Word: cocktailing
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Then there are beeg mad cocktail parties after the game where we thaw out-and more parties where we keep thawing...
...Chris was coming to the U.S. He wrote him a friendly challenge: "Don't just visit New York and Washington, like most visitors. Come on out here and see the real U.S." Like most visitors, Arthur Christiansen went to New York and Washington-and to Hollywood, where the cocktail parties were "regal, magnificent." But last week the editor of the world's largest daily newspaper (circ. 3,856,375) paid a visit to his friend Dick Vesey, now a University of Wisconsin journalism student, at his home town of Plymouth...
...their minds. Ranging from $15 to $79.95 retail, the California clothes could hardly compete with Paris' high-priced originals. As one observer said happily: "This is not competition. It's merely trade." Members of the couturiers' syndicate promptly changed their attitude; Schiaparelli and Jacques Fath threw cocktail parties. A round of dining and lunching followed, highlighted by a Government-sponsored party at the exclusive Club de Lundi. Buyers from Cairo, Lebanon, Switzerland and Sweden, who had been trying to get just such clothes as California showed, bustled about trying to place orders...
...that almost clearly-had been the best he'd seen since before the war. A big noisy crowd, plenty of passing, plenty of color, plenty of everything. As far as Vag could recollect, we won the game, and afterwards; well, that was a little dim. There had been one cocktail party where who stopped in the middle of a sentence, muttered something incoherent, and quickly leaned out of the nearest window. After that there had been some dancing going on, and then-it was funny, but he didn't remember anything else...
...first of these scenes shows collegiate fox-trotters as they really look, then as they think they do--floating hazily in each other's arms--and then returns to the comically ugly reality. The second parodies a cocktail party: 30 overdressed men and women wiggle about inside an invisible (and nonexistent) wall in the center of the stage, waving long-stemmed glasses, nodding their heads furiously, and shouting in fearful chorus, "Yatata, yatata, boloney, mismosh, rubbish, yatata." The third impressionist scene is "Allegro" itself: the title song, a freudian ballet, and the gyrations of the projected backdrop displaying the tempo...