Judge, 1911-11-18 · page 6 of 24
Judge — November 18, 1911 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page satirizes the early 1910s fashion trend of "harem skirts"—loose, baggy trousers gathered at the ankles, inspired by Middle Eastern and Asian clothing. The main poem mocks women adopting this style as absurd and impractical, suggesting it makes them waddle unnaturally despite their attempts at elegance. The satire works on multiple levels: it criticizes blind fashion conformity ("Style, style, style! / Its tyranny never flags"), highlights the hypocrisy of Western women adopting "barbarous Turkish" dress while deeming non-Western clothing scandalous, and expresses anxiety about changing gender norms and women's liberation (references to "trouseresse" suggest alarm at women wearing pants). The accompanying cartoons and jokes (the Audobonnet hat, quips about baldness and Sarah Bernhardt's farewell tour) are typical Judge magazine filler—topical humor about contemporary fashions, celebrity gossip, and social observation. The overall message reflects conservative resistance to women's fashion modernization and social change.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“Oh! Jack, isn't it a dear?"" The Song of the Harem Skirt. Words by CAROLYN WELLS. ITH figure shrinking and slim, With manner saucy and pert, A woman walked in unwomanly rags, Wearing the harem skirt. Walk, walk, walk, O’er asphalt, flagging, or dirt; But still with a gait of wobbling pitch, Only achieved by the very rich, She wore that harem skirt. Oh, men, with sisters dear! Oh, men, with mothers and wives! How do you think they're going to look When the harem skirt arrives? THE AUDOBONNET. ich Designed to hold a live bird, w changed from day to day. And it’s, oh, to be a slave Of those barbarous Turkish dogs, Where woman has never a skirt to wear, If these be Christian togs! But why do we talk of Turks— Those phantoms of distant zone? We hardly notice their freakish garb, It seems so like our own! It seems so like our own, Because in the style we keep. Oh, me! that trousers are so dear, And petticoats so cheap! Style, style, style! Its tyranny never flags. And what are its orders? A jupe-Culotte And queer Seraglio rags. A mudhut hat, a scarecrow veil, A haystack of Chinese hair! If a wall be blank, my shadow I hate For sometimes falling there. Oh, but to wear a gown, With silken frou-frou lines, With ruffles billowing round my feet, And swishing train behind! For only one short hour To dress as I used to dress, Before I owned a harem skirt Or heard of a trouseresse! Uncle Ezra Sez: HE first President that starts to sendin’ wireless messages will make a great hit with Congress, When a feller wears a rubber collar it is pretty middlin’ hard to tell where his collar leaves off and his neck begins. “Yes! it strikes me as very dear."” (COMMON charity is about equal parts condescension, cant, and conscience salved with cash. THIS STYLE VOR SWEET SIXTEEN OR SIXTY. At Least That. E’S BALDER than a billiard ball, And so her heart with joy will stir When on her ear the words will fall Of his undying love for her. Excuse for Haste. Visitor (to foreman of print shop) —‘‘Why are your men in such a hurry?”’ Foreman—‘‘We're getting out a time-table for a rail- road and they want to finish it without making any changes."” ARAH BERNHARDT’S many friends are wish- ing her many returns of her present farewell tour. comicbooks.com