Dear Sir, - In the August Treble number your new correspondent, "Autolycus," in whom I sense a kindred spirit, gives an account of his ideal monopede, and, in doing so, describes mine also. Now, for some time past I have toyed with the idea of trying my hand at a sketch, or rather, two sketches, of my vision, but one difficulty so far confronts me: clear-cut and vivid conception though I have of the girl I cannot for the life of me decide how to array her.
Accordingly, I wonder if some interested reader could oblige with suggestions for summer and winter ensembles for a one-legged girl, aged about twenty-five to twenty-eight, about five feet six inches tall, well proportioned and full chested, but with neat waist and hips, oval face and beautifully waved golden (or black hair, and blue (or brown) eyes, shapely leg and not too tiny foot, as I visualise her.
Such being my deal, you can how guess how greatly interested was in the letter in your current number from the incredibly plucky and original-minded lady who so justifiably signs herself "Monoped Extraordinary." Especially was I struck with the tolerant way she wrote of the misguided "gentlemen" whose amazing lack of finesse led him to take the liberty of laying his hand on her knee, and that too at the first meeting where she had apparently given him scant encouragement. Surely it would have been enough for a would-be worshipper to explain that a deep-seated interest in monopedes as such, based, it may be, on past or present acquaintance with other ladies in her condition, might, as a common bond, justify his venturing to address her in all humility. Lucky for him that she didn't serve him as a much-admired monopede friend of my own told me she would treat any unwelcome swain - lure him to the brink of the Serpentine at its deepest part, trip him up and push him under with her crutches till he drowned.
But, honestly, long and self-revelatory though our delightful friend's letter is, yet how many details she leaves out that would be illuminating to admirers of her kind. Thus, she gives us no clue to her age (I take she's more than a flapper) or her appearance, save her stature, proportions, and that she likes a fairly high heel. Beautiful, I feel very sure she must be, but is she fair or dark, long-haired or shingled? Is her taste in dress simple or recherche? Are her ears pierced and her face well macquillaged? What pattern of crutches does she find preferable for her promenades? Without these details (let her forgive me if I seem impertinent!) it is hard to form the mental image one would desire.
Then, as having important bearing on the development of her outlook, what trouble necessitated such drastic surgical treatment in the first place? Not a sudden catastrophe - motor or air crash, I imagine. Bone or blood disease, long threatening, a of sudden onset? It would be enlightening to know. Anyhow, I hope we hear from her again.
And so to my next point. How many a monopede writes to London Life once and once only? Then, after rousing the interest of readers like myself, often to a high pitch, and sometimes tantalising them with promises of further revelations and, perhaps photographs, lapses into silence again for good! How often we should like to hear more of the fortunes of such-and-such a charming correspondent, e.q., is Miss "One-legged Bride-to-be" (the nearest approach of all, I should imagine, to my ideal) married yet, and, if so, how did her wedding go off? Surely photos of the bridal group appeared in the local press; why not, then, go further and submit one for the delectation of "London Life" readers? Are the delightful "Two One-legged Girls" of last year's Summer Annual still enjoying a tomboy existence, or have they ere now found their level as one-legged housewives, or at least, engaged girls? How fare the musical aspirations of "Peggy," "Anne" and "Elizabeth?" Miss Olive Kent is not, I surmise, herself a London Life reader, and that the photograph and brief biographical note submitted by a correspondent must have been obtained from a press agency. Otherwise, she could hardly be so stony-hearted as to ignore the appeals of so many admirers.
Again, all the monopede correspondents of London Life appear to be young, at most well under thirty. Is there no older lady, already one-legged in the early years of the present century, willing to favour us with reminiscences of her experiences, and perhaps embarrassments, on crutches in the days of voluminous coats and billowing petticoats, when such a mode of locomotion must have been adventurous indeed? By way of inspiration, I enclose a sketch of my girl friend of thirty years ago, as I often used to meet her on summer evenings crossing one of the open spaces near her home.
Note, the costume depicted consists of a thin serge skirt, light fawn or cream-coloured; imitation silk blouse with lace collar (supported under the ears by whalebone; or wire uprights), yoke and sleeves; plain patent-leather or calf shoe, hair elaborately coiled about a wire substructure; and hat of plaited straw or stiff muslin on a wire foundation, lavishly trimmed with artificial flowers and ribbon and secured by long rapier-like pins that were not infrequently employed as weapons of offence on the first day of the January and July "sales." "Make-up" of any kind, even powder, was then absolutely unknown in middle-class provincial circles, and young ladies went about only too often with noses calculated to outshine the Eddystone Lighthouse!
I remain, hoping that my requests meet with sympathetic ears,
Yours truly,
C. D. B.