Friday, 3 August 1877

Some time ago I met Lady Cartier and her daughters, and today they came to me.
Now they have me taking compressed air baths.
In our family we adore one another — and yet it is rare to encounter a Hell more disagreeably irritating than our household.
What was I thinking when I made the plan of going to London! And the Exposition? So much the better — I shall therefore go and spend twenty-five days in Italy.
We were at Musart; there was no one from the last time, but Blanc was with us. I went only for Hall's sake — yesterday I had letters promised me; she must give them to me now.
Moreover yesterday I wrote to Julie de Benkendorff, née Voyeikoff, under the pretext of asking whether she is really going to Wiesbaden and to Biarritz: "I should be so happy to meet you."
And in reality to see how she will answer me. You know that by marrying Benkendorff she is more or less cousin to all the Talleyrand-Périgords — and in Florence, the Baronne de Talleyrand-Périgord holds the foremost salon of the foreign colony. Julie spent time in Florence with her mother before her marriage. It is quite possible that she will go this summer to Carlsbad or Wiesbaden "to slim down," in which case I might go to find her from Soden. She has always been kind to me — an excellent girl, a little mad but good.
Hm... that would be... splendid!!
[Two lines cancelled]
The Mertens and Miss Hall have just this moment come in, and the American brings me a beautiful all-white bouquet.
[Crossed out: Saturday, 5 August 1877]
You perhaps think I passed unnoticed this evening like a dog?
If you think so, it is because you do not know that I had at last the hat for which I had been sighing: neither too large nor too small, round, barely turned up on one side, and all around it a single beautiful white feather. I wore it on my forehead as always, and it had the air of an engraving without departing from the bounds of modern fashion. Know, O peoples, that a hat — unless it be a little bonnet in the English-girl style — must be raised more at the back than the front. Nothing is more hideous than a round hat set to the back of the head. Rembrandt had no idea what caricatures his paintings would produce. In a word, whatever the fashion, never wear round hats except on the forehead, with the line rising from the forehead toward the hair — or else closed hats, which are placed properly to the back, like bonnets.
Toques are the exception and have no rule but caprice. There are also historical hats, the most graceful and becoming of which are the Watteau style, the style I have adopted.
Now for the street, in Paris I wear small quiet straws, with a light gauze scarf around them and a sprig of lily of the valley. The whole well-matched, light, sleek. For travelling and rainy days, a small rather pointed felt with a cock's feather. Be careful not to suppose I wear felts with drooping brims! That would be horrible; my brims are like a man's — even slightly more rounded. Finally, as an extravagance, on a day of gaiety and good humour, I shall put on a monstrosity of a hat — quite flat, descending to the nape, coming to a point on the forehead, lifting gracefully on each side without turning back; it has the look of a hat with round, slightly inward-drooping brims, that would tilt to a point in front, from beneath a white bow from which two gilded goose feathers emerge. All around, a veil of white gauze with which one does as one pleases.

Notes

Compressed air baths (bains d'air comprimé): a fashionable 19th-century pneumatic therapy in which patients sat in pressurized chambers; prescribed for throat and pulmonary conditions.
The Talleyrand-Périgord: one of the great names of the French aristocracy, bearers of the legacy of the famous statesman Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord (1754–1838).
Watteau style: hats inspired by the pastoral and fête galante paintings of Antoine Watteau (1684–1721); characterized by soft, romantic silhouettes evoking the ancien régime.