Miracle of 34th Street

Like most great stars, she had a face the camera loved; even more, she had a coloring that the tricky, fickle Technicolor camera turned into something as rich as cream and as a invigorating as a dose of cinnamon.

Revolting? You Bet We Were

Grainy photographs, pictures of neatly dressed, stone-faced people, walking, signs in hand.  Making history.  I'm reading a great book right now, kids, and I think you should, too.

Meanwhile, in Morocco

This stunning image, Irving Penn's 1951 snap of model Lisa Fonssagrives at a palace in Morocco, appeared in this morning's throwaway free paper, in among the sports scores and banal headlines, and my whole day has been the better for it.

Up to the Glitter

Well, darlings, on the (I'm sure very) off chance that your weekend hasn't turned out to be quite as soigné as perhaps you were hoping, why don't we drop in on Mr. Hefner and see what's happening up at his place?  As it turns out, the marvelous soul queen Carla Thomas has popped by as well, doing something rather magical to "Where do I Go?" from Hair.

"You Get to Live When You are Living"

Orchids and royalty in Mrs. Post's front hall

The end of another week, elhamdulileh, and a busy one it's been, too, with some odd and unexpected ups and downs.

In the Garden of Good and Abstract

Canton Palace, Ohio, 1980

One of the little joys of my drudgery work is that it lies within hailing distance of Our Nation's Capital's principal tourist attractions, including the vast and sober museums that line the stately National Mall.  Today at lunch, it being a singularly quiet sort of Tuesday, I went for a walk.

Mock Time That Flies

Earlier this week we celebrated National Poetry Week, and while I missed out, here, belatedly, is my contribution: Dame Edith Sitwell intoning her hypnotic "Through Gilded Trellises" against Sir William Waton's evocative, spare music from Facade.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Dame Helen Mirren

Here to brighten up what is, at least in Our Nation's Capital, a gray and dreary day, one of the United Kingdom's most distinguished thespians.  And I bet you thought her appearance in Caligula was as far a cry as one could imagine from The Queen.

This Much is Tru

Things fall apart.  That may be a title devised by Chinua Achebe, but it's as good a description of the life of Truman Capote as I know.

Brave Little Oysters (Etc.)...

You know, there are a lot of oysters at the National Gallery.  I mean in the paintings; we were there this past weekend, My Cousin the Architect and I, and while we enjoyed our lunch in the Garden Café, sadly the otherwise excellent buffet was oyster-free.  But in the Dutch still lifes, and even tucked here and there amid the Renaissance banquets?  Those bad boys are everywhere.

Splish Splash

As summer gives way to fall, it seems time to indulge in a little fantaisie orientale, don't you think?

Pretty Pierrot

Yesterday, she would have been 110.

Ev'rybody Dance Now!

For no good reason other than it's a suddenly autumnal Sunday morning: ladies and gentlemen - the Penguin Dance.  Apparently this was a thing.

Severe Clear

A day so perfect, so crystalline; one on which there's truly not a cloud in the sky.  That's what it was.

Still Reigning

Well, she's done it, and if it the "it" is simply having lived this long, the manner in which she's done it comes as close as I can imagine one human's efforts could to actually deserving the global outpouring of praise and sheer affection that's coming her way.

See the Man

I don't believe I'd thought of Martin Milner, in anything more than the most fleeting of ways, in 20 years, at least until the sad news of his journey to Fabulon came out over the weekend.

Remember, Remember...

...The sad story of poor, ill-fated Juror Number Eight. Fashion's edicts are ignored at your peril.

Home and Dry

I've always liked the duality of this song - the usual glossy Pet Shop Boys beat, here augmented with scenes of arty anomie, contrasted with what amounts, in this context, to a frankly sentimental lyric.

What's My Wednesdays? # 13: Two Curvy Ladies

I don't know about you, but I seem to know a startlingly large number of people who are Jayne Mansfield fans - serious ones, too,  not just glancingly nostalgic ones.

Had to Get Away...

So I pulled a Bueller today.  I decided mid-morning that, given the choice of staying in Cubeland at Golden Handcuffs or heading home, napping with the dogs, and taking a swim in the condo pool (not, perhaps, quite as scenic as the one shown here in a fetching snap by dear Mr. Slim Aarons), and given that it is already the last week of summer, I really had no choice at all.  Off to the Metro it was.