Word: casuality
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...casual glance at investment statistics might suggest that 1968 was a vintage year for mutual funds. Most of them outperformed the market and, overall, the assets of 300 U.S. funds grew a healthy 22%, from $45 billion to $55 billion. Of 307 funds surveyed by Manhattan's Arthur Lipper Corp., 285 did better than the Dow-Jones average of 30 blue-chip industrial stocks, whose average 4.3% growth barely kept abreast of inflation. Altogether, 238 funds topped the 9.4% gain of the New York Stock Exchange's index of all its 1,249 common stocks...
...Agnellis as arrivistes-they have had big money for only 70 years-Gianni does little entertaining. An evening at the Agnellis' 30-room palazzo in the center of town often means a movie in a screening room where 30 or 40 films are shown a year. Agnelli is casual about art, but he does "buy when I am tempted." His impressive display of sculpture, Gobelin tapestries, Picassos, Klees and Renoirs shows that he is tempted rather often. In August and September, the Agnellis move to Villar Perosa, 30 miles west of Turin, where they have a lemon and lime...
...sewing machine and a pair of pinking shears are the only clues that identify Michele Sapone's ground-floor flat on Nice's Rue de Châteauneuf as a tailor shop. Casual visitors are much more likely to mistake it for an art gallery: about 450 paintings and drawings -many by Europe's best-known contemporary artists - crowd the walls of the waiting room, the workshop, the corridors and even the fitting room. As tailor to more than 100 leading French and Italian artists, Sapone, 56, accepts payment for his clothes in works of art. Says...
...will be the last of her kind to be built at Upper Clyde. It's maybe just as well." It would be misleading to hold up the new Queen as a reflection of all that ails Britain's economy. But it exposed anew the casual management and slapdash workmanship that has become all too common in a nation anxious to regain the grandeur of the past...
After a lonely Irish boyhood, and a top British school (Clifton), Cary had a futile three years' fling as an art student in Paris and Edinburgh before entering Oxford. Once there, he gamely tried to disguise his bohemian artist's vocation beneath a carapace of casual tweed, but only succeeded in proving that academies are not sound judges of literary talent. He got an almost unheard-of fourth-class honors...