Judge, 1916-02-26 · page 18 of 28
Judge — February 26, 1916 — page 18: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three satirical pieces about 1920s social conventions and gender dynamics: **"Coming Events" (top cartoon):** Shows a woman with a baby carriage entering a delivery entrance. The accompanying dialogue mocks the fashionable "unemotional" aesthetic among wealthy young women—a fad where showing feelings or enthusiasm was considered uncouth. The satire suggests this affectation is absurdly restrictive and performative. **"The Impoverished Fur Collar":** A man complains that wearing an expensive fur-collared coat while traveling caused service workers (porters, taxi drivers, bellhops) to treat him as wealthy and relentlessly extract tips. The satire critiques both the conspicuous display of wealth and the predatory service industry practices that exploit it. **"Incongruous":** A stage manager notes that an actress's expensive modern dress undermines her character's dramatic moment (being scolded by her "husband"). This mocks the disconnect between high fashion and theatrical authenticity. All three pieces satirize the superficiality and social anxieties of 1920s upper-class life.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
sie SSeS “COMING EV “Oh!” I said. “So it’s that,” Ladded. “Yes,” she replied on the same monotonous level. ‘It’s that. * I cannot show you that I love you. I can- not show the slightest emotion of any sort over anything. I have nothoughts. I have no feelings. I must not express myself in any manner. [I cannot be sorry or be glad. I am not permitted to think of anything. That is the style, you know. I did not start it. I have to live up to it to be in good form.” I bowed. “Darling,” I replied, “1 understand. The unemotional among all beautiful girls like yourself is the latest fad. When do you think it will be over? When shall I come around again and love you in the old-fashioned way?” And she replied: “Possibly—six months. York fad.” Then I began to realize what it was. That is about the life of every New The Impoverished Fur Collar Cp ONT I see you lately with a fur-collared coat on?” Wyzeguy. “Like as not. “Hock it?” “Hock nothing! I'd ‘a’ had to hock it though if I'd kept it any longer. Why, do you know that coat was about to ruin me! My wife gave it to me for Christmas, and I was tickled stiff with it. I wore it around prouder than a peacock for a while. Then I began to notice things. . asked I was on exhibition for a day or so in one of ’em.”” “T first noticed it when I took a little run away from home. Every time I got into a depot the red-caps lined up in solid pha- lanxes and just grabbed my bag right out of my hand. Then when I got into a parlor-car—and those fool red-caps wouldn’t let me go any- where else—the porter just hung around and wrung his hands and smiled till he had to be lubricated copiously so that I might stay in the drawing and not disillusion him too much. When I got off the train the taxi-pirates surrounded me completely and the red-caps (Lcouldn’t dodge those at all) handed me into a machine as if 1 were a royal prince. “T spent more money in those two days of travel than I had ever spent before in ten. That fur-co!lared coat looked like ready money. I presented the appearance of one who would reek dimes and dribble nickels and leak quarters at every pore. I had the look of one who is likely to come down with a silver hemorrhage on the slightest provocation. “So I just put that fur coat away in moth-balls and shan’t take it out again—at least not when I’m going among strangers, or until I’ve saved up a lot more money.” —Strickland Gillilan Incongruous Stage manager—My dear, I wish you would wear a different gown in the second act. Rita Ravenyelp—But that is the latest style full dress and I paid two hundred dollars for it Stage manager—That may be truc, but when your husband says “Woman, you are hiding something from me,” the audience can’t figure out what he means. Simple justice, whether a woman gets it from her photograph or from a male jury, means that she is a chicken no longer. comicbooks.com