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Susannah's Spring, Summer Reading List, 2020
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Best Story of the Week…August 22
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This entry was posted in Beauty, Fashion, humor, media, New York City, shopping, women and tagged fashionistas, J. Crew Factory Outlet, J. Crew Womens, observations, running in Central Park. Bookmark the permalink.
Love this one !
Best,
Hal
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Only in New York…:)
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You were spot on! Great story!
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Quick and spare, my favorite kind of essay. In and out. My next one is like War and Peace, even after editing my little heart out. Well, you’ll read it, hopefully, so then I’ll know, it was worth it. 🙂
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It will definitely be worth reading, because your posts always are.
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She’s at the post waiting for the bell, still the favorite…:)
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PS I’ve just read Seabiscuit for the 3rd time. Neigh
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Surely you are just horsing around.
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No, but I am comin’ round the stretch.
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Proof you just know your stuff, Susannah! 😉
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Always wonder who I’m channeling. 🙂
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She’s definitely a good representative and you know how to spot them! I love the way you describe her, right down to the flats with a hint of heel. You’re right about ‘only in New York’. That wouldn’t happen here in East Podunk, although we did see a couple of hot foxes in the yard…real foxes.
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Oh Skinny, she was so great looking. Wanted everything she had on. 🙂
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I see wonderful dresses that would have looked so nice on me as recently as 15 years ago (age 54), I’m so envious of those who can pull them off. My days are done. Now there is extra flesh on my bosom and gut that prevent those skinny dresses from draping correctly.
Ironically, while skinny I always wanted to be more fleshy. I just imagined it spread around differently, ha ha!
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I’ll bet you still turn a head or two there Madam. I’ll just bet!!!
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It takes one (look) to know one.
There is always so much going on in that city, that even when it’s quiet, you’ve got stuff like this happening all over the place. Only in New York . . indeed.
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It’s got a heartbeat all its own.
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And the stories happen, like no other place.
I miss that, among other things, about the town. How when you’re just minding your own business getting to somewhere, you’re skipping the same space with all kinds of personalities.
I remember Pavarotti giving all of us a free show as he sang his way along the sidewalks one time. And how Chevy Chase wasn’t the funniest guy when he was waiting for his car at the parking garage. And how my girlfriend at the time made me walk past this deli where Richard Marx was dining, countless times! And keeping up with Rachel Hunter after we walked out of the Lion King and were making our way to dinner.
And the not so famous, they were even more interesting to be around.
What a town. Indeed.
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I know. Sightings everywhere. I could tell quite a few tales myself, like the day of his mom’s funeral bumping into JFK Junior in front of my house with my laundry. He had to move out of our way. I lived at the time above an over priced eatery he and a friend had alighted from.
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That sounds like my five second romance with Andie MacDowell when I bumped into her in Vegas. I’d never been much of a fan, until that moment.
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She was so pretty. She was in a Nora movie…Michael, remember? Loved that film.
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I do. Cher is the Swiss Army Knife of entertainers- she really does it all.
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And she’s still crooning.
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What a woman.
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Yeah…hear her roar. I’ll tell ya.
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The thought purrs.
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Love purrs…reminds me of a line from The Philadelphia Story. I forget it in its entirety but, Tracey Lord asks her father about his mistress…or does she purr.
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What a great flick. I interviewed the granddaughter of Ruth Hussey a while back. Hussey had married a local fellow and we talked about how she became more devoted to family than Hollywood before too long. Nice peeps.
It reminded me of a line I loved. When asked by Sydney Kidd if she hated him, she replied. “Oh no, I can’t afford to hate anyone. I’m only a photographer”.
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That was such a great play, and film. Howard Hughes who was canoodling with Kate H. at the time, bought her the rights because she was named Box Office Poison for some reason. Must’a been those pants’a hers. So they had to let her play Tracy, like it was tailor made for her and all that Connecticut she wore like a regal robe. Philip Barry, now there was a writer.
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I forget there was a time when women didn’t wear pants. That Kate was ahead of her time in more ways than one.
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Yeah, she sure was. I was in Turtle Bay, checking out Kurt Vonnegut’s old townhouse just the other day.. She lived a block over they renamed, Katharine Hepburn Way. They tried doing that for Vonnegut, but the powers that be said no. Sigh. And so it goes.
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The powers that be need to get a life.
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They’ve gotten very haughty if you ask me. He died in 2004. You’d think he’d be properly appreciated by now. sigh
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2007, April. I remember writing something about him back then. An ode, if you will.
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Trumpets before Trumpets.
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Those kind of things are fun.
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Yes they are. 🙂
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