Trust dear Miss Ann Miller to be the one to lead us on our way out of this old year - if there were anyone from Olde Hollywood with whom I think it would be a kick to spend New Year's Eve, I suspect it would be she. Katharine Hepburn would want to do something improving - recite Longfellow, perhaps; with Bette Davis, the evening would surely end with recrimination and the furious tossing of barbed insults; Joan Crawford would make us go upstairs and ooh and ah over those damned twins; and, of course, Miss Garbo would really rather that we weren't there at all. Ann, though, would meet us at the door with a nice cold glass of champers and the latest dirty joke, and isn't that how any New Year's Eve party should start? Also, by 1:00 a.m., I don't believe it would take much to persuade her to put some Cole Porter on the hifi and recreate her big number from Kiss Me, Kate, which would certainly be a hoot.
Which brings us to an anniversary, for it was just 64 years ago today that Kate bowed on Broadway, starting on the journey that took it through a run of more than 1,000 performances there, a national tour that may still be rattling around somewhere, the splashy 3D MGM spectacular in which Ann stole every scene she could, a 1968 TV version starring the singularly unappealing combination of Carol Lawrence and Robert Goulet (they were married, but I can't imagine it helped any), and regular revivals from here to Tashkent.
As for New Year's Eve, we're running up the coast a principality or two and spending the big night with our pals The Teacher and his very fetching partner - if nothing else, it should be more festive than last year, when Mr. Muscato and I sat, each with a terrier on our lap, waiting for midnight so that we could for God's sake go to sleep. I feared then that terminal middle-age had set in, but perhaps there's life in the old girl yet. We shall see.
How about you? To steal a line from dear Miss Whiting - what are you doing New Year's Eve?
Because I am such a wild dog, I will be sitting at this very terminal reading other more sociable people's doings. With a cat on my lap.
ReplyDeleteI will be passing up a Yahtzee marathon to do so. I'm a wild dg.
I imagine Miss Whiting and Miss Miller may well feature heavily on our playlist here at Dolores Delargo Towers - HAPPY NEW YEAR indeed! Jx
ReplyDeletePS Peenee's only kidding - she'll be getting arrested at the Velvet Room like all the others...
i don't care for new year's. i'm exactly 1/2 a year older (which really makes me happy) and i don't drink much, the reason why the whole thing exists, right?
ReplyDeleteGoodness, apparently, it's already New Years eve (according to the time on this post, how does that happen)!
ReplyDeleteHappy 2013!
The mister and I will likely be abed by 10 pm. January 1st is inventory day. We close the doors, have all hands in to count and tally, and have a fairly boisterous time with the staff. By day's end we will marvel over one or two sizable items which have somehow grown legs and mysteriously left the premises during the preceding 12 months.
ReplyDeleteOf course, back in my day, I knew what to do to ring in a new year.
Banging a pot or two out the door at the appointed hour or perhaps watching The Poseidon Adventure and trying time the big wave to flip the ship at midnight and careen about on my backside like the Misses Winters & Stevens.
ReplyDeleteI always thought a party hosted jointly by Eve Arden, Thelma Ritter and Claire Trevor would be the place to be on New Years Eve.
Your party does, indeed, sound like it would be what the young folks today are calling a "hoot," but trust me, darling, when I tell you it would pale in comparison to the one thrown jointly by Estelle Winwood, Hermione Gingold, and Aimee Semple McPherson. Ah, those were the days....
DeleteHa - it all sounds like fun. Debbie Reynolds could be a fun hostess as well, but perhaps a tad 'perky'. I suspect a more louche Noel Coward/Princess Margaret (I know, I know) style soiree would be more to our taste.
ReplyDeleteAs for us, we're hosting 40 or so in the garden (weather permitting). Two of our guests requested a security detail. When we declined, they were fine as 'they'd bring their own people anyway'. I have no idea what they're expecting to happen.
TW
transpires they were only worried about their cars. I ended up with India's answer to Max von Mayerling staring dolefully at one vehicle all night and a goon in a Tahoe watching over his master's rather nice 2 seater.
ReplyDeleteTW