Word: crepes
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There was Nixon, in one of his infrequent campaign swings, confidently assuring a friendly crowd in Huntington, W. Va., that the remaining obstacles to a peace settlement would soon be overcome. And there was McGovern, darting about in a plane festooned with Halloween black and orange crepe paper, first casting doubt on the peace rumors, then gracefully if a little grimly saying that he hoped they were finally true. He argued that peace could have been achieved four years ago, that the antiwar movement deserved the credit for forcing the President to conciliate...
...place which spoke of nothing so much as madness. Los Angeles. Set by the sea, it was ringed and scored by hills, pitted with valleys, scaled with patches of desert. Its vegetation was alarmingly bizarre: palm trees reared up jaggedly, scruffy heads balancing precariously on long puny trunks; huge crepe-y hibiscus opened scentless blooms like red mouths; moon-pale magnolia flowers mingled their perfume with that of bougainvillea growing in thick purple mats over whitewashed walls--sickly sweet, heavy, overpowering. Disasters plagued the place: in summer, the hillsides grew dry as dust and would explode in flames, the fires...
...Prime Minister William McMahon arrived in Washington last week to discuss his country's alliance with the U.S. But who could concentrate on such matters when he brought along his wife, Sonia, a tall, smashing, 39-year-old blonde, who appeared at the White House in a white crepe evening gown that was slit up both sides, all the way from Melbourne to Brisbane? "I chose it for her," said McMahon, 63, a bachelor until six years ago. "I would never have been so daring," murmured Sonia, not very convincingly...
Naturally there were oodles of Kennedys. Eunice Kennedy Shriver looked ladylike in cerise taffeta by Cardin. Joan Kennedy, the wife of Senator Edward Kennedy, swirled by in lavender crepe slit to the tops of her thighs. But sitting two rows in front of Mrs. Robert F. Kennedy was an unlikely figure: an Australian girl in T shirt, blue jeans and bare feet. Having come to stare, she had been given a ticket by an unknown man. "Are you staying?" asked a bystander. "My God, yes!" she gasped, then padded dazedly to her choice seat...
...sensationally decked out in a long refugee coat by Mendes, tabbed and belted in webbing. It matched her bermudas matched to the cozy-collared, double-breasted battle jacket. On the lower level she was footed in Emm??? newly-designed shoes, like laced-up tennis sandals on thick crepe soles, in prairie green banded with jonquil yellow. She oohed and aahed the most when Canonero was brought out from his stall and admitted to being wild about all things Latin...