The dressing table is making a comeback
AN occasional Saturday afternoon indulgence of mine is to stretch prone on the sofa and tune into a black and white movie. You know the sort — with matinee idols and platinum blonde sirens whose lives centre round cocktail parties and dancing at Maxim’s of New York, in an era when heroines puffed little clouds of scent from a crystal bottle before an elegant dressing table.
Nowadays it’s more of a quick flit to Marks & Spencer than a quick-step at Maxim’s; and a slap of make-up, usually hovering over the bathroom sink hoping we won’t drop the back of an ear-ring down the plug hole.



