Told you so...

A magnanimous mention of "A Damsel in Distress" (1937) is validated courtesy of NPR critic Lloyd Schwartz. See.

Kept Woman Wednesday: The Girl Can't Help It (1956)

I was a tad frustrated to discover that Turner Classic Movies’ star of the month is…blondes. Huh? I think it does a real disservice to blondes. Judy Holliday is nothing like Doris Day is nothing like Jayne Mansfield, and yet they’re all huddled together by their hair color.

Conceptually, I’m opposed. Trust me, TCM, I think Betty Grable could handle a month all to herself. But, in terms of scheduling, Wednesday has never looked so good. Tonight, it’s a Marilyn and Jayne film festival, which includes “The Girl Can’t Help It.” Anything I could possible describe is joyously detailed in this video tribute from John Waters.

What earns elaboration is Jayne’s relationship with the press. In this video, John Waters describes her as the “parody of Marilyn Monroe…an insane Marilyn,” persona that she controlled. As John says, “Anyone that has a bar that is open 8 hours in their house -- for the press– which she did have – is a girl after my own heart.”

I’m really pleased that a Jayne Mansfield movie is scheduled this week, because I was going to post about her anyway. In another John Waters interview I’ve seen, he describes how Jayne would alert the photographers prior to strolling down Hollywood Boulevard in a bikini with a Chihuahua under her arm.

Jayne seemed to say “don’t let’s be subtle about this whole fame thing.” Which is why this photog encounter with Katherine Heigl seemed so desperate in nature. She certainly looks classy – but don’t let that Rachel Zoe ensemble fool you – it’s ol’ Katherine’s version of Jayne’s beachwear. It seems to humorlessly bellow "please look at me!" This is quite different from Jayne, not only in yardage, but because it's like John Waters says, "How can it be pitful if you're in on the joke?" Maybe someone could give Katherine a hint.

(Katherine Heigl photo credit goes to one of these three: PacificCoastNews, Flynetpictures, style.com)

Everyday use: owl-tober

This little gift from my "steady" now perfectly enlivens my dressing table.

A Very Emily Hartley Christmas

Bob & Emily Hartley

You know The Bob Newhart Show, yes? Then, as you well know, Suzanne Pleshette portrayed the exquisite Emily Hartley, Bob's wife. She was a substitute teacher, occasional smart ass and stylish dresser. She popularized the "boyfriend" cardigan before it had a name, made pants suits fashionably feminine and understood the effortless glamour of a hostess skirt. This, of course, all came second to being the sultriest junior psychiatrist in prime time and always having enough dinner made up to feed Howard Borden.

When I revisited The Bob Newhart Show last winter, I was so taken with Emily, and the Harley's lively marriage. It isn't usual to see a television couple possess such warmth, wit and realism. (And the necessary amounts frustration and pouting). For me, their lovable dynamic is only trumped by Rob and Laura Petrie. And that comparison of chemistry makes sense: Mary Tyler Moore's own production company was behind The Bob Newhart Show.

So: Bob, Carol, Howard, the dentist, Emily -- love, love, love them. Especially love Emily's wardrobe. In all honesty, in an FY10/FY11 analysis, the 80% inventory increase of my maxi dress collection is directly inspired by Emily Hartley.

But I'm not the only one who's inspired:

My kindred spirits over at Talbots are hailing the return of the hostess skirt! Don't wear it with those shoes, guys. Tone it down -- you're a confident hostess. Styling details aside, I'm trying to dial back the lust for this Hartley-esque hostess skirt. (Talbots has a couple more maxi-skirts in their holiday lookbook, but this is the best one).

I know the look isn't so alluring to everyone. I imagine one could offer a critique: too matronly?...too costumey?...too long? But when I see a vivacious talent like Suzanne Pleshette portray Emily Hartley with playful grace, wearing clothes just like these -- I couldn't associate the style with anything better.

Hostess Skirt

Merry Christmas!

 PS: Really excellent screen captures from the classic TV coverage at http://www.chrisbaker.typepad.com/.

Christmas. Is. Coming.

And my list-making begins now:

"Pillow Talk" Barbies!

Kept Woman Wednesday: Designing Woman (1957)

Today's TCM schedule features...an Elvis Presley movie marathon, which includes my aunt's favorite: Kissin' Cousins (1964).

I don't have too much to write about Elvis, except that his Christmas album is essential holiday fare, though I have no idea why it includes "Mama liked the Roses."

