irresistible
to woman as is the Venusberg to men. There, in a fashion shop, one
learns to know woman in a practical way and without any theoretical ado.
Now, if fashion meant nothing than that woman in the heat of her desire
threw off all her clothing - why, that would at least mean something.
But this is not the case, fashion is not plain sensuality, not tolerated
debauchery, but an illicit trade in indecency authorized as proper. And,
just as in heathen Prussia the marriageable girl wore a bell whose
ringing served as a signal to the men, likewise is a woman's existence
in fashion a continual bell ringing, not for debauchees but for
lickerish voluptuaries. People hold Fortune to be a woman - ah, yes it
is, to be sure, fickle; still, it is fickle in something, as it may also
give much; and insofar it is not a woman. No; but fashion is a woman,
for fashion is fickleness in nonsense and is consistent only in its
becoming ever more crazy.
One hour in my shop is worth more than days and years without, if it
really be one's desire to learn to know woman; in my shop, for it is the
only one in the capital; there is no thought of competition. Who,
forsooth, would dare to enter into competition with one who has entirely
devoted himself, and is still devoting himself, as high priest in this
idol worship? No, there is not a distinguished assemblage which does not
mention my name first and last; and there is not a middle-class
gathering where my name, whenever mentioned, does not inspire sacred
awe, like that of the king; and there is no dress so idiotic but is
accompanied by whispers of admiration when its owner proceeds down the
hall - provided it bears my name; and there is not the lady of gentl
.
|
