Word: coats
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...works so roundly that many Germans still believe she is downright anti-German. Marlene's impending return created a spate of mumbling in the West German press. She shrugged it off: "The only thing I'm really afraid of is eggs. I have a swans-down coat, and if an egg ever hits it, I don't know what I'll do. You couldn't clean it in a million years...
...Napoleon's Josephine, he plunged into a round of handshakes in his now familiar manner-a quick look down for the hand, a look up for the owner, a short shake, and then onward. Behind him came friendly, roly-poly Mme. Nina Petrovna Khrushchev in black astrakhan coat and pillbox hat, her arms full of orchids. The rest of the family trooped in afterward-Daughters Julia, Rada and Elena, Son Sergei and Son-in-Law Alexei Adzhubei, editor of Izvestia. It was the first time since 1896 that a Russian ruler had visited Paris. It turned out that Khrushchev...
Most Wanted. But more and more, as the oldtime nannies dwindle, the mothers of England have, had to take over. In Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park, the nannies shudder at the modern English child, dressed, not in flaring coat and velvet collar, but in jeans and sweaters. The harassed mothers are apt to shudder, too, and each day brings more plaintive pleas in the newspapers: "Kindly, reliable nanny wanted." In such cases, the "titled lady" who advertises has the advantage...
...hour of jostling conversation with the Olympians, the Nixons slipped away and walked down an icy path to Squaw Valley's reception center, where a welcome party for them was already blazing up. In front of a huge open fire, Pat paused long enough to take off her coat (with lapels solidly festooned with Olympic buttons pinned on by the eager young athletes) and fur-trimmed galoshes (borrowed for the occasion from her teen-age daughter). Then she headed resolutely for the reception line. A Swedish official in a white sweater kissed her hand. Danny Kaye stopped to chat...
Since he left the Martha Graham company 14 years ago, Merce Cunningham has pursued a labyrinthine path extravagantly admired by his followers but often bewilderingly obscure to uninitiated spectators. In Cunningham's world, disembodied arms may project from behind curtains to serve as coat racks, the dancers may suddenly suspend all motion to stand fiercely washing their hands, the hero, dressed in a multi-colored coat, may roll about grunting like a pig or baying like a hound...