So instead, this Wednesday I'll call your attention to Designing Woman. Which has a mediocre plot. Despite that! it possesses three distinct*, enticing reasons to watch: Vincente Minnelli direction. Gregory Peck in Technicolor (if not Gregory Peck in Rome, Gregory Peck in Technicolor is the next best thing). And, lastly, sumptuous costumes from Helen Rose (also responsible for High Society and a bevy of tantalizing textiles.) The Designing Woman showstopper is this mink dress.

Today, no living being would dare get away with this look. But it was more than passable for a time, an era this Kept Woman would like to revisit today on TCM.

*A fourth attraction is that Lauren Bacall's character's name is Marilla. Marilla! Like Cuthbert.

Kept Woman Wednesday: "Mr. and Mrs. North" (1942)

Gracie shopping with her daughter, Sandra. I'm jealous.

George Burns and Gracie Allen aren’t really known for their movies (though conquering three entertainment mediums – TV, radio, stage – was certainly adequate). Today TCM is showing “Mr. and Mrs. North,” (1942) a comedy with Gracie Allen, which I haven’t seen but would plan to if my day permitted (maybe just a long lunch: 68 minutes?!). Of the handful of Burns & Allen movies, “A Damsel in Distress,” (1937) has some especially cute wordplay and cute Fred Astaire. Though don’t plan on deciphering any utterance from the adolescent eavesdropper character (you’ll see).

Did you know that Gracie Allen is one of my style icons? I adore her. When I was little, I would imagine the two of us shopping at Saks together. Just today, my sister asked me what I'd do if vacationing in Los Angeles. My real, true first thought: visit Forest Lawn Cemetery, where Gracie is interred, and take her flowers, like George used to do. I guess, in effect, I’d be taking flowers to George as well. Anyway, that’s first on my list. Then Disneyland.

The the ripe ol' age of ten, I became obsessed with vaudevillians and the early years of television. Inspired by George’s Gracie: A Love Story, I dreamed of Beverly Hills parties spent rallied ‘round the piano at Jack Benny’s house in the company of Mary Livingstone, George, Gracie, Eddie Cantor, Georgie Jessel. To me, they all seemed like great friends. And I didn’t have too many of those.

Gracie was blithe, kind and clever. She was adorable and well dressed – and maybe the first to impress upon me that style wasn’t just for, you know, them. Gracie loved beautiful clothes. If fashion was for a five foot funny lady with a squeaky voice, the maybe it could be for me, too (who had far greater sartorial inadequacies).

Here's what Gracie taught me about style:
Accessories: To avoid being over-dressed: before leaving the house, Gracie would look in the mirror and remove one accessory. I know, I know that this advice is often attributed to Coco Chanel, but I first learned it from Gracie. (Anecdote from George in Gracie: A Love Story.)
Furs: Fur instant glamour: A source alludes me, but George once said that Gracie "had furs from animals I've never even heard of." I, too, love furs. So taboo! I usually reason that if an animal would have died a natural death prior to my birth -- I'm off the hook because I wasn't around to protest it's inhumane death. (Would you like to know more about Persian Lamb? Yuck yuck ick!)
A Confidante: For the latest trends: Tony Curtis's The Making of 'Some Like it Hot' describes one of my favorite Hollywood friendships: "Orry-Kelly was constantly on the phone, talking to some woman. I assumed he was gay, so that didn’t figure. I later learned that he was talking to Gracie Allen. They were thick at thieves. Even though she’d retired, she wanted to hear all the gossip." Orry-Kelly could definitely shop at Saks with us. Don't know Orry-Kelly? Fix that.

A lively sense of humor is rather winsome, too:

Imagine that

Last year writer Lorrie Moore was at The New Yorker Festival. Her very eloquence was argument enough for her comments on "Why reading is vital." And there she described a lovely truth: reading is essential because "it is important to get close to another person's imagination."

This is so significant to me because she doesn't just explain that you can "get close to another person's imagination." But that it is important.

***

One weekday morning last month, unlocking my office door was a literal stretch as I leaned over a large cardboard box obstructing access. I managed, and soon the box was open on my desk and perfectly newspaper-wrapped packages were inside. What was before me? A week earlier my co-worker and friend had noticed some little ceramics decorating my office. And now, she was offering some new additions to my menagerie: like me, her father collected owls.

