Picture Play Magazine (Sep 1919 - Feb 1920)

100 Picture-Play Magazine — Advertising Section Eight Rooms and a Bath Because Piso's is a real help — day or night, in preventing winter's most frequent ills. It allays coughs and hoarseness and soothes irritated "tickly" throats. Keep it always in the medicine cabinet. It may save a weary trip to the drug store at night. 30t nt your drv.qqis 's. Contains no opiate Good for young and i PISO'S for Coughs & Colds Beautifully Curly, Wavy Hair Like "Nature's Own" Try the new way — the Silmerine way — and you'll never again use the ruinous heated iron. The curliness will appear altogether natural. Liquid Silmerine is applied at night with a clean tooth brush. Is neither sticky nor greasy. Perf-ctly harmless. Serves also as a splendid dressing for the hair. Directions with bottle. At your druggists. */2 Price $2.5p SEND NO MONEY If You Can Tell it From a J GENUINE DIAMONDSendifback] To prove that our bine-white MEXICAN DIAMOND closely resembbs the finest genuine South African Diamond (costing 50 times as rrrach), with same DAZZLING RAINBOWFIRS, ("uaranteed 20 yrs.) we will send this Ladies Solitaire Ring with one carat gem, (Catalogue price $4.98) for Hail Price to Introduce, S2. 60, plus War Tax 13c. Same thing but Tents. Heavy Tooth Belcher Ring, (Cataloge price $6.26) for $3.10, plus WarTaxlSe. Mounting areour finest 12 karat go'4 filled. Mexican Diamonds are GUARANTEED FOR 20 YEARS. SEND NO MONEY. Just mail postcard or this ad., state size and we w'll mail at once C. O. D. If not fully pleased, return in 2 davs for MONEY BACK, less handling charges. A ^t quick; offer limited; only one to a customer. Write for FRFE Catalog. AGENTS WANTED. MEXICAN DIAMOND IMPORTING CO. Dept. CD? Las Cruces, N. Mex. ( Exclusive controllers Mexican Diamonds) THE LUCK OF ALSACE Stork Pin Sterling Silver An artistic piece < f jewelry in great vogue in France. About double size of illustration. Price $3.00 Each At your dealers or postpaid on receipt of price. Clay-Adams Company 100 Fifth Avenue Dept. 59 New York Continued J any well-fitted department store. The furniture in the studio storeroom is quite as varied, there is quite as much of it, and it is quite as systematically arranged. We walked down between rows of rockingchairs, past a file of dressing tables, another of sideboards. There were children's high chairs, invalids' wheel chairs, and babies' cradles. There was finely upholstered furniture and some that must have come from the slums. "Of course, every new picture has to have some brand-new furniture or fittings of some sort," Miss Hammond said, "but it does seem as though almost everything that could be needed is right here." There was one case full of telephones, wall and table telephones, dainty white-enameled instruments for a boudoir, English telephones, the kind, you know, that have both the receiver and transmitter on the same bar and into which you ask politely "Are you theah ?" instead of bawling "Hello !" "I don't see what any well-regulated home would need that you couldn't find here," observed Mr. Metcalf, who had been trailing quietly along behind. "There's everything from doormats with 'God Bless Our Home' on them to a matchbox for the kitchen." He picked up one of the latter so natural that it would make any kitchen scene look real — I'll bet you can remember a time when your own kitchen had one like it — a cat made of sand paper with gilt letters advising everybody to "Scratch My Back." "And meet our friend Bones," the leading man advised suddenly, as we rounded a corner. Miss Hammond and I gave two loud gasps and retreated. There was a skeleton. "To keep in the closet," Mr. Metcalf said persuasively. "Every upto-date apartment has one, no home is quite complete without." We refused to pay any more attention to him and went on downstairs to where we found Miss Elvidge playing with a bear. He was in a cage, of course (which didn't look any too strong to me), and he was waiting to play his part in another scene. In spite of a pessimistic caution printed beside his cage, "Don't monkev with the bear !" she rom pa^e 55 was poking a slim pink forefinger between the bars. We insisted on her coming away with us. It seems that at the World Studio it isn't safe to leave an apartment a minute without impressing upon the minds of the sceneshifters that it is to be left intact. Otherwise, the instant you turn your back, some industrious souls are likely to come along and break it up into walls again and file your living room and front hall away in the storeroom. Scenes that are still to be used are carefully labeled "ALIVE." It was a bit of a shock to come back to "our apartment" and find Mr. Metcalf enjoying a brief noonday rest, stretched out on two of the chairs and protected by one of the big signs. It was so unnecessary, too. Nobody would ever think he was a dead one. The casting director happened along just then, to look over this particular apartment. I glanced longingly through its spacious rooms, light, airy, eight of them together and not one on an air shaft, and I recalled the third floor back that one apartment-house superintendent had intimated might possibly be for rent next spring. Its rooms were so tiny that it wouldn't be safe to crowd in another coat of paint and its outlook was as interesting as the scenery from a subway train. Then I looked back again at the library with its paneled walls, the correct little reception room, and the gracious dining room. I thought of the acres of walls in the storeroom any of them could be made up into a three-room-kitchenette-and-bath while you were thinking about it. Of course, Fort Lee is rather far away from New York for a commuter, still "What would you charge to build me a nice, cosy little apartment?" I asked. The casting director's eyes wrinkled all up in friendly, twinkly little creases. "Well, this one cost us about twenty thousand dollars," he said, "but we might be able to get you up something simple, but homelike, that we could let you have — with studio floor space for — well, say four or five thousand a month." And there you are ! There is no way out of the apartment situation.