Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1944)

If you think they're unnecessary in these urgent days, see what this star WHEN I was young and money at our house was none too plentiful, Mother used to keep a “treat box” on the table in the front hall. Into it went all the pennies that came into the house — change from the milkman, the grocer, the paper boy and so on. The rule was that not one of those pennies was to be spent for anything “useful” or “everyday.” They were for birthday ice cream and funny little presents, especially for “disappointment presents.” If anyone had a disappointment— got an unexpectedly low grade at school, wasn’t invited to “the big party” or had hurt feelings for some other reason — the rest of us plotted to open the treat box. Out of it would come a bright new scarf for the disappointed one or a silly pottery animal to make us all laugh or maybe just a bottle of olives to make us fe’el festive at dinner. The best present I remember having from the treat box was a couple of yards of pink ruffles! I had wept because I was to attend a children’s party and “all the other girls would have ruffled dresses.” Out of the box came the pennies for the ruffles to bedeck the old dress. They were wonderful ruffles! I remember that Mother said, “Ruffles are important — on a dress and on our lives.” At the time I thought it was funny to talk about ruffles on our lives. Now I know what she meant. For right now we have to make use of the little things to brighten drab wartime, to keep alive the habits of gracious living and to keep our faith in the fact that we shall have that kind of living again one day. The girl in a factory who wears dungarees needs a rose-colored housecoat for the hours when she is resting at home. She needs to do fragrant things to her face and hair and bright things to her nails. She needs a touch of frivolity on her date dress and most of all, probably, she needs a silly hat to make her feel giddy. Not so long ago Mrs. John Wayne bought the most impudent hat. Every time I saw her wearing it, I burst out laughing. Not because it was ridiculous and ugly, you understand. But because it was pretty and amusing and perky. The day before I was to leave for my last Army camp tour a large box with a bow on it arrived at my door. Inside was The Hat. Mrs. Wayne had sent it to me “for luck.” I discarded the hats I had bought to wear on the tour and wore that one every day that I was gone. I know my tour was more successful for that friendly, funny wisp of millinery. It made me feel gay and made me able to spread gaiety. And the boys, too, commented on my mad little topper. Such little things give us a lift these days! Don’t discount them. They’re important! Of course, our “ruffles” can’t be extravagances. We need our money to buy War Bonds. So, since we can’t create many bright spots with things we buy, we’ll have to create them with things we do. This takes ingenuity. Do you know, I think eating is one of the most important things we do for fun nowadays. I’ve always adored meal time. Dinner time is the nicest time of the day at our house, with the whole family assembled, relaxed and amused. I like to draw it out as long as possible and I always hope someone will have a funny story to tell. I’m a pushover for funny stories and if I hear a good one I’ll find myself laughing aloud at the mere memory of it. Funny stories make good trimmings for a family meal. I T’S especially important to make occasions of dinners now that we can’t have many “occasions” of other sorts. This is particularly true for the girl who lives alone or shares an apartment with one or two other girls. Don’t fall into the drab feminine habit of eating “just any old thing” in the kitchen. Put up the bridge table in the living room. Lay it with a bright cloth. Light some candles. Put the family geranium on the table. Tuck parsley around the scrambled eggs to make them look pretty. And put some powder on your face and a bow in your hair for the same reason. If you think this last gesture is silly because there is no one to ( Continued on page 76)