So many owls! Danforth and Hale were there. A little rhinestone-eyed owl was there. A tiny owly pillbox was there. And these:

These little owls provide ballast for some of my favorite stories and recollections. (Notice the second from the left is Lorrie Moore's Like Life.) I suppose the only commonality between Oona O'Neill's biographer, Boris Pasternak and Steve Martin is Lorrie Moore's wise observation: They all bring me closer to another's imagination. But that kind of closeness can surface elsewhere. For me, curios and treasures incite a kind of curiosity or admiration that inspires in the same way. Imagination is so remarkably manifested all around us, and we are reminded of its importance by books and baubles alike.

Everyday use(less)

Misters Danforth and Hale

You know, owls are pretty popular right now (a resurgence, really).

It's true they don't offer much functionality, but let's welcome October with my favorite fall icon: the owl. These two came to me rather recently, and their complete story is at the heart of an upcoming post.

Remember them.

Kept Woman Wednesday: The Great Lie (1941)

Bette Davis. Some of us only recall her as the huffing and cigarette puffing Margo Channing or beastly Baby Jane, or all her colorful remarks about Joan Crawford and Marilyn (I love you, Bette.) But she’s so much more to me. So much more important than a caricature, so much more important, even, than her film persona.

Let me first say that the feeling of adolescent aloneness is not so unusual. Rather, it’s the response and resolution that is unique. So when I remark that I spent many years being very timid and very guarded, it’s not a revelation. But I think what follows might be:

I was, most likely, born eccentric. And for a long time it was inhibiting. And now it isn’t.

There are a lot of Bette Davis movies. I’ve seen most. In 1939 alone, four of her greatest films were released. Just that small sample was enough: what started on Turner Classic Movies, grew to renting out the entire oeuvre of her films from our video store (in one weekend). I learned that being an individual was so powerful, not to intimidate others, but to embolden myself. Her wit, outspokenness and intensity, proved to be the serum I needed to survive shyness.

The actresses I really gravitate toward are the singing stars, tap dancers, and style icons: Judy, Ginger and Audrey. They inspire my wardrobe, eternal embrace of heavy eyeliner and energetic imagination. But before all that, Bette made me brave. She gave me the confidence to live in my own skin.

Acknowledging this connection is even amusing. I’m not brazen or commanding or cunning. My aesthetic and demeanor don’t really resemble much about Bette Davis. And yet, she is the impetus for all of it.

Kept Woman Wednesday selection:
The truth is, I haven’t seen Bette’s 1941 film “The Great Lie,” a surprising blip in a filmography to which I am most dedicated. But with tonight's Turner Classic Movies programming, I could amend that.

Kept Woman Wednesday: Tammy and the Bachelor (1957)

Meet Barbara.

You know the type. Like the Baroness or The Parent Trap’s Vicki. She’s the austere trophy intercepting the affection meant for a pluckier rival. In the case of Mala (m’lah? Mahhh-la?) Powers in "Tammy and the Bachelor," her Barbara isn’t your standard model. No, she also disparages the agricultural ambitions of her beau, twentieth-century southern gentleman, Pete. This helps us understand that Barbara is an especially poor pairing for Pete, who hopes to make his family's plantation sustanable again through tomato farming. Oh, Pete…strong, handsome, kind, oh my god, that’s Leslie Nielsen, Pete.

If you're unfamiliar with this film, acquaint yourself here, then return.

Barbara is a great foil for Tammy Tyree, enhancing the classic fish-out-of-water plotline. Compared to “childish Tammy,” Barbara possesses impeccably tailored and flared suits, polished coiffure and a clipped tone. I suspect that it was fun to portray Barbara. Mahhhh-la!

Rope belt!

Once I dreamed that Debbie Reynolds gave me the lush blue gown Barbara wears in the Pilgrimage Ball scenes. Even though I would rather have Tammy’s green gingham pinafore dress, I was ecstatic and didn’t suggest a trade.

That dream-couture benefactress is the real reason "Tammy and the Bachelor" endures so. Debbie Reyonds as Tammy. She's so pretty and breezy. Even a couple "Tammy! I'm so embarrassed for you right now!" moments are negated by her absolute charm. Maybe it's the denim clamdiggers tied with a rope, or the backwoodsy vocabulary (see: jostling board), or that she has an unexpected facility with historically-based monologues. It endears! It enchants!

