Word: lacing
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What becomes a legend most? The lace-trimmed cotton knickers displayed by Cockney Comic Marty Feldman once belonged to Queen Victoria. A collector of 19th century furniture and art, Feldman figured that nothing would be more Victorian than the royal underpants, so when he spotted them at a London auction he laid out a bloomin' $320 for the bloomers. Besides, patriotic to the nines, he "wanted to preserve part of England's heritage and to keep an Englishman's hands on Queen Victoria's drawers." She would not have been amused...
...jacket was matched with sexy blouses, narrow-brim straw hats and a variety of ties. Once noted for the austere tailoring of his classic pantsuits, Saint Laurent has now softened his approach. His showstopper: a black satin tuxedo suit whose jacket was opened to expose a decorative strapless black lace...
...numbers, the florists say, than at any time in the past decade and are regaining some of the manners that they felt superfluous when faced with militant wives or sweethearts. Women today are less apt to dress like sodbusters on a holiday, and frilly dresses, flouncy skirts, ruffled underskirts, lace, gauze blouses-all as feminine as possible-have returned to everyday fashion. Advertisements heralding coming spring fashions ooze lyricism, and sentimental trinkets and totems are booming. "Everyone is into hearts," says a Chicago shopkeeper, "the same way they were into peace symbols a few years...
...sleight of foot, he created a choreography of the human condition. In classics like Modern Times, The Gold Rush, The Great Dictator, objects spoke out as never before: bread rolls became ballet slippers, a boot was transformed into a feast, a torn newspaper enjoyed a new career as a lace tablecloth. Such lyric moments lifted Chaplin to pantheon status. He became the friend of kings and critics. Einstein sought him out; Churchill praised him. George Bernard Shaw called him "the one genius created by the cinema." Millionaires welcomed Charlie into their homes and their ranks...
Peering through the lace curtains at the elegant hallway inside, I knock timidly at the glass door. I hope only that my brother will be the only person awake in the house and that all of the dogs are safely locked away in some distant catacomb. On both points I am to be disappointed. After a few taps I hear a single distant barker, soon joined by another and then another. Suddenly I see that the whole hallway is a swelling mess of howling, leaping, nadly salivating dogs. All of them seem to be at least three feet tall...