...it occurred to me to dig out some of my old After Darks.
From October 1970 with Sylvia Miles looking far better than any of us ever imagined she could.
This is Gilbert Feruch, a clothing designer who has gone to his greater reward, but has left us with some very nice photos of some very groovy clothes.
I'm mad for that asymmetrical vest...actually, mad for all of it. What's great is that it's definitely Sixties, but has just a slight touch of what's to come, which we all know wasn't always that great. Though I had an intimate relationship with a cape back then, the years have shown me that the cape is simply....quelle horreur.
Oh, this article says that Feruch was responsible for the Nehru jacket, to which I say, [eyebrows raised] pardon me.
John French revolutionized fashion photography, when it came to newspapers that is, by perfecting the lighting of his models. Back in the 1950s, French knew the problems newspapers were having printing fashion photography; the photos wouldn't reproduce well. Because of this, fashion editors relied on sketches and drawings to promote the moment's latest. French solved this problem by lighting his subjects in such a way that the resulting product looked sharp and clear in newsprint. Jean Dawnay, one of his models described it like this: "I was standing on white paper and there was more behind me and in front. I was sort of in a white box....None of the big studio lights were directed on to me; instead they were aimed at the white paper, so I stood in reflected light." Now, fashion editors didn't have to rely on sketches anymore, we could see the real thing.
And why this lesson in John French? Well, I could post a zillion examples of his work (I bet TJB has a lovely cornucopia of John's work scattered throughout SSUWAT).....and you'd probably recognize most if not all the fabulousness he snapped. Twiggy, Jean Shrimpton, Barbara Goalens, Enid Munnick...to name a few. But I mention John French so that I may post two photos of Marla Scarafia.
The first photo, the before photo is Marla when she initially arrived at his studio. Not an unattractive girl, but nothing about her face says, "look at me." It's this second photograph, the after shot, post modification by Mr. French and his minions (don't know who might have been there, but David Bailey & Nicky Haslam both got their starts via John) that destroys me. It did the first time I saw it and it continues to knock me out, every time I see it. Though I could fill notebooks with names of women I think gorgeous, I think this photo of Marla is IT....for me.
I don't know about you, but one of the millions of things that I love about SSUWAT are the mystery photos, so I thought I'd toss one in and (hopefully) work a few nerves.
We'd like to thank askthecoolcookie for supplying us with a little Cookie Magic! Tail fins, hairhoppers, pulp rags - he certainly knows how to push all of our buttons! Stay tuned for the last of our Guest Editors tomorrow, the faboo normadesmond, who is undoubtedly getting ready for his closeup at this very minute.
Well, the point has been raised that on SSUWAT its always 1962, so I am showing you what I was up too in 1962.
That's me - not in the dark sweater - I'm the baby that looks like an old man being held by my Aunt Evy. She of the fabulous hair do - Aunt Evy (who later showed up in Cleveland claiming that she had always been Aunt Lynn, never Aunt Evy) was from Miami Beach, and later Bel Air was a hoot. Her first husband (my Uncle Chet) was singer and a dancer and had appeared in first traveling company of Guys and Dolls. Her second husband was his my Uncle Lou, a man who married two of my father's sisters.
Anyway in 1962-3 I was being passed from person to person, family member to family member. Sometimes it was the father's people (the Jews) and sometimes it was my mother's people (the Methodists and hog farmers to boot). I grew up not knowing who's who and what's what. But I made it, and that bizarre upbringing has given me a unique perspective on life.
But just look at those bags under my eyes! Well, I was a colicky baby (that's turned into a colicky adult) and a night of good sleep was never mine to be had. So my mother poured this chalky stuff by the name of Petrogalor down my throat hoping it would put the kid out.
It didn't.
Not even Ambien works for me.
But then NBC did a wonderful thing! They put Jay Leno on at 10PM, and that works like a charm. Five minutes of Jay and I am buzz saw bound. But, I have these dreams of being chased by a man with a Hapsburg Jaw...
Anyway, I would love for each of you to clicky on the linky below and come visit Doing Hard Time in Shaker Heights. The content is a bit eclectic, a bit like me. Really, do stop by and I've even take the plastic off the furniture - and I don't do that for just anyone.
