add to our appearance, but they are our appearance. How we look to
others entirely depends upon what we wear and how we wear it; manners and
speech are noted afterward, and character last of all.

In the community where we live, admirableness of character is the
fundamental essential, and in order to achieve a position of importance,
personality is also essential; but for the transient impression that we
make at home, abroad, everywhere in public, two superficial attributes are
alone indispensable: good manners and a pleasing appearance.

It is not merely a question of vanity and inclination. In New York, for
instance, a woman must dress well, to pay her way. In Europe, where the
title of Duchess serves in lieu of a court train of gold brocade; or in
Bohemian circles where talent alone may count; or in small communities
where people are known for what they really are, appearance is of esthetic
rather than essential importance.

In the world of smart society--in America at any rate--clothes not only
represent our ticket of admission, but our contribution to the effect of a
party. What makes a brilliant party? Clothes. Good clothes. A frumpy party
is nothing more nor less than a collection of badly dressed persons.
People with all the brains, even all the beauty imaginable, make an
assemblage of dowds, unless they are well dressed.

Not even the most beautiful ballroom in the world, decorated like the
Garden of Eden, could in itself suggest a brilliant entertainment, if the
majority of those who filled it were frumps--or worse yet, vulgarians!
Rather be frumpy than vulgar! Much. Frumps are often celebrities in
disguise--but a person of vulgar appearance is vulgar all through.

=THE SHEEP=

Frumps are not very typical of America, vulgarians are somewhat more
numerous, but the greatest number of all are the quietly dressed,
unnoticeable men and women who make up the representative backbone in
every city; who buy good clothes but not more than they need, and whose
ambition is merely to be well enough dressed to fit in with their
background, whatever their background may be.

Less numerous,