Yesterday, we dreamt that we paid a visit to Arlene Dahl's charming apartment, circa 1976, in the company of gossip columnist Shirley Eder. In the dream, we are waiting in the apartment (which we dream to be done all in white and Chinese yellow, to best set off Dahl's flaming red tresses) for Arlene to come home; when Arlene finally makes her entrance, Shirley is on the phone, "acting on a tip," so Arlene lavishes her attention on us. We and Arlene mutually exclaim over how gorgeous the other looks, and then giggle as we both admit that everyone always tells us the same thing. "Well, darling," we tell Arlene, "we have three things in common: good genes, good taste, and upkeep." Arlene nods sagely.
At what point do they give up and just start looking like hell? http://imageshack.com/a/img28/4909/ainp.jpg
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