Eric Reed is
the pen name of writing duo Mary Reed and Eric Mayer, co-authors of the John,
Lord Chamberlain, historical mystery series set in 6th century Byzantium. The Guardian Stones, a World War Two mystery set in rural
Shropshire, England, is their most recent release. Learn more about Eric and
Mary at their website and blog. Today Mary joins us to discuss how women during World War Two made do without their beauty staples.
Making Do
for Makeup
Have you ever noticed how thick and lustrous
women's hair looks in photos taken during the Second World War?
Egg shampoo is commonly touted as an
excellent aid in achieving this effect, but in the spring of 1941 the practice
led to questions in Parliament after a London West End hairdresser was reported
for giving egg shampoos, using as many as four eggs for one treatment.
Hansard, the official record of Parliamentary
proceedings, records that in replying, the Parliamentary Secretary to the
Ministry of Food said enquiries into the case were under way, adding in the
case of such egg shampoos, both hairdresser and client committed an offence
under wartime regulations, by which he meant by willfully using food fit for
human consumption for other purposes.
Beauty aids may not spring immediately to
mind when considering the legendary British Make Do and Mend campaign during
World War Two, but as a boost to general morale they were considered important
to the war effort. It was another area where making do meant exercising great
ingenuity in finding substitutes for what had been commonplace before hostilities
broke out.
While makeup was not rationed, it was both
expensive and hard to find, largely because a number of companies making it
were now using part of their production facilities to manufacture items needed
for the war effort.
Good old-fashioned British ingenuity came
into play and substitutes were found.
In place of lipstick, for every day use at
least, wartime's popular bright red lip coloring was achieved by applying beet
juice or cochineal, although given rationing, the latter must have been more
difficult to obtain than the common root vegetable. Liquid stockings -- brown
tinting for the legs -- replaced real stockings, an item in very short supply.
Eyebrow pencil was used to draw "seams" up the backs of the legs, and
some fashionistas even traced out appropriately shaped faux heels and stocking
tops. For those with less disposable income, there are references to the use of
gravy browning to give the same effect. With general shortages, it must have
been difficult at times to choose between putting gravy on your dinner or your
legs! Burnt cork or boot polish were both reportedly substituted for mascara,
although these sound dangerous to use to me, while baking soda often replaced
deodorant.
Human nature being what it is, such shortages
created openings to make a bit of money, meeting demand in a left-handed
fashion despite stiff legal penalties if caught.
Although women often made do by applying
talcum powder in place of face powder, also in short supply, we should not
therefore be surprised to learn that in March 1942 a question was raised in
Parliament concerning a man prosecuted for illegally manufacturing and selling
the latter. Hansard records he pleaded guilty and was sentenced to a £100 fine
and three months in prison, plus another three months if he did not pay the
fine.
We cannot say what his
clients felt about his conviction and subsequent loss of supplies, but things
would have gone better for him if he had remembered an old Dutch proverb to the
effect that beauty is dross if honesty is lost.
The Guardian
Stones
In mid-1941, children evacuated to the remote
Shropshire village of Noddweir to escape the Blitz begin to vanish.
It was not uncommon for city children faced with rural rigors to run
away. But when retired American professor Edwin Carpenter, pursuing
his study of standing
stones, visits the village and discovers
bloody clothing in the forest, it is clear there is a more sinister
explanation.
The village constable is away on military
duty so the investigation falls to his daughter Grace. Some villagers
see the hand of German infiltrators bent on terror. The
superstitious, mindful of the prehistoric stone circle gazing down on
Noddweir, are convinced malevolent supernatural powers are at work.
And Edwin, determined to help Grace find whatever predator is in play,
runs into widespread resentment over America's refusal to enter
the war.
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