Word: muslin
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...small group of museum visitors was ushered into a gallery that had been made over to look like a gimcracked Victorian theater. The antique chandelier dimmed, and on stage the "Magnificent Scenic Mirror" (which Rathbone had found in the University of Pennsylvania Museum cellar) was slowly unrolled. Painted on muslin, it showed the myths and marvels of the Mississippi valley as sketched or imagined by one Dr. Montroville W. Dickeson, a Burton Holmes of the 1850s, and executed by the "eminent Irish artist" John J. Egan. What Egan's effort lacked in accuracy and technique was more than made...
...Camargo, who was the first dancer to shorten her skirts, and Marie Sallé, who, in 1734, shocked a London correspondent into reporting that "she has dared to appear . . . without pannier, skirt or bodice . . . Apart from her corset and petticoat, she wore only a simple dress of muslin draped about her in the manner of a Greek statue...
...will soon go on sale in 30 other stores in 16 other cities.) The inventor, John Moore, ex-aircraft engineer at Lockheed, got the idea from seeing aircraft engines packed with sacks containing silica gel (a deliquescent powder) to protect them from moisture. The turban of cotton muslin packed with silica gel will dry a woman's hair-after washing-in half an hour...
Expensive Bargains. Sophie designs by telling one of her $125-a-week modelmakers exactly what she wants. To save money, a "mockup" of the dress is usually made first, in cheap muslin. When this is satisfactory, the muslin serves as a pattern. Compared to her costs, Sophie's selling prices of $255 to $1,500 are comparatively modest. Example: in her most expensive evening dress, the ermine trim alone cost $500, the chiffon another $76, overhead and workmanship, $294. With the markup of 42%, the selling price...
...picks up a handkerchief with her teeth. But she shines in Soul in Search, satirizing the Dark Meadows dance in which Martha Graham rolls herself up in a black cloth which seems to symbolize the labyrinths of a frustrated libido. As Iva Kitchell, hopelessly mired in yards of purple muslin, thrashes about on the floor, she suddenly calls out: "Who am I-that seeks and searches and never finds? . . . Where shall I seek? Where shall I search? . . . Is it here where I am-or am I? Is it there? . . . " Soon she is crawling about the stage on her hands...