Of Love and Broccoli, or, How I Spent My Tuesday

So not all that long ago, I was chatting cybernetically with the frenetically cultured, enormously soigné TJB (who really must be encouraged, sternly, to write more for public consumption), and he recommended a specific movie, available on YouTube, that I really must see.  I filed it away.

Or thought I did.

Holiday Gift Suggestion #2

This Christmas, I think what someone needs to give Midge is a new best friend - her current one is clearly a classic Mean Girl frenemy.

So This Happened

Three staunch ladies, lunching at the Russian Tea Room. What one would have given to be a fly on the wall...

They Wore Blue Velvet...

Because what says "glad tidings" more than home-tailored crushed velvet?

Three on a Match

A trio of lovely, crazy people share a moment.  There is a lot going on in this snap, and I can't quite believe I've never seen it before.

Shameless Saturday Camp Explosion: That's Entertainment?

"The man who insists on high and serious pleasures is depriving himself of pleasure..."

- Susan Sontag, "Notes on Camp"

Oh, yes, that's entertainment all right.  Very, very disturbing entertainment.  Ladies and gentlemen, the Florida Trio!

It turns out that there are some very good reasons Vaudeville breathed its last...

Three Girls Three

On a fine autumn day, there was nothing that Evelyn, Eve, and Lyn liked better than to dress up as Pat Nixon, link hands, and go for a walk on the shoulder of the Interstate while singing a hymn or two.

Three on a Match

Just 16 years ago today this unlikely trio - who clearly hadn't coordinated their wardrobe choices in advance - gathered to promote a TV movie they made together, If These Walls Could Talk, one of those much-admired-at-the-time kinds of projects that no one ever particularly wants to see again.

At the time, Demi Moore seemed poised to take over Hollywood, even if here she seems to be trying to distract us from her G.I. Jane-skinhead-imposed skullcap by a stealth display of the girls.  Walls was meant to be her coming out as a Serious Hollywood Person, the Brat Pack at last behind her.  1996 did turn out to be a turning point; if not quite in the way she'd hoped - Jane garnered her a Worst Actress Razzie and didn't particularly shine at the box office.  Coming hard on the heels of the disappointing Striptease and her much-derided go at Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter, its failure to thrive meant that her days of opening big movies on her own were suddenly behind her.  All too soon she was a voice in The Hunchback of Notre Dame II and an "older woman" guest star in Charlie's Angels, and really things haven't improved much since.

As for Miss Spacek, even then she had started down the path to JessicaTandydom that continues to this day.  Never a glamour girl (this apparently is her idea of dressing up, poor thing), she'll likely continue in more or less the same vein for decades, slowly becoming ever more Distinguished and Beloved, not to mention Twinkly and Feisty.  Frankly - and I know this doesn't really reflect very well on me as a person at all - she sort of bores me, and has at least since Crimes of the Heart. 

And then there's Cher.  I am quite sure this is her idea of daywear.  In 1996, she had already been a star for 30 years, and even as we speak today she's readying a new album and her latest Final Ever Farewell Tour, the first iteration of which hit the road a decade ago.  She is indomitable, eternal, undeniable in her stardom.  If Her Walls Could Talk - now that's a picture I'd pay to see. 

Three on a Match

One of my favorite literary meetups took place 53 years ago today, when Lula Smith had Tanne Blixen and Norma Jeane Miller over for lunch.  It was a real lovefest that even the taciturn presence of Mr. Miller couldn't dilute.

I choose to regard as gospel truth the longstanding rumor that, before the afternoon was out, the three of them danced on Lula's marble-topped dinner table.

Yesterday, When We Were Young...

Ah, time in its flight...31 years ago today, this trio - Robby Benson, Joan Jett, and Rex Smith - joined forces - and Life was there.  The whys and the wheres are lost in the mists of time, but I confirm that within 18 months or so of this snap, I very likely owned and wore most or all of these clothes, not to mention sporting most or all of those haircuts (which are, I suppose, really only variations on a single, blow-dried, theme).

