Word: fashionability
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...club are elusive, the admissions committee invisible and capricious. A college degree (even a Ph.D.) has long ago ceased being enough, and even college professors are by no means automatically intellectuals. Many of the touchstones, used not only by the public but often by intellectuals, are part of folklore, fashion, even caricature. Given the same amount of education, a Democrat is apt to be considered an intellectual, but not so a Republican. Some labor leaders used to be intellectuals ex officio, but not any more. Politicians, even with academic degrees, are almost automatically out, unless they write books...
Though filled with plot-happy cartoon Commies, Flora is strangely plotless. A stammeringly angry young Red (Bob Dishy) sweet-and-sour-talks a guileless fashion illustrator (Liza Minnelli) into carrying a card. When she surprises him with a half-undressed, wholly unabashed, free-love enterpriser (Cathryn Damon) and discovers that the chip on his shoulder is his head, she rips up both card...
...transformed rock 'n' roll from a noise on the transistor radio into a teen-age style. For the first time since the decline of the jitterbug, teen-agers had a new dance, and soon, at Manhattan's Peppermint Lounge, the famous and near famous discovered its uninhibited joys. Fashion reacted dexterously. To provide freedom of motion, dress designers shortened skirts and loosened waists to turn out what soon came to be known as the discotheque dress. Nobody, but nobody, went to a mere nightclub any more...
Those who did have the Courreges to fight the mob included Baby Jane Holzer, Marion Javits, Cyd Charisse, and in the train, massaging his temples, a harassed Huntinaton Hartford. But the cynosure of all thighs was Arthur-coiffed Rudolf Nureyev, whose lap, noted Fashion Writer Eugenia Sheppard, "was the most 'in' place for any woman to be Wednesday night." Rudi had an embrace for Tennessee Williams, but f rugged first with Sybil...
...most charming cashews. Refining action painting, which was supposed to spread the oils around, she hit the target in 1960 by attaching bags of paint to canvases, then blasting them with her .22-cal. rifle. Now that the quick-draw days are over, she has popped back into fashion with hairy sculptures tattooed with more images, inscriptions and plain gunk than any statue in the park. Her Sappho, lounging beneath a tree fruited with a skull, slouches like an Eve who has waited in vain for Adam a thousand years. Or France's Arman, 37. He accumulates things like...