Word: claddings
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...vaudeville was once king, burlesque was the nation's raffish, rococo old queen. Sixty years ago this week, Baltimore's New Monumental Theater featured "Divorceland: A fantasy of song and jest, with sumptuous scenic environment and an ensemble of beauteous femininity, prodigally clad in costly raiment." Throughout the '20s and '30s, pratfalls and epidermis at Minsky's warmed the Broadway night. From Boston's elegant Old Howard Theater to the vulgar palaces of Midwestern river towns, innocently dirty old men of all ages whistled and stamped at the sultry writhings of Gypsy Rose...
Though Lawrence Sanders apparently intended his criminals to be gritty outcasts, they are actually laughable bores. "This man who fondled himself while I pranced about him clad in chicken feathers," recalls a lady sadist clad in self-righteousness, "this man attended church every Sunday, contributed to charities...
...halls are invaded by flagrantly disrespectful, bigoted, simpering, amoral, emotionally unstable, outcast, maladjusted, nymphomaniacal, condescending [white] women in desperate and untiring search" for black men. In the first issue of the new black women's magazine Essence, due out April 28, Writer Louise Meriwether describes a typical dashiki-clad black man and his white date: " 'Sensual, sexy Black man.' That's what her look conveys." But an approaching black girl conveys another look. " Traitor. Talking Black and sleeping white.' " The black women's liberation movement has its male adherents, like Eldridge Cleaver, who apostrophized...
...last week the movement scaled new piques when more than 100 mod-and trouser-clad feminists marched into the fifth floor Manhattan headquarters of Downe Communications, publishers of the Ladies' Home Journal. The women (who represented a variety of Liberation groups) demanded "an immediate stop to the publication of articles that are irrelevant, unstimulating and demeaning to the women of America...
...implored, "all America's behind you, kid. From the ghettos to the penthouses, they're riding on this shot," Smith made the point, and for a moment, Collins was rigid with hope. Later, when it was over, I watched Bud as he filed his story over the telephone, clad in his winter uniform-double-breasted navy blazer, party-dude striped pants, de Bergerat shoes. He seemed calm and in control. But it would have killed him to hear what Stolle and Newcombe were saying just a few feet away...