Word: inked
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Meanwhile, Fairchild has plenty to occupy him in just churning out Women's Wear and battling for the midi. Field headquarters for the fray is Fairchild Publishing's grubby third-floor editorial room, a noisy, bare-floored relic straight out of Front Page, where editors shout and ink-stained copy boys scurry. A few feet away from Fairchild's scarred, wooden desk sits Publisher Brady, who starts the day at WWD by calling the top editors together for a brutal analysis of that morning's issue. "That sketch on Page One today is grotesque," he snapped at a recent session...
...never really noticed until it bungled." A lifelong slave of words and reasons, he envies the intensity with which Mandy perceives the world nonverbally through her four acute senses. Fascinated by attentiveness for its own sake, he frees himself for a time by tasting and testing along with her. Ink tastes like "charred toenail," bark is like vulcanized crab meat, and leather, "a taste here not of the meat or the fat next to the hide but of the fur once outside it and of seaweed iodine...
ISRAEL is rarely less comfortable I about its dependence on Washington than when the U.S. tries to act both as ally and Middle East peacemaker. Last week, almost before the ink had dried on a U.S.-arranged cease-fire between Israel and Egypt, the government of Premier Golda Meir issued a sudden, stunning alarm that the agreement had been violated. Israel had proof, Defense Minister Moshe Dayan said, that Egypt and the Soviet Union had whisked new missiles into the cease-fire zone, although both sides were specifically forbidden, according to the truce, to "change the military status quo" there...
...farm family in central Hupei province, seems to glory in a sort of peasant earthiness, much as Mao does. He likes to brag about his lack of book learning. "Even if you turn me inside out, you won't be able to find a drop of ink," he says. Huang normally smothers his meals in red peppers (the Hupei version of catsup), but in his Canton days he did develop a taste for a few southern delicacies, notably snake broth and dog meat...
...Radio City Rockettes, descend from the ceiling in sentinel boxes. Their number is followed by blonde-wigged nudes and a sleekly sophisticated pas de deux executed by a pair of Petit's dancers. Finally, following a flurry of furs, sequins and extravagant nudes, the inimitable Zizi appears. Her ink black hair is clipped into a skull cap, and her raspy, pushcart-vendor voice keeps the audience in thrall for two solid hours...