Judge — August 27, 1910 — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

JUDGE The Fascinations of the Advertisement Girl "CLEOPATRA never thrilled the being of her adorers with ecstasy so fine as that which moves me at sight of the radiant angel whose physi- cal perfection is exploited in the advertis- ing columns of the widely circulated peri- odicals, Whether she stand in an attitude erory day more queenly than the finest gesture of Semiramis beside a gas range sold on the in- stallment plan, or exploit some ten- der curve of her sculptural arm in the use of scented soap, or merely stand in pensive listlessness beside an automobile of late design, ever she ns more to me than Juliet was to Romeo. All_ women, pared with the ad- vertisement girl, seem to me t less, insipid, faded. I have fed my fancy upon my darling until my only food of love With what mute appeal to the noblest in stincts of my nature does she not flash her eyes into mine over the sewing ma- e which has had the enterprise to monopolize the last cover page of my favorite ten-cent inspiration! The in- expressible delicacy of her features seems love-lit with a shy surprise at me, while I study for her sake the shut- tle which never wears out and the rotary spool-pin which never allows the thread to break—or is it the needle?—when the cloth is pull- ed out. I could make for her the sacrifice of Parsifal for his beloved. I have pursued her with the eagerness of Apollo chasing Daphne, and with the same futil- ity, through an- nouncements of pure, refreshing, antisep- tie cream prepara- tions. I have noted, with all the excite- ment of David Cop- perfield discovering Dora in curl papers, that my divinity of the advertisements has her full share of woman's insatiable curi- “Don’t you want soft, clean, and fluffy hair?’’ That is one query she never wearies of putting me as I grow giddy from entanglement in the interminable coils that flow the length of a full column of larg type. ‘Do you want the rosy complexi of youth?’ That is another of her tantali ing questions a3 the bow of her upper lip me: com: trating ‘that without ¢ hands, human meaningless the action she is marble whiteness of teeth disclosed in the eternal By ALEXANDER HARVEY Mlustrations from actual advertisements. tendency of late to be found in the eumpany « mney well-dressed youths ‘whom I Tea defines itself against the marble whiteness of teeth disclo: in the eternal smile. And, oh! her tailored waists, when she conde- scends to demonstrate how easy it is for every woman to have a perfect figur: Perhaps my darling, in her most gracious mood, is truly herself only when illustrat ing that without the action of the hands human movement is meaningless. To begin with, she possesses the one perfect arm in the world. I have studied it quite to the shoulder, now with reference to the me of a toilet powder that allays irritation, again in proof of the efficacy of hair-dyeing combs; and Helen of Troy herself had an elbow less rounded, a wrist less tapering. Rut it is the hand of the advertisement girl that holds me altogether. The hands of this incomparable creature are perpetually playing their toneless music on cakes of soap or the lids of flour barrels in sympho- nies finer than any of Beethoven's. Her on which her fugitive message some impalpable distinction from the circum- hat she is the advertisement itl method of substituting the language of the fingers for that of the lips, of speaking to the eye with the assistance of the thumb, of expressing by silence more eloquent than any words all her secret thoughts has made me expert in the merits of sugar wafers, open plumbing, and court plaster. For her dear sake I have learned the merits of countless kinds of candy and baking pow- der. And al- ways she ex- ults in the charm of her own elusive- ness, for I nev- er know her truly, never bathe my spirit in the fountain of her feeling, never lose the sense that, after all, she mocks me. What an exquisite and sanitary paradise she dwells in, with its motor cars adaptable to every purpose to which a high-grade automo- bile can be put, its breakfast foods served by the most obsequious of lackeys, its phono- graphs perpetually rav- ishing the ear! Even the writing paper on which her fugitive message blesses each correspondent—she never writes to me— derives some impalpable distinction from the circumstance that she is the advertisement girl. Hold the shect to the light, I read, and note the beauti- ful, uniform texture; but I never do that, because her complexion is enough. She gets it through the medium of a proprietary article I envy for its inti- mate association with herself, pre- cisely as her teeth —kept free from acid and polished refresh ingly— make my heart ache. See with how absolute an ease she avails herself of the vacuum cleaner with- out taking the carpet or the rugs from the floor. Now she is bending, with a re- gality more queenly than Marie Antoin- ette’s, over a mattress which, although its weight is fifty-three pounds, dissolves like vapor at her touck. In the presentation of the merits of varnish, again, she is, like Cynthia, too earnest and too sweet ever to be denied. There is never a trace of awkwardness in the advertisement girl, upon whose fea- tures, when she is interested enough in ribbon lace ties to show me her incredible feet, is stamped the pride of Rome. Nor is my love of the advertising pages of that “She gets her com plexion through the medium of a proprietary article i envy for its inti mate association with herself.” tis the hand of the advertisement girl that holds me altogether." without taking the carpet or the rugs from the floor.”