Woman's Own November 27 1957 Page 35

click Dangerous Mink for the full story

or continued on page 36

My World by Beverley Nichols

'In the heart of every girl there lurks a secret longing to be treated, once in awhile, as a princess by a prince'

 I AM beginning to get a bit tired, of these 'Angry Young Men.'

Surely it is time we heard about 'Angry Young Women,' for a change. They really have cause for anger, Let me explain what I mean by way of a story. 

The other night I was an obscure member of a party which was graced by the presence of a royal princess. Even if I wrote royal gossip, which I don't, I should have nothing to report on this occasion at all. 

My contact with the Princess was limited to a handshake, a charming smile, and an enquiry as to when I was going to write another whodunit. After which, I saw permitted to retire behind a potted palm, and sip my champagne in tranquillity. 

Simple, human interest 

HOWEVER, when a princess is at a party, one's eyes stray in her direction. It isn't a question of snobbery, but of simple human interest. So, it was natural that from time to time, throughout the evening, I found myself watching the Princess  and not only the Princess, but the young men around her. 

Let us study one of these young men in detail. He happens to be on Christian name terms with the Princess, and he has often danced with her till the small hours of the morning. But when she greets him he stands up straight, and he bows. At the same time, with a swift gesture, he deftly disposes of the cigarette he is holding in the nearest ashtray. 

When the Princess wishes to sit down, he is at hand with a chair. When she takes out her cigarette case his lighter is instantly ready for her. He does not smoke without asking her permission.

Marks of courtesy 

 CAREFULLY dressed, his bow is perfectly tied, his trousers have a knife-edge, his shoes sparkle. And if you think that this is merely a question of being able to afford a valet, you are quite wrong. 

This particular royal escort, who lives in Chelsea, has no valet. His clothes go to a cleaning and pressing establishment, and are returned to his small flat in a brown paper parcel. 

He is alert for every change of mood.  If the Princess rises, to walk through the crowd, he is at her side, protecting her. He seems to know, instinctively, whether she wants to dance, or simply to sit and talk. And when they are talking, he does not monopolize the conversation. He knows how to listen. 

Does this strike you as absurdly stilted and unnatural, the mere antics of a courtier? I hope not. I hope, indeed, that it makes you angry, when you compare it with the way in which you yourself are so often treated by the angry young man type. 

You see, I cherish an old fashioned idea that in the heart of every girl there lurks a secret longing to be treated, once in a while, as a princess. To be courted, and handled preciously, to be treated with reverence, and to have courtesy lavished on her.

The fact that in these days that sounds almost funny, is merely a proof of the depth to which masculine manners have sunk. 

But if you had been at that party, and had watched that young man, you wouldn't have thought him funny. There was nothing in the smallest degree effeminate or ridiculous about him, even if he did stand up and bow from the waist. 

He was merely behaving as any young man should behave in the presence of a princess, for that matter, or in the presence of any girl who feels that she is something of a princess herself. And I think every girl has the right to feel precisely that. 

A time for anger 

 THAT'S why I'd like to see I you get angry when men come up to you with cigarettes sticking to their lower lips, hands thrust into their pockets. 

That's why I'd like to see you get angry when they don't even bother to rise from an armchair when you enter the room. 

That's why I'd like to see you get angry when they take you out for the evening in badly pressed flannel trousers, and unpolished shoes with knotty laces. 

After all, they expect you to look fresh and smart and pretty. They wouldn't hesitate to say something sarcastic if you appeared with nicotine stains on your fingers and bits of old nail varnish peeling off. Why should you do all the work? 

We want to hear less about the Angry Young Men and a lot more about the Angry Young Women. For they really have something to be angry about. 

ANOTHER ARTICLE BY BEVERLEY NEXT WEDNESDAY