Ginger and her boys, just singin' a song and having a blast. Doesn't she look pleased at having at last shed that pesky Mr. Astaire?I would have thought, though, that she might have emphasized a little more toothsomeness in the backups - they're a fairly motley crew. Or perhaps she just went Mae West one better, and didn't even want men on stage who might be as pretty as she?
I remember in the 70s watching her on some talk show and being appaled to hear her politics, whihc were a little to the right of J. Edgar Hoover. Maybe these chorines were the only ones she could find in the John Birch Society.
ReplyDeleteYes, there's no question that Ginger's overall appeal declined radically as the years went by - so stratosphericaly engaging in the 30s, moving through her Great Star phase in the 40s, and all downhill from there.
ReplyDeleteIn London, there are still whole dinner parties devoted entirely to the horror that was her Mame (with the only question being, who had the worse time, her colleagues onstage or the audience).
But then you look back at 1932, and fall in love all over again...
I think this photo is pitched exactly at the moment when it was all just this side of permanently curdling.