STHE SUNDAY OEEGONTAN. PORTLAND. FEBRUARY 14, 1909.
U N
D
S COVER E
THE
ARTIST'S MODEL
BEAUT
5
0
Her Horoscope
BY MINERVA MEARES.
f
X CTOBtK 2V was me naiai aay or xnis preny c
f U mode!, and though she is of the Oriental type of
beauty, ner naiure is iar uom uiuuknu one
shrewd, venturesome, positive in her opinions.
f The eyes are well apart, with a suggestion of the
upward slant at the outer corner indicative of the
Oriental and the face shows distinct strength of
f character, which she needs to balance the impetuosity
? of her natal sign.
She Is prone to go to extremes In everything, is of
a highly nervous temperament, daring and original .
In her ideas, impatient of criticism or restraint, and f
t the complexities and opposition which shewill meet 5.
t In life will but accentuate her aggressiveness and t
1 self-will.
r While the shape of the lower part of the face shows
determination, the great vitality of her natal
sign-will .create a stormy character, buoyant and $
J' optimistic one moment and profoundly depressed
t the next.
t She has a clear and logical mind, and though she
will be dictatorial and very independent she will ' ,
S aspire to the better and higher things of life, and
t much of her emotional impatience with "things as
5 they are" will arise" from her failure to realize her
j ideals. Her nativity gives her good taste in dress and
j an impressive personality.
Eren though her temperament be ardent, as Is seen I
in the sensuous lips, soft eyes and cleft chin, her
mind will be analytical at all times that is to say, $
j mentally she will never lose grasp of the tiller, al-
muu(;ii icuiciaiiicutaiij sue may neaa our toward
seas and storms, little heeding the risks and ?
dangers.
Her best chance of harmonious marital conditions
would be in union with one born in the sign of
either Virgo or Pisces, the former governing from
August 22 till September 23 and the latter from
February 19 till March 21:
D
E A U
O0!YRt.CHTS!9.TBY:THE WW,YpgKtHElUl D1COJ
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H
S
Cultivation of Beauty.
w
OMEN do not realize that beauty Is largely
a matter of habit. While beauty cannot be
acquired throuj?h habit, yet that which
makes for beauty in facial expression can
be greatly Influenced by bablt, the unlovely
eliminated, the lovely retained.
In the first place, American women are naturally
vivacious, and When they talk they gesticulate with
their hands and talk with their features as well as
with their lips and vocal organs. The result Is that
even the very young girls of our country are noted
for the strained, eager expression of their faces,
which settles quickly Into fixed lines and wrinkles.
The rfiasseuse Is then called In, but the years of tens
muscular effort have done their work pretty thor
oughly and artificial aids to beauty conie too late to
be' very beneficial.
English girls are active and healthy, but they are
taught the art of being still. Consequently English
faces do not wrinkle till very late In life, and then
comparatively little. American girls, on the other
hand, wrinkle the forehead, frown, wrinkle the nose,
also the eyes, purse up the mouth and play a game of
complicated gymnastics with every facial muscle
generally. This Is not at all needed. You are steal
ing from words the eloquence that is their due, and
language that is quiet and collected is far more Im
pressive than "when accompanied by excited and often
exaggerated" expressions and mannerisms.
Yawning, for Instance, is natural and beneficial.
But when you yawn do not screw up the eyes, stretch
the mouth and corrugate the brow with a network
of anguished lines. That Is not necessary. The yawn
will materialize and fulfil its mission quite us satis
factorily without constantly undermining your good
looks.
Do not depress the corners of the mouth. When
thinking intently about your shopping list or the
style of your new gown do not assume the expres
sion of a feminine Atlas and look as though you had
the weight of the universe on your shoulders. Think
as intently as you wish, but meanwhile let your face
"rest." Study your mental attitude. Keep your
mind and nerves calm, keep the face calm, and yon
will find that the habit of calmness will be a good
one and that your general poise will improve. And
your appearance will Improve vastly.
These bad habits are but good habits inverted. So
transpose them and give the same earnestness to the
practice of that which is beneficial as you do to the
mistaken intensity with which yon carry the little
responsibilities of everyday life.
One does not have to live one's life in a few hours.
'There are more days. And then will come the long,
long rest Look up where are the great revolving
spheres
Sure stars and solo o teer by.
There is no haste, no confusion there. Instead
there Is the great, silent system, swift and strong and
sure. Just forget now aid then the "thundering
anthem of our clanging cars." Check your racing
thoughts and bring them down to minuet time, gra
cious and sweet and stately.
Stand porter at the door of your thought and keep
out hurry, discord. The mind has immeasurable
compelling and impelling power, and, as like seeks
like, the mind that keeps itself clean, serene, will at
tract conditions that are sweet and tranquil and
lovely.
And all this your face wiU reflect.
At times I see upon sweet, pale faces
A light begin
' To tremble, as If from holy placas.
And shrines within.
HOW SHE EARNS HER DAILY BREAD.
T
HE rays from the skylight fall upon the girl's
head. Tense, immovable she stands, one arm
clutching the crimsondraperies about her bared
shoulders, the other stretched backward by her '
Side. '- Her sandalled feet have been arrested in flight, one is
advanced, the other raised upon the toes ready for the
next step. Scarcely swaying, her form rigid, her features
strained to an expression of intense eagerness, she stands,
hearing, heeding nothing of the sounds of the street with
out as they float in and down about her.
That will do." The voice comes somewhere from a
far corner of the studio. The tense figure relaxes and
suddenly drops in a heap upon the platform. Then the
g)rl pulls herself together, rises, and, one hand still clutch
ing the draperies, approaches an easel in the far corner.
