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Friday, February 24, 2017

All You Need Is A Dollar (Oh, All Right, Twenty Million!!!!!!!!!) And A Dream!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


                                 We certainly have the dream, darlings!  At least I have!

                                  How many gay men out there have dreamed--aspired, really--to living at Grey Gardens, in the Hamptons, and being their own iconoclastic version of Little Edie??????  I know I have!

                                    Well, girls. I have just heard that Sally Quinn, herself, has put it on the market for someone lucky enough to buy it.  When she bought it, in 1979, she paid $220K.  Today, Sally is asking $20 million!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                      She will get it, too, due to the house's history and reputation.  So, girls, break open those piggy banks, and cash in those investment portfolios if one of you wants to own the home of your dreams.

                                      Of course, I would love it.  And, if not, you know what my dream house is--a replica of Tara!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                       What does one serve at a party, at Grey Gardens?????????  Why, corn on the cob, of course!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                           "Edie, this corn is delicious!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Why Monte's Last Word Is "Mildred!" At The Start Of "Mildred Pierce!!!!!!!!!!!!!"


                                  If you've been on here, long enough, dolls, you know how it goes.

                                  "Mildred Pierce" opens with an exterior, noir shot of an elegant California beach house in the dark.  From it issue the sounds of six bullets being fired from the gun.  The shooter is not seen, but the victim is--an elegant man who, shall come to be known as Monte Beragon, clutches his chest, and dies the most elegant balletic screen death, falling, rolling over, and crying out a feeble, "Mildred!"  A door slams, and the shooter takes off.

                                    Next is seen a deserted boardwalk, dark and rain streaked, filled with seafood shanties.  From out of these shadows, Joan Crawford, as Mildred, makes her triumphant entrance, in that gorgeous fur coat.  She is bereft, intent on suicide.  But, then................

                                    Of course, if one happens to be watching the film for the first time, what has just been described clues one in to Mildred having shot the man in the beach house!

                                     But my girls and I know better.....don't we?

                                     And this is where any of you who have never seen this classic--but MUST--should stop reading, or else its impact will be marred.

                                     After countless viewings, I always wondered about Monte's last word, and its meaning.  I used to think it was some sort of tragic declaration of love, but, on a recent viewing, I do not think so.

                                       As the film reveals, the shooter is Veda, Mildred's sociopathic daughter, played with relish by Ann Blyth as a bitch we just LOVE!  Especially when she  sings "The Oceana Roll" in the nightclub!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  The same club, in the opening, where we hear a REAL Veda (Ann Borg!!!!!!!) sing "You Must've Been A Beautiful Baby."  It is Ann's Veda, who slams the door, then drives off in the car.

                                      I think Monte, with what last bit of strength he had left, was trying to warn Mildred about how dangerous Veda truly is.  Up till now, she has not committed murder; just been a Class A bitch.  But Monte now knows how heinous Veda is.  He tries to warn Mildred, but his efforts are powerless.  And Mildred finds out about Veda, anyway.

                                       Poor Monte.  He might have been an cad, an aristocratic bottom feeder, willing to live off Mildred.  But did he really deserve bullets from Veda??????????  No.

                                        You have to hand it to Ann, for stealing this picture from under so many professionals' noses!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                           Maybe she understood Veda, after all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We've Already Seen Beyonce At Burger King!!!!!! Now, We Gotta Drink Lemonade????????????


                                  Beyoncé, girl friend, what is up with you?  Did you ever listen to Liza/Christine Pedi, when she told you Billy Stritch should do your arrangements?  Where you gone, girl???????????  From a camp Burger King icon, to some lemonade thing?  And, to think, you were really good as Deena in "Dreamgirls!!!!!!!!!!"  But that was back in 2006--11 years ago!!!!!!!!!!!

                                  Actually, girls, "Lemonade," which I have not heard, and won't, is the title of Beyoncé's sixth, and latest album!  Now, those mad for camp will be guzzling the beverage with those Burgers!  Uh huh!  Beyoncé, eatin' and drinkin'!!!!!!!!!  Oh.

                                   I am telling you, what has the world come to?  From glamour to anger!

                                   Get back on track, Beyoncé, girl, or else you are gonna end where you look--in the prison bullpen, batting your average! 

                                    Wake up, girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Let's Talk About The New Mama June!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


                          OK, OK, girls, on one level it is impressive.  Mama June, at her most Mama June, weighed in at 460 pounds.  Through diet, exercise, and several surgeries, she lost 150 pounds, which puts her at 310.  As you can see, there has been some improvement, but I have a question.

                          Mama June, why stop there?  You can go much further, hon, if you want to look the way the media and ads have been over-hyping you.  When I saw the first pics, I was shocked.  She was still fat!!!!!!!!!!!  From the hype, I expected nothing short of a miracle.  I expected her to look like Blythe Danner!  Or close to it!

                           Instead, we get a first step!  Meanwhile, the bigger shock is Honey Boo Boo! At 11, she is already sprouting boobs, losing those cute childish features, and evolving into a young woman.
She--or someone--knows how to put her together.  But, sadly, as Mama June contracts, Honey Boo Boo expands!!!!!!!!!!!  I am afraid she is headed for the same direction as Mama June, and will morph into a younger version of her.  Sad for an ex-Beauty Queen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                           Mama June has a way to go, and I want her to go all the way!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                           Meanwhile, what has happened to Sugar Bear?????????????????

