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...
The jury's in, and the mystery's solved. Thanks to the mysterious "Anonymous" and seconded by dear normadesmond, it can be revealed that the Dark Lady of two days ago is none other than the favorite blonde of a Certain Newspaper Magnate, the resplendent (if at times chinny) Miss Marion Davies.
We've decided to take advantage of the three-day weekend afforded by our Sultanate's celebration of 
Something informal, you know - just some pals, a bottle or two, and a little something to nibble on. I made my trademark crab dip (culled from a cookbook, I shit you not, of recipes from friends of Mamie Eisenhower), Mr. Muscato may be talked into one of his Egyptian delicacies, and Ermilia has a surprise or two up her sleeve. In reference to the above, I hate to admit it, but I must: Marion has looked lovelier.
The key to making a successful small party, I think, is culling the guest list. The last thing you want is guests like this one - bitch makes it 'round the room twice, gulps down four Manhattans, says something annoying to everybody, and never even takes off her coat! At least she doesn't linger.
Unlike Hedda here - now that's how to behave at a cocktail party! Have fun, wear pearls, and keep your eye on the cameraman.
So it's going to be one of those days, Mrs. Dalloway never far from one's thoughts, and then that horrible twenty minutes when you know, you just know, that no one is going to come and everything will be awful, and nobody loves you. And then the doorbell rings, and off we go...
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: 
Whoops - add Constance Bennett to the list of theme party spoilsports! Connie, darling, an ermine shrug - despite the possible effect of making you look snow-capped - is not Tyrolean!