A Chilly wind flaps our skirts about our legs as snuggling our chins into furs, we scud across the wet roadway. Valiant umbrellas bob and jerk in the southerly gusts; men pull their hats over their eyes and turn up their collars; newspaper boys stamp their feet and whistle dolefully between, customers; art union ticket sellers press further back into their corners and tuck rugs about their knees. Overhead, rain clouds, propelled by the fitful wind, move uneasily, ever and anon dashing down bucketsful of sleet.

Now is the time to search wardrobes and delve in boxes for discarded coats, frocks and “knitteds,” which will help people less fortunate than ourselves to face the winter. The charitable organisations are crying out for discarded woollen garments. It would be a crime to leave such hanging while men, women and children here in our town, are shivering.

I myself know of a case where the gift of small winceyette bloomers made out of scraps from pyjamas, brought a smile to the face of the sick mother of a family of little girls. For an hour or two's work and practically no expenditure the giver ensured that those small girls would go adequately clad to school all through the winter.

Ugh! Burr! And other seasonable exclamations. The season of sneezes, harriers, wet boots drying by fires, golf, throat lozenges, dripping umbrellas in porches, cough cures and cabarets is upon us. We knuckle under, most of us, and spend a winter punctuated by growls and grizzles at the type of weather sent to us across the Tasman.

But the few, the lucky few, unembarrassed by responsibilities, financial or otherwise, are busy packing their trunks for a winter abroad, or their suitcases for holidays at our own winter resorts. The travel agencies are noticing a slight lifting in the depression, as are the retailers of travel requisites. Beauty salons find it hard to accommodate all their customers on the day or two preceding the departure of the “Home” boat. Many of our leaders of fashion are thus departing. Indeed, to sit in the lounge of a popular tearoom while the crowd drifts in and out, is to imagine that they have already gone—for such weather as this does not encourage the wearing of our smartest toilettes. Coats of warm cloth or fur, small perky pull-on felts or toques, skin gloves, fleecy lined perhaps, sturdy waterproof shoes—these are the wear.

In the house nothing is cosier than a warm skirt of tweed or afghalaine with a cosy pull-over or cardigan. For foot comfort, change into a pair of felt, patent leather or velvet slippers with heels and cosy fleecy insoles.

In order to get the best in the way of health and enjoyment out of the winter, dress warmly but not stuffily, and take every opportunity of being out of doors. Don't let rain deter you, for rain-coats do their job, and wet shoes and stockings are soon changed. Plenty of exercise, and the courage to face the chilly blasts, take most of the terror out of the worst days of winter. Also, it is the very best method of keeping colds at bay.

If you have been sitting round in the house and suddenly discover that you are feeling thoroughly chilled, do something about it immediately. Have a hot drink and go for a brisk walk. If the hour is late, a bath, hot enough to take away the shivery feeling entirely, and bed, with a hotwater bottle, is the best recipe.