A Vanishing type of make-up which the dress censor would not pass.
(The Daily Mail [London, UK] - 9th August, 1907)
The Dress Censor
"Hat too big; waistcoat too loud; trousers too baggy; boots ridiculous!" Those were the remarks of the dress censor as the comedian forward to sing his song at a dress rehearsal at a West End music-hall.
The comedian muttered something to the effect the dress "suited the song," but the censor shook his head, and the singer recognised that there was no alternative but to bow to that decision. Then, and anxious not to wound the feelings of the singer any more than necessary, the censor loped up to him and somewhat apologetically remarked: "Wouldn't do at all, old boy; couldn't possibly pass it; try again, you will soon hit something!"
The comedian in question had signed a contract to appear at the particular hall at a considerable salary. Yet, it was plainly put to him by an individual whose voice the general public had never heard, but unless he produced a less eccentric costume he could not appear before the public.
AN ARDUOUS AND RESPONSIBLE POST
Although the theatrical dress censor is virtually unknown outside his immediate sphere of action, he fulfils an important and responsible post, though in many respects a by no means enviable one. He is to be found at all the big music-halls and theatres and his work is at once varied and arduous. On no account must he allow an actor or an actress to appear before the flootlights in a costume that would in any way offend public taste. What with pleasing the management and the public and putting things right with the bohemian spirits he has to deal with, the censor's life is not all honey.
Indeed, before now well-known comedians, whose dress he has declared unsuitable, have threatened to cancel their contracts after telling the censor in very definite language what they think of him; while the leading lady will throw her head into the air and absolutely refuse to appear in such "a silly dress."
But the dress censor's work to-day is not only to pass, what he believes to be suitable costumes, but design dresses. For instance, should the hall which he is connected with decide to produce a sketch, a spectacle, or a pantomime, he is at once called upon to design suitable dresses for everyone, from the least prominent performer to the principal characters.
The moment he learns the subject of the sketch he at once instructs his designers or artists, and numerous sketches are submitted to him for his approval. These have frequently to be redrawn or considerably altered. A point that he must not overlook here is that the leading or principal actor should be at once apparent by his dress. As one can easily detect an officer not so much by the design of his costume as by the superior cloth and the little finishes, so should the public be able to detect at once the leading characters of the sketch or spectacle by their costume alone.
After the designs have met with approval they are passed on to the costumiers, and in due course the dresses are delivered. These are placed on dummies and then critically examined, and it often happens that many of them have to be returned for alteration.
It is here gratifying to note that with very few exceptions all this work is now done in this country, it being seldom found necessary to send to Paris for theatrical dresses. In the case of a single spectacle the dresses alone often represent an outlay of £15,000. Naturally, every care is taken of these costumes, and they are stocked in special wardrobes of immense size. Indeed, the theatrical dress censor at some of the big halls could lay his hands immediately upon 1,000 or 5,000 dresses.
This censorship over the dress of those who appear nightly at the music halls and places of entertainment has done much to tone down the absurdities in costume that characterised the comedian's dress of, say, a decade ago. Take the coster costume. The coster comedian of to-day emulates the better type of coster in his "Sunday best," and does not exaggerate the 'pearlies' or buttons.
At the same time, if we critically examine the dress of the comedians of to-day we discover inaccuracies - that is to say, so far as the particular period or style they imitate is concerned. This is caused not by ignorance, but by the difficulty of securing a correct costume; which is at the same time original and effective. As Mr. Clarkson's manager pointed out to the writer, a comedian may go to him with the intention of obtaining a costume suitable for a French song. After he has selected it, he finds that another singer is wearing a similar outfit, and then is decided to alter the hat or the coat. This probably has to be again changed to meet the wishes of the management of the hall, and in the end it is impossible to tell whether the singer is a Frenchman, an Alpine climber; or an Italian brigand, so far as his make-up is concerned.
We have an instance of the modern exaggeration in dress in Mr. Harry Lauder, the popular Scotch comedian. In one of his characters he appears in a Glengarry cap, a Highlander's jacket, kilt, Royal Horseman's top boots, and huge spurs. Now, no Scotchman wearing kilts would appear in top boots or even a Glengarry cap. But this departure from strict accuracy, instead of being a drawback, is, in his case, a decided help, making his comical and humorous manner all the more pronounced. That clever comedian Mr. George Robey is fond of accentuating fashion. For instance, a little while ago hats with small crowns were the rage. Mr. Robey promptly appeared in one with the crown not much larger than a thimble. We all know that the dandy is fond of his cane, but Mr. Robey's cane is at once very short and not much thicker than a piece of twine.
Many of our comedians have discovered, after many trials, that one particular style of dress suits them, and only one, Mr. Whit Cunliffe often appears now in a brown frock coat and trousers, and a large silk hat that is decidedly far from being up to date. Yet it certainly suits him. While he was at the Pavilion, the conductor there, who is a great authority on the latest modes, said to him: "Mr. Cunlifle, why do you wear a silk hat that is absolutely out of date? Now this is the latest style" showing the comedian his own hat. Mr. Cunliffe promptly purchased one, but found it did not suit him, and went back to the hat of ten years ago.
Mr. Walter Monroe, the famous Irish comedian, believes that it is impossible to portray the Irish character without side-whiskers. The dress he prefers is a claret-coloured long frock-coat suit and brown boots. These are a few instances of present-day exaggerations, but there are many comedians who could wear the same costume in the street as on the stage without attracting the slightest notice, a thing which would have been impossible ten years ago.
H. J. SHEPSTONE.