Since when, by the bye, did Joan Jett ever go around looking so femme?  1981 is kind of an in-between time for her, after the Runaways but before the Blackhearts, but she never at all struck me as an eyelet-and-ankle-sox kind of gal (frankly, I would have thought that was more up Rex's alley, but that's just me).

All three, now, are more or less in the "Whatever Happened To...?" category.  Jett did Broadway a couple of years ago, well-reviewed in Rocky Horror;  Benson has become an activist for cardiac research and just self-published an e-memoir recounting his four open-heart surgeries, I'm Not Dead ... Yet! (cheerful); and Smith's website, in the "Rex Right Now" section, touts his undoubtedly smash tour of the Philippines - in 2009.

STOP THE PRESSES:  I just realized something.  I was going to add, as a Fun Fact, something that I can't believe that I did not know:  that Robby Benson has since 1982 been married to fab '80s backup thrush Karla DeVito.  Then I thought to myself, recalling endless midnight viewings of the "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" video (which played, along with "I do the Rock," before screenings of Rocky Horror - back to that again, how odd - at Philadelphia's lamented TLA):  "Self, we have just discovered a major Time-Life error:  that woman in this picture is not, in fact, Joan Jett (who would not, in fact, be caught dead in New Wave Shepherdess drag) - that's Karla DeVito!"  Benson took over from Smith in Pirates of Penzance - in which DeVito understudied and then replaced Linda Ronstadt (talk about your "Whatever Happened To"-s!) - on Broadway right about that time, so there are the whys and the wheres, too.

Oy.  Can you tell I have too much time on my hands?

Merry Wives

Some days you sit around thinking, "oh, dear - whatever shall I write about today?" Inspirationless, you wanly wait... and then Dame Fortune smiles.

Or, at least, the @ClarenceHouse Tweeter points you toward this lovely image, saying "The Queen, The Duchess of Cornwall and The Duchess of Cambridge visited Fortnum and Mason earlier today."

Which sounds to me like the setup for a joke (punchline ideas welcome), but looks rather like a royal matryoshkha doll.  If nothing else, it's a reminder of how much taller people seem to be getting, although I suppose at 85, the dear Queen has likely lost a little height that even her charming topper can't quite offset.  And doesn't Camilla have surpringly nice gams?  I really think she looks well here (although I must confess we're fairly pro-Camilla in general here at the Café, never having had much time for her high-strung predecessor).

I do hope they enjoyed their little shopping spree.  I imagine the newest Duchess sending a nice hamper off to the Falklands, while perhaps Her Majesty found something in the heart-healthy section (for even, these days, Fortnum's has to toe the health line, I bet) to take home for tea with Philip.  He will have wanted clotted cream, but then again, don't we all?

Song for the New Depression

For your (dubious) listening pleasure, Jacek "The Polish Bobby Vinton" (is that redundant?) Lech brings you his 1966 hit "Bądź dziewczyną moich marzeń" ("Be the girl of my dreams") .

It's notable mostly for the appearance on backup of a rarely seen legend: yes, here we have not only Thing One and Thing Two, but their lesser-known sister, Thing Three. If this is what they could come up with for primetime TV, imagine what the girls in the steno pool were wearing. Snazzy frock on the slightly-too-enthusiastic hostess, though, you have to admit...

Mother's Little Helpers

Well, actually more like your Aunt Doris's, from before she settled down with Uncle Lew, back when she was stewing for Eastern and always going on endlessly about that one time she swears Merv Griffin made a pass at her in First Class on the way to Vegas once.

The ones on left and right more or less make sense - as much as anything of their era does - but I really can't imagine the challenges of integrating the center one into any kind of halfway not-laughable coiffure, not least because it's still well more than a decade before Star Wars. It is one piece, wrapped around the back, or two independent hair-blobs? Did it actually hook over the ears?