And TJB, you are the best. This has been fun and I promise that in February, you can come play in my world and make it your own for a day, too! Hugs!
"Liza - I've got to see you --" My husband's pleading left me cold with fury. "There's nothing to talk about," I snapped back. "We're finished, Tony - forever!" But in my heart I hadn't meant those words. And now they could have been the last words he would ever hear from me!
I'd always thought that my parents loved me, and that I could count on them when I needed them for anything. But on the most important night of my life, they let me down. That night, my parents became my enemy!
My sister-in-law said: "I have done everything for you - EVERYTHING! And now that I am sick you're going to desert me for a man! Well, let me tell you this - the man doesn't live who can make a woman happy. They're all selfish beasts!"
I was only fifteen when it happened - my first kiss, my first awakening to love. For twelve long years this passion consumed me, and the man was my sisters husband!
"...my mother-in-law said, "I know how you floozy town girls get a man - and you think you've got my son forever by having his baby! But something could happen to make you lose it!" The cunning evil in her voice filled me with terror. What was she planning to do to me?
Just thank your lucky stars that your "True Story" isn't as sordid as theirs...or is it?
When talk about ultra luxury in cars, no regular Cadillac, Lincoln, Packard or Imperial will do. Mercedes-Benz? Feh! No, we want something with that certain special something that can not be translated into English. We want a car that Albert Camus would literally die over.
The car you are looking at is the Excellence, the sedan built by the Anglo-French automobile company Facel Vega from the late 1950s until 1964. But, Facel is best remembered for mating Pont-a-Mousson gear boxes to Chrysler V-8 Hemi's and dropping that lethal combination into Italian designed lithe coupe bodies at a Paris assembly plant. Those cars obtained blistering performance and get the lions share of the attention.
But the Excellence - offered only as a true pillar-less four-door sedan (no central post at all), was the company's exercise in shear, unadulterated luxury. Interiors were upholstered in custom dyed hand matched leather, sew so precisely that the grains matched. Real burled elm adorned the dash boards. Their only flaw was that the body flexed - something was taken care of by reinforcing the chassis. These cars are not daily drivers - they were yesterday what the Maybach is today. They are meant to be driven by a man in a uniiform, with you riding in the backseat, relaxing while watching the world pass by.
And - as a side note - the Excellence almost became the basis for a revived Packard in 1959. The deal was almost done when the heads at Daimler Benz got wind and put an end to it. Studebaker Packard Corporation had the exclusive US distribution rights to Mercedes Benz and Benz wanted no challengers to its potential markets, crying "conflict of interest" and threatening Studebaker with yanking its contract. Thus MB not only killed Packard for good, but it wounded Studebaker by limiting its ability to spawn off a new car with almost no overhead. Just like Benz has blood on its hands for the Chrysler affair, it also has some Studebaker blood on them as well.
But things didn't end well for Camus (who killed while riding in Facel Vega coupe in 1960), nor did it end well for the Facel Vega. As with most French automotive endeavors, Facel bit the dust in 1964.
If you find one - about 60 were imported to the US, be prepared to pay in the 50-100k range. A maroon one was sold on eBay just last year. There's hope for us all.
Just as TBJ has given us the day to play in his space, we must not be afraid to reach out and grab knowledge from other places. For your consideration, I give you UnBooks:Now That You Are Almost a Woman, a book dedicated to learning all of the things that a woman of the world needs to know, and thus letting you all in on the "big" secret.
Darlings, it's simply been a mad caper - between choosing hats with Halston at Bergdorf's, lunching with Jacques Tiffeau at La Grenouille, and cruising the Rambles with Michael Greer, we've had scarcely a moment to breathe. But what a relief to know that SSUWAT has been in such capable hands as those belonging to our darling Felix! Now, if you'll excuse us, we have to get back to the bar - leave that Audrey alone for more than a few minutes, and she'll be slinging back sloe gin fizzes and loudly requesting "Moon River" to be repeated ad infinitum.
For my final effort of an extraordinary and whirlwind day, there really is only one appropriate way to close. Especially considering my firm conviction that all things always lead back to Judy Garland.
