"We girls know so little about racing yet. We are thankful that the very famous 'Hotspur' has agreed to come and tell us his secrets." A few days ago these frightfully polite words, rich with Britain's broadest bazaar-opening vowels, issued from blonde Dair Marr, 17, as she introduced Ewr Curling, the Daily Telegraph's horse expert, to 30 of the finest blooded fillies in London. Dair & Co. had cause to hear a betting and breeding lecture. As students at the Cygnets House, the most exclusive finishing school in England, they must learn to "talk politics with Eden at lunch on Monday, ballet with Dame Margot on Tuesday, racing with Aly Khan on Wednesday."
Be as Cornerstones. Cygnets House is the creation of tiny, taut Mrs. Rennie O'Mahony, who founded it after World War II as a patriotic (and profitable) alternative to packing British subdebs off to Paris to learn the graces. Ever since, socialites have installed their daughters at Mrs. O'Mahony's small Queen's Gate town house, whose front hall contains a collection of white china swans "to remind the girls of what they are expected to become." Their guiding light: "That our daughters may be as cornerstones, polished after the similitude of a palace" (Psalms 144:12). For such polish, Mrs. O'Mahony's fee is an abrasive $1,325 a year. Hundreds apply, but only 30 are chosen—"daughters of leaders, men of noble birth, aristocrats of achievement, a cross section of the nice people."
"I want my girls to know everything," says Mrs. O'Mahony. "My aim is utter perfection." At least in principle, Cygnets learn to discuss abstract art, ask a bishop how he takes his tea, change a diaper, sew up a ball gown, open a bazaar, cook a banquet and, should such perfection overpower onlookers, give first aid. It is assumed that Cygnets will marry, and one lecture tells the girls "How to care for a tired husband fretful after a nasty day at the office."
Dine by Candlelight. A Cygnet's life is ascetic: she may not smoke, wear trousers or enter a nightclub, and her few, heavily supervised dates are with escorts certified by her family. At the end of a gruelingly elegant day, Cygnets must dress ("looking as if they have washed too") to dine by candlelight at small tables rich with silver. Examinations test the sheen of the polish; this week the girls will be grilled on "table manners" or "arrangements and care of flowers as an indoor decoration," and "Why is it important for a magazine story to have a happy ending?"
Only at the end of an exhausting year does Mrs. O'Mahony pronounce her girls truly finished. Cygnets get no diplomas, but so far, most have sailed smoothly into society, soon found appropriate husbands. "My school," said its director recently, "is one of the last bastions of gracious living in England."