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.