Sister Act

The late Countess of Snowdon would have been 85 today, and really I rather wish she were.

One More Ride on the Merry-Go-Round

It can be odd sometimes to be reminded that people once staples of the headlines are still among us.  Lord Snowdon, for example, has emerged from the (comparative) shadows in today's news, having donated a cache of his portraits to the National Portrait Gallery, which is mounting a large-scale show of his work.

Out to Lunch

Last night I dreamed I went (no, not to Manderley)...

Beach Party Day Dream

It may be just because the Family's been so much in the news in the last couple of days,* although I think it's more likely because the Mister and I spent the morning braving the DMV, but I've decided that all I really want to do is go to a beach party with Princess Margaret and her pals on Mustique in 1972.  I'll have what she's having, and the gentleman in the back in stripes can stop by my cabana about 4:00, please...

*And yes, I did watch the live cam, and the jury's in:  the kid's a natural - did you see his little wave?

Meanwhile, in Ruritania

Surrounded, at an august and certainly dressy gathering, by what Queen Victoria referred to as "the Royal Mob," the late Countess of Snowdon is shown to be something of a pocket princess. She turns a rather limpid gaze on one of her Scandinavian cousins. As for me, were I that tiny, encorseted, diamond-bedecked lady, I'd be paying a great deal more attention to the lesser but distinctly dishy Pahlavi on her left...

Why Don't You...

Shake off the post-Hallowe'en blues by taking a nice hot bath in your best jewels? Look how jolly it's made dear Princess Margaret. Her signature tiara may have ended up on the auction block, but it was all great fun while it lasted...

Swing Out, Sister

"The princess also talked about piano playing (she does it well), did a few intimate impersonations (she does those well), and babbled on and on. So we were chums... She has a beautiful complexion. Her diamonds were small flower clusters on ears and on her hands. She's kind of jazzy and looks like her father struck it good in the female-shoe business."

- Leo Lerman (who else?), on an evening out in London in 1965

Just One Look

The Countess of Snowdon bestows a knowing glance on a lucky photog. I can't decide if she looks more Vermeer or upper-crust Emma Peel, but whichever, she makes it work.

Of course it all went horribly wrong later on, but right about then, that woman was fierce.

The Many Friends of Danny La Rue

The British press is now two days into what can only be described as light-hearted mourning, marking the passing of the nation's longest-running Sweetheart in Sequins. He's seen here with the previous record holder.

Is it just me, or does it seem possible that cocktails might have been being served in the Royal Box? I've never seen that tiara pushed quite that far back before.

Here, one stately work of art contemplates another; both look like they could use one of those dubonnet-and-gins that may have contributed to the royal disarray above.

No actual royalty here, but Mr. La Rue's just come from seeing her. At those investitures, there's usually a string orchestra playing light favorites. One would love to know what accompanied Danny's moment with Her Majesty - "I Enjoy Being a Girl"? "Baubles, Bangles, and Beads"?

Once again, no literal royalty, but I think this pair makes up for not having a picture with the actual Queen. Sadly, now, both have gone to the Grace Bros. branch above...

And only one queen here, but I can't resist dear Mr. Stewart's expression. Is he horrified, intrigued, just a little turned on - or a delicious blend of all three?

Wally and Windsor

Time is cruel.

(Is is just me, or does the Duke look startlingly like Princess Margaret in her sad last years?)

Picture This: A New York Painter

Ages ago, in talking about a little fête chez Muscato, I used this painting, Cocktail Party, by American painter John Koch to illustrate the post. I don't know when, exactly, I first ran across it, but I remember it being much on my mind all those years ago when I was throwing far more modest parties in my own little New York flat, for it has long seemed to me to sum up a certain kind of very specific New-Yorkiness.

As, it turns out, did much of the life of this remarkable and highly underappreciated painter. Almost wholly self-taught, he dedicated himself to a thorough exploration of the pleasures of life, in their more moderate and civilized forms.

His partner in much of this was his wife Dora, a music teacher and fellow aesthete. Together, they transformed their rambling Upper West Side apartment, in the words of one essayist, into "the stage for a play-in-progress, in which furniture and friends alike were props and Koch was the director and lead actor. Everything was placed just so as evidence of his exquisite tastes, in anticipation of an admiring audience..."

The apartment appears, in various guises, innumerable times in his works, as both a setting for their social life and a workspace; this 1974 painting of a model watching the artist work captures the winter light of Manhattan better than any painting since Childe Hassam.

Koch used portraiture to help pay the bills; his picture of HRH The Princess Margaret captures far more of that lady's amused good humor than is normally seen; she seems almost to be supressing a giggle.

Perhaps she was, while sitting, looking at one of Koch's nudes, for they are very pleasing indeed, and show a healthy interest in both genders (as, apparently, did the painter in his private life). Here we have The Sculptor, showing a private moment between painter and model (and the most superlative ass, I would say, to appear on canvas in the 20th century).

If you like, you may read an excellent pair of essays on Koch here and here, written in connection with a 2001 exhibition of his works at the New York Historical Society. I really think you ought to.

Nursery Rhyme

There was a little girl
who had a little curl;

And when she was good,
She was very, very good -

But when she was bad -

She was better!

Although I'm not sure the somewhat skeptical-looking Simon Callow, seen here about to have his cocktail ashed, would necessarily agree.

Some days, all it takes is thinking about Princess Margaret to help me out of a funk. Is that so wrong?

Image du Jour: (Mrs.) Snowdon by Snowdon

The Princess Margaret Rose. Just because.