Word: feathers
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Hitting a New High (RKO Radio). One of the few opera stars who can wear a feather skirt to obvious advantage is diminutive, fluty Lily Pons. A shrewd producer like Jesse L. Lasky, having seen petite Miss Pons in the gold brassiere and flowered wrap-around skirt of Lakme, could see at a glance that there was more in Miss Pons than met the ear. When Suzette (Lily Pons), singing in Paris with a jazz band, declares "It is to sing in opera that I would give my shirt," it is therefore not surprising that she should indeed trade...
Lacking a feather-skirted heroine (see above), I'll Take Romance follows a familiar cinema routine, its guiding milestones clearly visible from the outset. All along the dusty way are conveniently spaced settings for the Drinking Song from La Traviata, the duet from Madame Butterfly, the finale to the third act of Martha, the Gavotte from Manon and the Old Red Rooster arietta from She'll Be Comin' 'round the Mountain. The title song is a sweet-and-dreamy for the radio groundlings...
...thin purse. She got a Montparnasse garret so small that she had to lean halfway out of the window to paint at all. Already she had developed a style. She wanted to paint the mythical world of 1900 (eight years before she was born), when ladies wore feather boas and bright feathers in their hats, when gentlemen had whiskers and drank champagne. Because she was much prettier than any model she could afford, she painted herself...
...today under Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain who is colder to Geneva than even Mr. Baldwin was. Recently he dropped the League of Nations completely out of the annual Speech from the Throne (TIME, Nov. 8). Genial Lord Cecil spoke of his winning the Nobel Prize last week as "a feather in the cap of the League of Nations." Like many another British lord he has something of a weakness for the Nazis. "A plain, naked transfer of territory back to Germany would be difficult," said Nobel Prizeman Cecil last week. "I would favor the return of colonies [to Germany] being...
Dreams, nightmares, interminable abysses of utter blankness--these toyed with his defenceless mind. Unconscious, he moved about during the hours of the night. He ran down black alleys, he leapt over cliffs and fell through the air like a feather; he walked into a store with a big glass window and bought an automobile; a girl with a flopping white hat chased him up a flight of stairs (he remembered thinking that he had seen her face before. In Boston?): he saw beer cans dropping from the ceiling. Dawn approached, and his blankets and sheets lay messed...