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The trimming mania is frightful. What do you think of one hundred and twenty yards—three hundred and sixty feet—four thousand three hundred and twenty inches of ribbon in the trimming of one dress?

I wish I could command for an hour the pen of a Jenkins, and give the names of the various ribbons and shades of ribbons, of the laces, their origin, style, and value. (Each kind of lace has a history, which is dear to the heart of the devotee of fashion.) I wish I could describe the hundred and one crimps and frills and things. I wish I could command the pen of one of these amazing writers about woman's dress. I would give you ten pages of it.

I say again, that the trimming mania has become insufferable. Unless a woman has a dressmaker, she must be the veriest slave. She must be at it morning, noon and night.

Gather in one place all the artists, authoresses, and women of finest and highest culture, and how many of them do you suppose could be bribed to go into the street all rigged out in ribbon, gimp, frills, edgings, ruches, fringes, satins, velvets, buttons, nail-heads, etc., etc., etc.

I have met many of the women who may be classed as above, and I cannot now recall one who was fashionably trimmed.

This rage is, in essence, tawdry and vulgar. It is cheap in everything but money.