Life — March 24, 1927 — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

At the Midlandburg Local Art Exhibition “WHUSSTHAT, MoM?” “Tr MUST BE WASH-DAY ON THE March This month did indeed ast come in like a lamb, the St day being fair and fine, and only three bills on the morning post instead of the usual sheaf, but my husband, poor wretch, did do what he could to ruffle a surface of tranquillity by making a fuss for that the white waistcoats which he did get up from the storeroom against our departure for the South do catch him too snugly at the armpits. Lord! in what sartorial good fortune men do really stand, when a woman is nought but shabby in a dress she has owned for six months, whereas a man does feel like a tragic hero at the mercy of the Fates if a seven-year- old garment does suddenly play him false in following the lines of his figure. To the shops for this and that, buying in less time than it takes to record it a coat with a shawl collar Life of squirrel and a bright blue hat which Gaston had just sent over from Paris, and shoes and stockings and Fleurs d’Amour bath powder and God knows what else, and twice or thrice I was holp- en out of my cab by elegant and kindly door- men whose shops I did not enter, a situation which does always make me feel somewhat guilty, but the weather and traffic conditions of this town are such that a chauffeur must draw up to the kerb where best he can. Then for a fitting on my newest sports silk, nor would I regard myself in the mirror whilst it was going forward foras- much as the first try-on of any new frock is discouraging enough to send even a Helen of Troy tottering towards the river. So home, finding Emmy. Prescott awaiting me, and in chattering of this and that she did tell me how the s, who have inherited one of the greatest fortunes in the country, do never travel to- gether for fear that an accident might cut them both off and there be left no steward for the money, which does prove, methinks, that they are lack- ing both in humor and philosophy, but I did not say so to Emmy, for that they are amongst her closest friends. To the playhouse this night to see Walter Hampden in “Caponsacchi,” a poetic drama de- rived from “The Ring and the Book,” and as we were going out we did overhear the conversation: “You say Browning wrote this ?’’ “Yes.” “Well, no wonder Peaches left him!” We, however, did [fe enjoy it. (Cont. on page 30) Long Live Decay! LOVE these dear decadent days, For I’m securely pure. ? Go be abnormal as you please, I'll stick to the moralities. And will they pay me? Sure! We witness that the newer plays Inevitably deal With too-voracious mother-love Or subtle variations of The so-called sex appeal. But I'll depict instead of these In any play of mine A girl who's primitively chaste, A mother safe to be embraced, And a hero masculine. Then, when the man has won the maid, And—after that—they’ve kissed, There shall be dancing in the street And grateful cheers from the effete: “At last, a novel twist!" Perry Ivins, Perfectly Sweet “T)O you think Liz minded that awful lawsuit she was mixed up in?” Why, my dear, I think she rather enjoyed it—I kno : told me they had a grand jury WHAT HAVE I DONE TO MAKE YOU SUSPICIOUS OF ME? She: 1 pon’? KNOW, BUT I’M TRYING TO FIND OUT. comicbooks.com