Word: greyingly
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1960-1969
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
Lonely Mat. She is 22, unmarried, slim, athletic, 5 ft. 4 in.-a blonde with blue-grey eyes, a firm and gracious definition of face, and full lips in a wide mouth that is often shaped in a wonderful grin. Refreshingly, the sense of sex that this composite production exudes seems intended to reproduce rather than destroy the best of mankind. Her father was a tea planter in India, where she was born. She went to a series of English boarding schools and London's Central School of Speech and Drama...
...black and grey Bentley snaked south out of Los Angeles along the Santa Ana Freeway, shook free of the traffic, and began to climb fast on a mountain road through the open country. At the wheel was a shapely brunette beauty?secretary, assistant and part-time chauffeur to the man in the back seat listening to Mantovani on a built-in stereophonic tape recorder. The car stopped on the mountaintop, where a friend was waiting; the man got out, a trim 6 feet with heavy-lidded blue eyes and an actor's dash. The wind riffled his wavy, iron-grey...
Where Is Everybody? The inevitable result is a family home in one city, a stopover apartment in another and offices in all three. The scramble around the infernal triangle jams airports, exhausts the commuters, gives waiting wives grey hairs. Important Brazilians are the hardest-to-find group of people since Atlantis sank. "I'm sorry, he just left for Brasilia" is the familiar refrain of harried secretaries...
...weekend began with Effie Taylor's party. Host was her uncle, Beverley A. Bogert. One of the dinner parties that night was given by Effie's mother, Mrs. John R. Crawford, and her husband for 250 of Effie's young friends at grey, sprawling Bailey's Beach Club; there were other dinners for "young adults"-and some for less young ones, such as Winston Churchill's ebullient son Randolph, 52, who flew over from London with an eight-week-old pug puppy he had brought for Janet Auchincloss's mother...
...satire strikes at the right: in one stunning vignette, Director Visconti (who in private life is the Count of Modrone) executes a mortal lampoon of the old nobility. The Prince and his family, after a long and dusty journey, go straight to church, and there the camera finds them grey with dust and incense and fatigue, propped in their gloomy niches like medieval effigies, like spirits of the dead come back to haunt the living. Sometimes the laugh is on the Left: at the Ponteleone Ball, which fills the final hour of the film with one of the most brilliant...