"Shall you need me to-morrow? she asks.
The man at the easel turns.
"I shall need you again to-day. Rest a moment" The
girl obey. She finks into the nearest chair, every muscle
relaxed. She shakes back the hair from her forehead and
closes her eyes. The man at the easel glances at her care
lessly. The abundant wavy hair which gleams like copper
in the sunlight Is dull and colorless, the long, pallid face,
the dark, heavy lids, the severe chin, these convey no sense
of beauty. The mouth only -suggests possibilities. Ex
ceedingly full are the Hps, and vividly red, a blotch of
crimson against the white skin. The long throat Is perfect
in contour, tie bared, ihoulderj curve in fcraclouJ lines,
The recumbent figure starts as the man leaves the easel
and approaches. The heavy lids lift, revealing eyes of
hazel, queer, penetrating eyes, -Scarcely ever fully open,
but lurking under their lashes and gazing through half
veiled.
"Do yoa want the runner again?" It is a wistful, shy
voice, oddly at variance with the voluptuous form revealed
as she rises.
"No, I want a new pose. Come." She follows him to
the platform.
"Sit on that chair." She drops into the low seat
"Now draw your knees together, pin that stuff about
your shoulders and put your elbows on your knees, your
chin in your hands." Silent, she obeys.
"Now look at me, hard raise your eyes a little." The
man draws back as he speaks. h
"You are Cleopatra, Circe, a woman who wants me to
come to you; you are drawing me by your eyes, your
mouth, your smile."
Who doubted this glrfs beauty? Responsive to every
word, the hazel eyes have grown subtle, alluring, the curves
of cheek and chin have softened, the muscles of the body
relax, the vhrld month Is smiling, drawn into seductive
lines. The man catches a paper and outlines rapidly in
charcoal.
1 will call it TThe Enchantress,' " he mutters. At the end .
of a half hour he says: .
"you can go now." Again the tense figure relaxes, Tien
the girl raises her arms high above her head. They are
wonderful arms, firm, white, tapering. The man ap
proaches her.
"You may come to-morrow at two." He drops two dol
lars into her hand. She takes them with a murmured
thanks and goes into the tiny closet denoted by courtesy
a dressing room. When she emerges she is clad for the
street. The artist is again at his easeL He does not no
tice her. Slowly she descends into the . street. It is
almost dusk. She walks rapidly'through the crowds, turns
from the main thoroughfare: Into an unfrequented side
street. At the grocer's shop she purchases cheese, bread,
butter, olives and a bottle of cheap wine, and carries the
things to her room.
It is a large room, up under the eaves of an old house.
The roof slopes, and it is very bare, save for the hangings
and pillows she has contrived. But it has two windows
with seats and a view far over the houses below. She lays
aside her jacket and begins to arrange the meal. Then
when all is ready she draws the tiny table to the side of
her couch, takes off her street dress, puts on a flowered
gown and curls up on the pillows, munching sandwiches
as she dreams.
This has been a good day. In the morning she went to
the man who gave her her first work. He Is hard man to
work. for. He arranges her in positions that suit his
fancy, as he would a jointed doll. She shrank from him
at first and he emptied vials of wrath upon her. - Then she
found that he regarded her as an. automaton, and she
yielded to his jerking her arms and head into position. He f
is very moody, very rude, very startling, but he pays. And
he lets her alone.
He is not like the man in the studio over his own, who
- tried to embrace and kiss her the first day she posed for
him. There are many like that, but she can manage Uiem
now. She curves scornful lips as she remembers how she
sneered at him. And, curiously enough, he seemed to
respect her for it. And then, this last man, for whom
she posed this afternoon, he is a good man. He gives her
one" dollar for every hour, and he pays right away. If
only he would talk to her a littlel
Her thoughts are back with the days before she became
a model when she was in the big store. It was hard,
hard work and she was desperately poor, but there was
life in the place and she was not as lonely as now. She
recalls the day a man passed her counter and returned and
asked her to pose for him. She was half afraid, but she
went one Sunday. He was cross, but it seemed so easy,
and in two hours she had earned a dollar and a halfl
Then she left the store.
She had a hard time at first; models were plenty and
she knocked at many doors in vain. Then when she was
In despair work came enough to Justify the room under
the eaves and the flowered gown. She knows how to pose
now. Her plastic features can assume the chaste look of
a Diana or the leer of a Bacchante at will." She lives the
characters she pictures, the emotions within the flexIbU
body answer the thought of the artist. Sometimes she Is
half afraid of the spirit that rises within her.
But every night as she comes to the room under the
eaves and the enthusiasm leaves her and she is very tired,
for the strain exhausts her, she is very lonely. The cheese
and bread are eaten the glass is empty. The moon streams
in at the windows, and she lies motionless and stares out
at the sky. "A model's best years are between eighteen
and twenty-five.". She heard a man say that yesterday.
She is twenty-two'. There are three more years before she
goes down to seventy-five cents, then to fifty cents an
hour. Three years, and then she pricks her nails Into the
palms of her hands.
Sometimes," she thinks half shyly, "artists marry their
models" Her cheeks grow rosy in the darkness, rer
haps perhaps before that time comes some one may care
enough for her. She turns and hides her face in her arm.
In a few moments she is asleep.
When she awakes she is cold. She rises miserably and
creeps under the covers. A clock in the distance chimes
two. The moon has gone it is quite dark. The hope
that caressed her has vanished. The ever present feal
remains. Three years, and then not even the room be
neath the eaves; two or three more, and then what then!
She turns again and places her head upon her arm, but
this time her pillow is wet with tears.
A charming portrait of a milliner's model, painted
from life by Mr. Leo Mielziner, will be published next
Sunday.