Word: hairsprayed
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Sweat and paint and Rayette Hairspray sat heavily in the air. A girl with brown lines painted on her face blew on a banana (tied on a string around her neck) and wistfully described the Chunky bar she had eaten for lunch. Most of the other women in the room stared into mirrors, ratting hair, applying pancake, and blowing up balloons in the empty stretches of time, all over a continual underbuzz of conversation. Three men on the far side of a partition went through a similar, if quieter process. One man paced between the two make-shift rooms, alternately...
...room is small, but clean. Considering Lincoln Center only pays $54.00 a week, this is a nice place to live. There is a bed, a chair, and a bureau--the bureau graced with an artificial daisy placed in a real flower pot. Also on the bureau are hairspray and perfume bottles, 3 bottles of pills, a bottle of nail polish, a container of Finast black pepper, and a large cylinder of Diamond Crystal salt. There's also a blue china dinner plate with a snapshot of a baby on it. As I'm looking at it, Lary Ann returns...
...liberated woman. I wear a bra. I shave my legs, I wear mascara. I set my hair twice a week and have been known to use hairspray. I read Cosmopolitan magazine avidly and join World of Beauty clubs without giving much thought to their sociological significance. I use DippityDo hair-setting gel, Cover Girl medicated makeup, Deep Magic dry skin conditioner, and generally should be a source of great satisfaction to the American manufacturer...
TAKE the MTA one stop past Park to Washington Station. Let the fat ladies with shopping bags sweep you up the rickety wooden escalator. Turn left at the tattered John Havlicek for hairspray, climb up past tattered John hawking Record Americans, and you will find yourself on Washington Street--address of Boston's best skin flick parlors...
...know, when Doris starts crinkling her freckles and batting her luxurious spurious eyelashes, a male star is just around the corner. This time it is Richard Harris, a conversation-bugging double agent whose talent consists of electronic gimmickry and histrionic mimicry (principally of Richard Burton). The deodorant and hairspray espionage is supposed to concern itself with the sweet success of smell. But along the line it develops that Interpol is also involved. Someone has been blending hallucinogens into the cosmetics and shipping them all over the world-an LSDevice that gives the stars a chance to plod after a preposterous...