Although performed in 1961, the "Judy At Carnegie Hall" concert album ended 1962 as the eighth best selling album of the year. I'm gonna hazard areal wild guess here, but, I suspect that if your reading this blog, you've heard this album. If that is indeed the case, then I need say nothing more. If, however, you've managed never to hear it, well then, WTF!
It's such a shame that it wasn't captured on film, but here is a very nicely done slide show clip of one of about a million big moments from the show:
This is not from the Carnegie Hall show, but I've always loved it and hadn't heard it in about 20 years:
So, while Judy toys with our affections by teasing a possible return (if only), I wish to thank TJB, with all my heart, this has been a complete blast. I will be back on the job at Felix In Hollywood tomorrow, if the red eye lands on time.
In the immortal words of a famous (sometimes) blond debutant,
Now go to sleep. Oh, I forgot this city never sleeps.
Our year, 1962 also contained the loss of Marilyn Monroe. A Hollywood latchkey kid who became a Sex Goddess, and who wrested some sanity by making a move to New York to study an art that in many ways, she could have been teaching.
The amazing thing about Monroe for me is that, in her work and in her public persona, she seemed able to play both flighty sex sprite and grounded earth mother simultaneously.
I've discovered a beautiful clip that was assembled from many shots of the famous Bert Stern fashion shoot that was done for Vogue just weeks before her death. Unfortunately, embedding of it is prohibited. So I'm going to include the link to it and hope you'll venture over. It's less than two minutes long and you'll be glad you did.
It is difficult to make any examination of the time frame centered around 1962 without falling prey to the cliche, "The Era of Camelot". This idea, of course being patented by President and Mrs. Kennedy. And frankly I for one, am happy to take the bait. Everywhere you look on the cultural landscape, you can see this 'land of happy ever-aftering' in play. It's simplicity, elegance, optimism and overall sense of welcoming. The First Family's effect was inescapable.
So, from 1961-1966 we regularly dropped in on a couple with a slightly more than passing resemblance to the Kennedy's, albeit younger, more suburban, more accessible. Their names were Rob and Laura Petrie.
Since the theme song is already going through your head anyway, here is a triple screen of it showing three of the variations that were used in the opening credits.
One of the greatest comedic gifts to the late 20th century, Carl Reiner, created the show based on his life as a comedy writer for the Sid Caesar program, "Your Show of Shows". He claims that the Alan Brady character is less Caesar, and more of an amalgam of Milton Berle and Jackie Gleason. Apart from that, biographical it is. All the way down to the Petrie's address of 148 Bonnie Meadow Road, New Rochelle, NY. Evidently it was one digit off of Reiner's home address!
It's hard not to like Rob Petrie and even harder not to love the way Dick Van Dyke played him. A big career risk at the time, Van Dyke was doing "Bye Bye Birdie" on Broadway which looked like it would run forever. So should he leave the musical to go out to Hollywood and shoot a pilot that might never go anywhere? For almost 50 years, audiences are awfully glad he did.
But one brilliant creator and one terrific actor does not a legendary sitcom make. The supporting cast was, in a word, PERFECT! Rose Marie (nee Baby Rose Marie) and Morey Amsterdam (who, incidentally wrote the lyrics to "Rum and Coca Cola for the Andrews Sisters) were two Vaudeville veterans who were lightning quick and could steal a scene with the best. And Richard Deacon as the poor, long suffering (gay) Mel Cooley was at his put-upon best.
But the real surprise was young Mary Tyler Moore, who's resume was not especially, how shall we say, vast. Van Dyke was initially reticent about her because of their age difference. But to this day, whenever I think of love, it's easy to think of Rob and Laura. And as for her chops around such seasoned performers, well the kid did just fine.
It may very well be the first sitcom that would handle topical issues such as race relations and, the then relatively new, anti smoking campaign. (Impressive considering Kent cigarettes was a sponsor.) Reiner has also said that the enduring longevity of the show was due to his policy not to include any early 60's slang or fads. However, I did catch him in one slip up there:
Alright already, I admit it, that clip is here so I could drool over Jerry Lanning who played Randy Twizzle (makes my checker chubby!)
