Alexina darted quick curious glances at them as she walked
rapidly along. In front of every saloon was a group of young men almost
fascinatingly common to Alexina's cloistered eyes, their hats tilted over
their foreheads at an indescribable angle, rank black cigars in the corners
of their mouths, or cigarettes hanging from their loose lips, leering at
"bunches" of girls that passed unattended, appraising them cynically,
making strident or stage-whispered comments.
A great many girls had cavaliers, and these walked with their heads tossed,
unless drooping toward a padded, shoulder; and they wore perhaps a coat or
two less of make-up than their still neglected sisters. These were vividly
earmined, although most of them were young enough to have relied on cold
water and a rough towel; their hair was arranged in enormous pompadours and
topped with "lingerie" or beflowered hats. Their blouses were "peek-a-boo"
and cut low, their skirts high; slender or plump, they wore exaggerated
straight front corsets, high heels and ventilated stockings. They practiced
the debutante slouch and their jaws worked automatically.
Not all of them were "bad" by any means. Fillmore Street was a promenade
at night for girls who were confined by day: waitresses, shop girls of the
humbler sort, servants, clerks, or younger daughters of poor parents, who
would see nothing of life at all if they sat virtuously in the kitchen
every night.
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