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.