It was also the first sitcom to have a conclusion in which Rob writes a book about his experiences as a writer for the Alan Brady Show. The publisher rejects the manuscript but Alan Brady (played by Reiner) says that he will produce it as a sitcom and play the role of Rob Petrie!
If you find my comparison of the Petrie's to the Kennedy's a bit of a tough sell, well all I can tell you is this: In my three year old mind I thought they were the same people. You know, like he was President all week and had a TV show too. And on that horrible day in Nov. of '63, I was crying right along with my parents because I thought I'd never see the show again.
In 1962 the entire world was given a gift that would last for many years to come, in the form of the first Yves Saint Laurent collection.
Below is a fascinating look at both the runway show and backstage. Though without sound, the clip is spectacular and even features a brief sit down with the Princess Lee Radziwill who was there on editorial assignment. Feast on it's deliciousness!
If you were successful in deciphering the odd title, than you already know that the subject of this entry is the song(s) and the dance craze that absolutely consumed America and England in 1962: The Twist. The year end top 100 singles list in Cashbox shows The Twist at the number one position and what's more, there are a total of eight songs on that list with the word 'twist' in the title! And so far as Billboard magazine is concerned, The Twist is the only single in history to reach the number one spot in two separate runs (1960 & 1962)!
Ernest Evans was born in South Carolina and raised in South Philly. Having an innate talent for impersonation, he turned an otherwise boring job at a local butcher shop into fun by doing imitations of pop starts for the customers. During his first recording session, it was Dick Clark's wife who gave him the stage name, Chubby Checker; a humorous take on 'Fats Domino' whom Evans had just been imitating.
To add to it's impressive list of credits, music historians claim that The Twist was the dance to bring adults onto the floor to dance to teenage music, thus bridging a generation gap. To a degree. For a short time.
So put on your 'slippy shoes' and let's Twist, times three!
Now let's begin by setting the record straight. Don't ever let it be said that I don't know my New York City. Not only did I happen to live in New York City, but it just happened to be in the year of our focus, 1962!
Okay, so it was actually Governor's Island, but we did have a lovely view.
Oh alright, it was only for the first half of the year, for on my third birthday, June 30, 1962, we moved to a lovely shocking pink stucco bungalow in Jackson Township, NJ. (Now the proud home of Great Adventure theme park)
However on that very day, Mrs. Kennedy was seen all dressed up to celebrate the fact that I was moving 45 miles closer to the White House.
June 30, 1962
Never mind that she was actually in Mexico City for some silly reception that day.
The point here is that New York and I go way back.
Hello...Hello...Hello...Hello Wow, was that an echo? Oh my God, it's so big in here. Much bigger than my blog. And the decor! You can't imaging the luxury. I must be on something like the 25th floor and the view is spectacular. Why, I can see all the way over to Pier 48. GOOD HEAVENS! What are those men doing over there!!! Guess I'd better back away from the window and introduce myself.
My name is Felix and I'm here to sort of keep an eye on things today. TJB had to step out for a fitting. Then he's having luncheon at La Grenouille, followed by a hair appointment at Mr. Kenneth's, cocktails at 21, and then he said something about going to his downtown men's club for an extended poolside business meeting with his "Artist's Representative".
There is much I hope to accomplish with you today. Firstly, I want to honor TJB's beloved Manhattan, while secondly, bringing something of my Hollywood perspective and lastly, I wish to aim this all at his proscribed 1962 era of choice.
Let's see, I--Oh dear, the boy is just bringing in refreshments and I do so need them after my long journey. I'll just bend him over sort through some notes and be back with you shortly........
We're pleased to finally announce our award-winning Guest Panelists for this week!
On Monday, we will be visited by that delightful, cultured, witty star of stage and screen, Tony Randall - or, our very own delightful, cultured, witty FelixInHollywood of, naturally, Felix In Hollywood.
Finally, on Friday, we are graced by the erudite, pear-toned presence of Martin Gabel, better known to SSUWAT readers as the erudite normadesmond, late of The File on Esther Zidel and, more recently, mitten drinnen.
We're so very excited to have this fabulous trio joining us this week! We're sure whatever they have in store for us, it'll be a lulu.
