Word: garbo
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...often unpopular with the rest. Friend of writers and critics like Cyril (Enemies of Promise) Connolly and Peter Quennell, able to talk to them in their own jargon, yet without convincing anyone of her profundity. As flip, smartly turned out professional journalist, got to know Orson Welles, Greta Garbo, Cecil Beaton (who lent her a cottage on his Wiltshire grounds). Although needing no introduction to high society, she was befriended by the Duff Coopers, Lord David Cecil and Lord Salisbury, good friend of Eden...
Summer guests at a hotel in Bad Ischl, in the Austrian lake country, noted the hand-in-hand riverbank walks of Baron Goldschmidt-Rothschild, 61, and a grey-wigged fellow guest who called herself Mrs. Harriet Brown. Beneath the wig: 46-year-old Incognito Expert Greta Garbo, who had shifted from the usual sun glasses to the trappings of middle age. But to reporters who finally penetrated the disguise, Garbo gave the same old answer: "I don't want to talk to anyone . . . The Baron is just a very good friend...
...France, a U.S. sailor, lunching with a shipmate at Juan-les-Pins' chic Municipal Casino, bet his buddy a dollar that the slim woman under the huge hat at a nearby table was Greta Garbo. The headwaiter relayed Greta's denial: "Sorry, the name is Brooks...
...sweet period of Greek art." She lives among the "beach bums," the has-beens and would-be's of Hollywood. Mollie becomes Mike's "protege" in a sun-decked beach house on Cortez Beach ("better than Malibu"). Mike figures he can mold Mollie into another Garbo. Between picture takes, they swap dialogue. She: "That moon looks low enough to bite." He: "I have got a terrible yen for you. It's like a stomach full of broken glass." When words fail him, Mike swabs beach-tar stains off Mollie's feet and kisses her "long thin...
...Harper's Bazaar, Novelist-Playwright Truman (The Grass Harp) Capote recalled a touching secondhand memory of Greta Garbo: "I stopped by the apartment of a friend who previously that afternoon had entertained Garbo at tea. As I entered the room and started to sit down in an especially comfortable-looking chair piled with pillows, my friend, a very sane fellow, suddenly asked would I mind not using that particular chair. 'You see,' he said solemnly, 'she sat there: the dent in the little red pillow, that's where her hand rested-I should like...