Word: bunks
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...cleavage. You can create cheekbones or take a bump on your nose and make it disappear with makeup. " After twelve spongy hours, Dickinson went to her West Side Manhattan apartment to share egg rolls and wine with her boyfriend, who is also a model. Nowadays, models tend to bunk not with princes or playboys but with other practitioners of their trade ? makeup men, photographers' assistants, advertising tyros. Before retiring, Dickinson removed her makeup with mayonnaise, washed her face with yogurt and then splashed apple cider on it as an astringent ? a ritual she learned from Makeup Wizard...
...dandy, Eustace Tilley, eyeing a butterfly through a monocle-The New Yorker has changed a lot. There have been two New Yorkers. The original reflected its founding genius, Harold Ross. ("Its general tenor will be one of gaiety, wit and satire," the prospectus said. "It will hate bunk," and would not be "edited for the old lady in Dubuque.") Its clever, brittle style survived the Depression but seemed frivolously out of sync when World War II began. So, war coverage was introduced, culminating in an unsparing report on Hiroshima by John Hersey, to which Shawn persuaded Ross to devote...
...each other well." he explains. "Like we take canoe trips and go out to restaurants and goof around. You don't know what a blast it is to march into a public place, all 31 of us, and take the place over." Brothers perched on desks and leaning on bunk beds look at their feet and nod in agreement, grinning...
...woman cadet works busily in her quarters, stopping to straighten her already drum-tight bunk. The door is open, not because a male cadet is visiting but because dozens of cadets keep filing back and forth from the corridor outside. (Men have had to forgo the honored custom of strolling naked through the barracks.) The woman is a top member of the cadet Brigade. A formation of her company is just now waiting for her outside the building. "Hey, Mom, it's time," calls one of the male cadets. This time it's an affectionate nickname, a mark...
When we arrive, there is someone sleeping on one of the couches, but the bunk bed is unused. The atmosphere is informal. A few chairs and a couch surround a low table with four phone banks on it. The walls are filled with practical information--the phone numbers of hospitals, shelters, advocates for the poor, other counselling services, a chart of information on the synergistic effects of various combinations of drugs, a list of people who aren't allowed to crash there anymore because they were abusing the temporary service. There are voluminous files, and sign-up sheets for hotline...