There's about a day's worth of movies I could watch at any given moment, any mood, and circumstance. The interesting thing is that these films are not even necessarily in my top ten favorite list. "Tammy and the Bachelor" makes rank with both distinctions. Coincidentally, the only other film to do so is "Postcards from the Edge." ...I know.

Like so many hours spent with Turner Classic Movies before tonight, I would spend my Kept Woman Wednesday thoroughly amused by, and sort of in love with, "Tammy and the Bachelor." (Especially the Bachelor. You guys: Leslie Nielsen).

Emphasis on the bachelor.

Everyday use

Why not begin with a reference to Alice Walker and launch into a comparison to Elizabeth Taylor? We all know she amassed an enviable collection of fine jewelry. But that's not all: one thing I admire about Elizabeth is that she loved being the steward of her collection. She'd wear her gems, tell you their stories, and (so I've heard) even let you try them on(!).

There isn't one item in my collection that is even partly analogous to even the most modest of her trove -- but I like her example.

This lovely butter cream-colored tray from the St. Mark's rummage sale was a perfect crudites platter for last Friday's cheese fondue dinner. (The beginning of a well-earned weekend was marked by 1970s theme night.)

Kept Woman Wednesday: Top Secret Affair (1957)

(Susan Hayward, appearing dismissive of my life's dream)

Years ago, I maintained the vision that my adult life could look like a younger, sunnier, carefree-er version of Mary Haines’s glamorous everyday existence. It doesn’t. But that’s fine. My reality is also very desirable.

But if my lifestyle was subsidized by a generous patron, paired with absolutely no expectations, I know how I’d pass the time.

Until I graduated high school, I spent all day every summer watching Turner Classic Movies. I’d nap during the evening, recharging to stay awake until 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. to continue the film marathon.

And I watched some great stuff. I was introduced to my secret favorite musical, “Good News" (1947). I sat through a classic I’m openly ambivalent about: "Citizen Kane" (1941). I recall a great noir starring Betty Grable, of all people. And I happened upon Bette Davis in “The Old Maid" (1939) and discovered a kindred spirit. The summer after high school graduation, I watched “The Great Caruso” (1951) in the small hours of the morning, then saw the screen become snow - - signifying a stubborn dispute between TCM and our cable provider.

I haven’t watched Turner Classic Movies since. But I still pretend, and review the week’s films, remembering all the one’s I’ve seen and yearning to watch all the rest.

So, what cinematic lineup would await my Wednesday? It’s right here.

Today’s line-up is tremendous. Hypothetically, my attention would be rapt until noon.

The dawn is met with Top Secret Affair, a 1957 romantic comedy starring Susan Hayward and Kirk Douglas. Susan Hayward is a favorite of mine. I’ve never forgotten that she was born a New Yorker with the name Edythe Marriner. And she looks like my mom. The year after this film, Susan won an academy award for “I Want To Live,” a claustrophobic, suspenseful death-row movie. Despite the gleaming statuette, Susan Hayward’s name is pretty synonymous with the melodramatic “women’s pictures” of the 1950s – but I consider her an exquisite actress who looked drop-dead gorgeous in Technicolor [See: "I Could Go On Singing" (1963).]

Get a load of this synopsis: Top Secret Affair -- A female publishing magnate tries to keep a general she hates from securing a prestigious appointment.

Those career women are vicious! Yet, imagine what happens when that frosty professional exterior succumbs to Kirk Douglas’s Kirk Douglass-ness. Go ahead, imagine. I'll get you a glass of ice water.

Ring-a-ding-ding

Aren’t these lovelies in terrific need of some gin, tonic and wedge of lime? Gleaned from this morning’s rummage sale at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, these glasses were my favorite discovery of the sale.

I’m tickled pink (and turquoise) by the “evolution of tele-communications” graphics (8 in all!). Happily, the vintage of these glasses indicates the princess phone as the height of technology -- an iPhone has many qualities, but charm is not among them.

But isn't this a peculiar motif? Naturally, it's why I like them. And, upon consideration, the correlation between drinking and dialing provides a storied legacy (at least in cinema).

Think of Macaulay Conner, Tracy Samantha Lord, the champagne and George Kittridge calling.

Remember Holly Golightly's telephone hidden in the suitcase after the wild soiree?

And recall Thelma Ritter slogging through her hangover(s) by listening to Rock Hudson sing to his debutante "inspiration" of the day in Pillow Talk.

So, actually, communication and cocktails: they go together like scotch 'n' seven.