Word: mayfairs
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...thing is to sound innocent but almost have sexy adventures. And sound on the inside. Like mentioning that daddy is a noble lord every so often and using plenty of Mayfair slang. I tell how debs get through dull parties by hiding War and Peace in the loo of the Dorchester where the dances are given. But a girl has to have lived or something. Otherwise she'll be a drip. So I thought I'd throw in some sentences like. "Lesbians aren't my swooniest subject." I mean, it came naturally after I had that woman...
...just another girl from Middlesex who called herself a model-a euphemism as vague as "starlet" and with just as many implications. But leggy, redheaded Christine Keeler, 21, managed to move in Mayfair's smartest circles and numbered among her wide range of gentlemen acquaintances top names in London's political, social, diplomatic and show business worlds. Last week the social life of Christine Keeler, onetime waitress and fulltime playgirl, was all over the front pages of the British press...
...days, Timothy Wentworth Beaumont is the very model of a modern Mayfair gentleman. He gathers writers and politicians the way other men collect stamps, entertaining 30 or 40 at dinner each week in his opulent London town house. He has used his fortune lavishly to bankroll England's recent Liberal revival, and is chairman of the Cities of London and Westminster Liberal Association. He owns a small but influential string of magazines. He is an avid follower of the track, and his wife races a filly named High...
...never on Sunday. That is when Beaumont, 33, puts on his clericals and drives to St. Stephen's Church in Westminster to deliver the sermon or officiate at Holy Communion. For the man-about-Mayfair is also an Anglican priest, and the richest clergyman in England...
Over the years, the 100-room Cavendish had become Mayfair's best-stocked curiosity shop. It was crammed with mauve and red plush sofas, chairs, beds and chests, mostly of vast age and hideousness, and almost all associated with the ancient indiscretions of the illustrious that flowed from Rosa's memory like champagne from "cherrybums," as she called the Jeroboams that were consumed by the case. Her walls, lined with signed pictures, were a 'Oo Was 'Oo of her times...