Thursday, February 23, 2017

What Could Be Better Than Afternoon Tea At The Pierre????????????


                           Fewer things are more elegant than afternoon tea.  And fewer afternoon teas are more elegant than the one at The Pierre.

                            The minute I walked through the lobby, with my Raving Queen bearing, I felt like Gene Tierney.  The best thing about their tearoom is that its elegance is understated.  Which is why, when I first walked into it, I thought of "Brown's" in London.  Stately, but no pretentious.  Just the way I like it.

                             If only Hayley Mills could have joined us!  At least now, when she comes to town, I know where I can take her, for tea.  If she hasn't been there already, which would not surprise me.

                             The tea was scrumptious--mine was an Earl Grey mixed.  And I love the clear glass pot it came in.  The three-tiered tray, complete with finger sandwiches, scones, and pastries, was luscious.  But the Unlimited Champagne!  My poor David, he does not get out much--he thought the entire tea was unlimited.  Are you kidding?  The only thing unlimited was the champagne.  Hey, I had a taste, but don't get me wrong, darlings, none of us are drinkers, to begin with, and with me a recently diagnosed diabetic, and with the passing of Mary Tyler Moore, I have to watch myself!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                             But, for a day, it was a lovely indulgence, topped off by a visit to St. Patrick's, where I lit a candle at the altar of St. Jude, for a troubled friend, and then strolled along Fifth shopping (all right, window shopping) at all my favorite spots--Harry Winston, Prada, and Givenchy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                              Now, where in the world was Balenciaga??????????????

Girls, I Could Just LIVE At The Frick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


                                If ever a home was designed just for your truly, girls, it is The Frick, in Manhattan.  Yesterday, my husband surprised me with what he called an "Elegant Wednesday."  It started out with a visit to The Frick, which, of course, the minute I stepped inside, made me feel like Gene Tierney in "Laura."  Just think of me, perusing my volumes in the stately library, while waiting to receive visitors, whom I watch approaching the front door from along Fifth Avenue--as I deign to receive them, or not.

                              And those period wall panelings, in the style of Marie Antoinette--a role model for all US Queens, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!--and those sky filled backgrounds,  with flying cherubs.  I could bring my own furniture and books with me, yes, but for the most part, the place is already decorated in my style, so the transition would not be much.  If only I could have gotten in touch with Lee (Radziwill) yesterday!!!!!!!!!!!!

                              The last time I remember being in The Frick was to see the Victorian Fairies Paintings Exhibit.  Imagine my shock when I discovered that had been way back in 1998--almost twenty years!!!!!!!!!!!!  How Time moves, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                I saved the best for last.  Pictured next, is my favorite spot in the place.  One where I would more likely to be found reading than the library, as it is more tranquil.
          
                                Yes, I should live at The Frick!  May all our days be so elegant, dolls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Slaughter On The South Side, Darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



 Well, not really a slaughter, darlings--more like a mauling.                                 Imagine my surprise the other night.  There I am, lambs, watching the CBS News at 11PM, waiting for that hot weather forecaster, Lonnie Quinn, when I bolted upright in bed, at the mention of the town I was born and raised in--Highland Park, New Jersey!  I mean, when this otherwise non-descript suburban burg hits the news, it has to be something important.

                                  It was--and disturbing, at the same time.  On Saturday, February 19th, 2017, at 5:30 PM, a 36-year-old woman was walking with her baby, when a Black man, in his twenties, approached her at gunpoint, on the corner of Harper Street and South First Avenue.  He grabbed her, dragged her into the basement of the Harper House apartment building, punched her repeatedly, and then raped her. Nice, huh???????????

                                  There is so much of this story that I question.  It would have been disturbing, had it happened in my time in HP, way back when, but the sad thing is, it would have been more likely, then.  Because there were still those projects along Memorial Parkway, where everyone knew knife fights, rapes and bodily functions took place in the hallways.  Then there was that trashy strip along Commercial Avenue, where the worst kind of ghetto scum resided.  Had this happened then, it would have made an odd kind of sense.  But things have been so cleaned up, since I left the borough, in 1983, that this incident today is even more disturbing.

                                    Now, the South Side was always the lesser part of town, but even within it there were divisions.  Coming over the Raritan River bridge, from New Brunswick, spanning South Adelaide to South Fifth Avenue, the South Side there was respectable.  The more reputable Black families lived there, in contrast to South Sixth and up, which formed Goat Alley, and where disreputables of all diversities resided.  Just think--one block separates a whole social class. But that is the way things were in Highland Park.

                                      The North Side--where I resided, darlings, was always better, and wasn't I made to know it!  Separating our street was North Eleventh Avenue, which from there on, going toward Edison, was a kind of Northern Goat Alley.  Those who lived on the REAL North Side--Tenth Avenue on down--were considered fortunate, and then, of course, there were the President Streets, where those of privilege, whose perfect lives were mapped out for them--at least, while they remained in Highland Park-- dwelt.

                                      You can bet the perp is most likely not from Highland Park, but either across the Raritan, or in Edison, which has its trashy sections, too.  I know I sound like the worst sort of snob, but, darlings, when one grows up in an insulated community such as Highland Park, this is what one learns, outside of school.  School was where social discrimination was practiced--by the students, teachers, and administrators.

                                        But don't get me started.  This was an unfortunate event that once more blemishes the community I was raised in.  If only something positive would appear about it, on the news.

                                         I am telling you, girls, David Lynch got it SO right, with "Blue Velvet!"