Doin' Whatcha Doin'

They're lost in the shadow of the Marx Brothers - hell, they' re lost in the shadow of the Ritz Brothers - but in the very early '30s, Wheeler and Woolsey were a hot item in Hollywood. Nowadays it can be hard to see why, but this delirious number from 1934's Hips, Hips, Hooray! gives a hint.
The boys are joined by their usual sidekick, the truly charming Dorothy Lee, a dainty little Mae Questel type, along with cult favorite Thelma Todd (in the mink shrug). It starts a little slow, but builds to a gleeful, almost Grouchovian level of mayhem.

D2

It's not something I'm especially proud of, but I still think this is a great look. Simon never really did it for me, but ... Nick Rhodes. Sigh. That hair; that eyeliner; those pushed-up sleeves.

And oh, for the days in which I could wear horizontal stripes without doing an inadvertent Mamie van Doren impression...

High Heel Hussy

I have no idea if anyone will think this a challenge or not, but just in case: who is this lady who's lunching?

Department of "What Was He Thinking?"

No, no, John Abraham! Cornrows are not the way to showcase your perfection. Nor is the cheesy backdrop. John has bigger ears than I would have thought.

Let's get that image out of our minds with a glimpse of John as he was meant to be: stripped, sun kissed - and immobilized.

In a Mamie Mood

Of course, I'm all about our new first lady, and totally into her contemporary, fashion-forward vibe. That doesn't mean, though, that I've lost any affection for the former White House mistress who was perhaps the Divine Michelle's polar opposite:

Isn't she glorious? Mamie, Mamie, Mamie, serene in her be-capelet-ed coat and double row of pearls.

She may not have been a Vogue covergirl, but on her watch, entertaining at the White House did have a kind of splendour:

It's hard to believe this is only fifty-odd years ago. It might as well be a study for a Winterhalter group portrait.

While this lightly fraught moment carries with it more than a whiff of Velazquez, no?

The Red Room looked pretty good, but the Blue Room shows why Jackie had her work cut out for her. I like this blurry shot, though, which reminds me of Deborah Turbeville's Versailles photos.

Although her Ghosts were, I suppose, unlikely to accessorize their crinolines with a nice mink stole.

Michelle is hot stuff all right - but could she carry off that hat? The wallpaper is yet another Kennedy challenge; you can almost see her face when first she saw it. I think it must have been Eleanor's idea. Or maybe Grace Coolidge.

To end this little hommage, here's another in my occasional shameless namedroppings: when I was six years old, Mamie Eisenhower kissed me. Right on the top of my cowlicked head. She was a little old lady by then, and didn't have to lean down very far. She smelled, like old ladies of the day so often did, of powder and faded roses. It's the kind of thing I think will astonish young people when I'm very old, although by then I suppose none of them will have any clue who she was.

Ye Joye of Cookery

I can't help but wondering what else Sir Kenelme's undoubtedly put-upon son found in his late father's closet. Oh, and by the way: metheglin? Apparently it's a variety of mead, with spices added. The things one can learn on the Interwebs...

Gimme Gimme Octopus!

Oh, I know the whole "Japan is sooooo weird" genre is hardly fresh any more, and even more I know that not long after this came out I was rabidly watching anything by Sid and Marty Krofft, so it's not like Americans have any real claim to any kind of cultural superiority, but still: Japan is sooooo weird! Proof: this clip from a once-popular children's show.

You weren't planning to sleep this week, were you?

If you haven't had enough, just go search on "kure kure takora" (Japanese for the title of this post, and the show). There's lots to choose from, God (or Godzilla) help us.

Meanwhile...

A moment of uncharacteristic calm in the houseboys' changing room.

After and Before: King of the Flickers

This mild-mannered elderly gentleman is none other than an idol of the Silent Screen, the original Ben Hur's blood enemy: Francis X. Bushman...

Vaudeville Grandma Muscato retained until the end of her days a breathless quality about him. She maintained that until you'd seen him opposite Beverly Bayne in 1928's Modern Marriage, you'd never understand screen romance, and who are we to say her nay?

