There are those, supposedly, who don’t like fashion. There are poor souls out there who read the entire NYT except for the style section. Thus, they miss the highlights, things that one doesn’t expect to read in a paper that keeps on call a kennel of Chicago economists to advise us on the zona. For instance, this today, about Vera Wang’s show:
“Ms. Wang’s provisional muse was Peggy Guggenheim, an ugly woman who embraced Wilde’s maxim that, “One should either be a work of art or wear a work of art.” She sewed Cocteau’s pubic hairs to a bedsheet. Ms. Wang did not pursue motifs of that kind.”
Dry, knowing humor! In the NYT! About Cocteau’s pubic hairs!
However, I can’t imagine PG did the sewing. The maid who did it no doubt discovered that pubic hairs are impossibly curly and hard to sew to anything, threw them out, plucked a few hairs from the poodle, and done is done.
I must be getting old, since I actually liked a few of the Oscar de la Renta gowns. Okay, one wonders if, up close, they would smell of mothballs. But I’ve read that slow + fashion is the latest and greatest, so bring on the naphthalene.
MANY YEARS LATER as he faced the firing squad, Roger Gathman was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover
ice. Or rather, to discover the profit making potential of selling bags of ice to picnicking Atlantans, the most glorious of the old man's Get Rich schemes, the one that devoured the most energy, the one that seemed so rational for a time, the one that, like all the others - the farm, the housebuilding business, the plastic sign business, chimney cleaning, well drilling, candy machine renting - was drawn by an inexorable black hole that opened up between skill and lack of business sense, imagination and macro-economics, to blow a huge hole in the family savings account. But before discovering the ice machine at 12, Roger had discovered many other things - for instance, he had a distinct memory of learning how to tie his shoes. It was in the big colonial, a house in the Syracuse metro area that had been built to sell and that stubbornly wouldn't - hence, the family had moved into it. He remembered bending over the shoes, he remembered that clumsy feeling in his hands - clumsiness, for the first time, had a habitation, it was made up of this obscure machine, the shoe, and it presaged a lifetime of struggle with machine after machine.