Word: connoisseurs
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...Among the glories here are a lyrical alabaster-and-pearl paten, which may have come from St. Sophia, and an opulent, dappled sardonyx chalice decorated with enamel figures that resemble mini-mosaics. There are treasuries or reliquaries in important churches all over Europe, but very few gladden the worldly connoisseur's eye like this...
...connoisseur of the deadpan schlock of pop culture, pro wrestling in its latest guise is like a trip to hog heaven. And the crowd is a big part of the show: part upscale, part down-home. Tuxedoed yuppies mix gingerly with the + rip-his-eyes-out! regulars. Andy Warhol shows up to pronounce, "It's hip. It's exciting. It's America." Gloria Steinem stops by to snort, of woman- mauling Roddy Piper, "He certainly is unfit to wear a skirt." Geraldine Ferraro apostrophizes, "Roddy Piper, why don't you come out and fight like a man?" Meanwhile, each month...
...birthday by giving her a self-portrait. "I had just had a hip operation," he says, "and got interested in X rays." He ordered up one of his head, to go with the others provided by doctors. The resulting painting, unveiled to the public in the current issue of Connoisseur, shows the essential Wyeth gazing out to sea, clad in a naval jacket from the War of 1812. "I like skeletons," avers Wyeth, 67. "They're more enduring than the flesh that hangs on them." And how did Mrs. Wyeth regard her husband's nod to physical if not artistic...
...contrast, Boston's other usual starting forward, Cedric Maxwell, is a connoisseur of leisure. At the moment he is caring for a bad knee. During the off-season Maxwell finds it restful to steer his long car to a construction site and watch other men sweat. While he has an undeniable flair for grand occasions on the court, and was the play-off MVP of 1981, now and then in the ordinary going he throttles down for an evening as if idling at a building project. This mildly annoys most of the other players, but it galls Bird, whose farm...
...Their weighty (245 Ibs.) prototype is Morgan Leafy, the splenetic diplomat at the center of Boyd's first novel, A Good Man in Africa. That account of coming of age in western Africa, published in the U.S. two years ago when Boyd was 30, certified him as a connoisseur of twits and cads. It also showcased Boyd's gift for spinning out old-fashioned tales that bounce along as smartly as a scriptwriter on holiday. Now, in his first collection of stories, the young author has edged a little closer to the genre of savage British satire written...