Birthday Girl: Our June

A very happy birthday today to a stalwart of British television, the delightfully vinegary Miss June Brown. These days, she's most known as the increasingly poignant perennial neighbor Dot Colwell Cotton Branning on EastEnders. I first encountered her, though, yonks ago when she played the marvellously nasty mother on the Duchess of Duke Street series, which also introduced me at a young and impressionable age into the glamourous debaucheries of the Edwardian era.

It's a funny day for birthdays; also celebrating (or being celebrated) are Sonny Bono, Duran Duran's Andy Taylor, Margaux Hemingway, and Kim Jong-Il. What do they put in the water in mid-May that makes babies nine months later so contrary?

Breaking Theatre News!

From London comes an exciting update: the next star to get the jukebox-musical treatment will be the one and only Miss Doris Day.

Yes, it's true. A regional theatre in the UK will soon be the proud home of A Sentimental Journey, a look at the life and hard times of cinema's Leading Professional Virgin. Personally, we've always preferred Doris's early musicals, things like It's a Great Feeling and On Moonlight Bay, over her now better known glossy romcoms. She had a sauciness that somehow got lost in the midst of all that Not Having Sex.

I'm going to go with the hunch that this particular moment from Doris's 1951 epic I'll See You in My Dreams (a biopic of semi-legendary songwriter Gus "Makin' Whoopee" Kahn) will go undramatized, if only so that the Mill Theatre in Sonning, Oxfordshire remains untorched.

They Call Him Sister Honky Tonk

There were some who said Frank enjoyed his frolics just a tad too much. Or that he at least should have gone with something a little more thigh-flattering than seamed stockings

Babesploitation

Well, that crazy-lady-8-babies story isn't getting any prettier. It's bizarre to think that something has come along that makes the whole Dionne Quint phenomenon seem like a model of sensible child-rearing.

A Word From Our Sponsor

7-Up. And drugs. Mostly drugs.

When Ladies Meet

Mary, America's sweetheart no more, seems transfixed by Elsie de Wolfe, Lady Mendl. Perhaps she's searching for faint traces of the legendary decorator's celebrated facelifts (she's something well beyond 70 here).

And what was it about those fashionable ladies? There's that damn cherub again.

Hearty Good Wishes

On this day for promoting all things romantic,

Whether you are celebrating with cupcakes (actual),

Or cheesecake (metaphorical);

Or simply the traditional heart-shaped box of candy (Barbie-footed Hollywood legend optional);

We hope you have fun.

And remember - as I know all too well from long pre-Mr. Muscato experience: as intensely depressing or at the very least off-putting as this particular holiday can be for singles, it at least means priced-to-move chocolate for the next week or so, which has to be worth something...

Dog, Dunes, Afternoon...

So we continued our celebration of Mr. Muscato's birthday with a beach excursion on Friday, briefly bringing, we liked to think, a taste of Fire Island to a lovely stretch of coastline south of our fair city. A dozen or so kindred souls, a great many beach umbrellas, and enough white wine on ice to keep ourselves amused - it really was rather a magical day.

Happiest of all, predictably, was Koko, who got to run around leashless, eat barbecue, and torment herons (or egrets, or whatever the lovely leggy birds who wander the shore are. Nature has never been my strong suit). Fortunately, they're defiantly faster than he, so there were no unfortunate incidents. And he's still more or less conked out, which is just as well, 'cause so are we.

Holiday Greetings

Have yourselves a Karen Valentine's Day!

Boy with Pearl Earrings

Glamouriffic Bollywood sensation Upen Patel shows that his little fling with gender play was no fluke; here he rocks a crisp tropical look, taking it up a notch with an elegant pair of pearls.

Is it any wonder we're finding his relentless overtures ever harder to resist?

A Woman Never Forgets...

...the man who remembers the waxy, leaden taste of Whitman's Samplers. Grandmother Muscato was forthright in considering Whitman's common, and I'm hard-pressed to disagree. Russell Stover - now that's a very different kettle of fish. Or fondant. Or whatever.

Love the cherub, though. Looks like they may have borrowed it from Carmel Snow...