The past, it truly is another country...

Decisions, Decisions

Have you decided on your costume yet? Why not confuse your friends by going as green Joanne Worley, still-fat Star Jones, and old Mickey Rooney? Bonus points to the best single-costume mash-up of the three!

The Perfect Blendship

I'm especially fond of pictures of Judy - and there are many - with her friends. They tend to be taken at times that reinforce the mantra one hears from so many people who knew her: that at least some of the time, and often much of the time, she had a wonderful time. That's somehow comforting.

Of course - this being Judy - it also stirs up feelings quite opposite, ones that dwell on the special sadness of someone who knew and was adored by everyone interesting in the whole world who still managed to squander all that and die alone, sharing a house with someone who, by comparison, she barely knew.

One can also marvel at the idea that one of these remarkable creatures is still with us. Images like this seem as much ancient history as if they were of Jenny Lind, David Garrick, and Lillie Langtry.

Puzzled in the Playhouse

Well, not so puzzled anymore - not since dear Plumcake (whose fab blog is for the Big Girl in all of us) so cleverly solved yesterday's debut Café rebus. Yes, as she craftily worked out, Jo {March} + (Ankh - A) + Raw {steak} + {Model T} Ford works out to Lucille "Billie" Cassin Lesueur Fairbanks Tone Terry Steele. That was fun, and if you're not careful, I'll inflict another on you.

The photos that form the triptych above were taken at one of Crawford's later public appearances, in April of 1973, when she took to the stage of New York's Town Hall as part of series of tributes to great ladies of film organized by publicist extraordinaire John Springer (you can read the whole interview here).

And guess what? Leo Lerman was, in fact, in the audience. I'll spare you his description, but it's characteristically fabulous.

And Now, a Word from Our Sponsor

40 seconds-or so of stop-motion bliss, advertising (based on other examples avaialble) laundry soap. Not quite as ruthless an earworm as the one brought to you by the fine folks at Tarako, but you may still find yourself humming this later.

I'm especially fond of the third set of triplets, who could have escaped from an all Blythe-doll re-enactment of Les Demoiselles de Rochefort. And may well have.

When Ladies Meet

This publicity photo is ostensibly just of three favorite supporting ladies modelling the spring's new fashions and hats.

However, I do feel that it could just as easily be construed as beloved ditherer ZaSu Pitts deftly - and to the surprise and, one feels, satisfaction of Paula Laurence (caught in the midst of her trademark Martita Hunt impression) - ripping a mouth-breathing Celeste Holm a new one.

You just know ZaSu could drop the Vera Vague act any time she wanted to, and one can hardly think of a more suitable target.

"Honey, She has the Body Electric"

Yes, Phyllis Diller is indeed telling Fame-thrush Irene Cara something about Zsa Zsa's bust, while the possessor of said bust is taking a moment to admire her own jewelry. I have no idea what this all means, but, needless to say, I adore this picture and would kill to have been there.

Zsa Zsa's kind of a big girl, isn't she?

Everybody Have Fun Tonight

Three A-list ladies show that it's possible, in fact, to enjoy yourself at even the most elaborate of Hollywood costume parties. It's a magic moment in their lives, and I like to think completely genuine:

Marion oblivious of the double chins and passing years, hoping, perhaps, that Norma being at her party meant, finally, an end to all that gossip...

...Norma, carefully composing her face in one of the six trademarked expressions that successfully hid her "difficult" eyes...

...and Merle, with that tight shopgirl's smile, incongruous as always on her perfect face, that betrayed a certain painful nastiness of character (and, in this case, the knowledge that her mantilla overshadowed even that of the boss's widow).

Do you suppose that in sixty years anyone will find as much interest in deconstructing a party snap of Anne Hathaway, Kirsten Dunst, and Jessica Biel, to grab three random names from today's casting lists? Given that I can hardly stay awake thinking of them now, I have my doubts...