Dear Sir,–The fashion page of a recent issue of “London Life “ contains a note from “P. R.,” who jokingly says that his fiancée is so fond of gloves that he fully expects her to wear them for bathing before long.
”P. R.” may be interested, and “Miss 1828” highly amused, to hear of my “bathing” rig-out at Brighton in 1890 when I was seventeen.
Very nervous, and accompanied by my mother, I arrived to take my dip. Entering the bathing van, I was undressed, and mother then produced a very old pair of stays, old stockings, shoes without heels, and a wrist-length pair of gloves, all of which could be discarded after the “bathe.” After being tightly laced in the stays (to retain my figure), the stockings, shoes and gloves were put on, and then came my bathing costume Very voluminous, it fastened to my throat, the long legs reaching to my ankles, and the sleeves meeting my gloves.
A hideous cap was clamped on my head, and then I stood shivering on the steps of the van. I thought the jolly stout bathing woman very brave as she stood up to her waist in the water.
As I stood on the steps a screen was lowered over me, and the woman approached and took my hands and steady me into the water, mother anxiously watching, armed with smelling-salts in case the shock of cold water should be too severe for me. When I stood up to my knees in water the screen was drawn up again; and telling me that I was very brave, the bathing woman first pulled up each sleeve of my “costume.” and rubbed the water on my arms (to get me used to it).
She then drew me further into the sea until I was waist-deep and, telling me to hold my breath, she held my shoulders and “dipped” me. I came up gasping, and the bathing woman turned to mother to see if I was to be dipped again; but I was considered to have had enough “bathing” for the time being, and so I again entered the van and was praised for my bravery by mother as she dressed me, Very amusing now, dear sir, but a terrible ordeal at the time, I’m afraid.
Yours truly,
MIRIAM WEEKS.