POOR LITTLE RITZ GIRL

No longer will the visiting royalty, the grand opera star stranded in the midst of the Puritans, the very haute monde, automatically head for the classical frigidity of the Copley-Plaza. No more will the debutante spend her long winter evenings under the Louis Quatorze shelter of the Somerset. Hotels--in great abundance--are coming to Boston.

When the Statler opened with the flourishing of commercial trumpets and hymns from the Park Square realtors, there was prevalent a feeling that at last Boston had been recognized and that it no longer need bow its head in shame at the mention of hostelries. Now its pomp has increased, for it may flaunt a Ritz-Carlton in the fact of those who doubt its metropolitan savoir-faire.

There is no doubt but that a Ritz is an asset to any city. What confidence is necessary to be able nonchalantly to arrange a luncheon--at the Ritz;--it takes confidence--and much more than confidence. Even the eminently respectable and rehabilitated Parker House and the Victorian solidity of the Touraine yield to the superior glorifications of the Ritz. The ultimate goal of the aspiring undergraduate now changes from being able to chat familiarly with the Copley doorman to possessing sufficient boldness to call the Ritz headwaiter by his first name.