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...deal with it and come to grips with it and relax. The happy hooker didn't cut it because she was young and beautiful; Flying's Isadora, though, was over 30 and sort of dumpy, she had cellulite and body odor; the housewife could relate. So here was the message--anyone could be raunchy...

Author: By Nancy F. Bauer, | Title: Victimizing Women and Readers | 10/28/1980 | See Source »

Western medicine bases diagnoses on specific symptoms, but traditional acupuncture determines treatment by reading your qi, or energy flow. To test a patient's qi, an acupuncturist examines a patient's skin color (coffee drinkers are distinguishable from non-coffee drinkers), listens to his voice, samples his odor (diabetics smell sweeter than non-diabetics), and most important, the patient's pulse...

Author: By Michael Stein, | Title: Doctors on Pins and Needles: Acupuncture Reaches the West | 10/6/1980 | See Source »

...Cambridge St. near Inman Square, Portuguese fish markets sell squid and saltwater delicacies; Portuguese bakeries send off the odor of fresh bread and pastries; community notices in the store windows are often in a Romance language. In fact, a good number of shoppers there probably don't know much English...

Author: By Susan K. Brown, | Title: Portuguese--Island Community | 10/4/1980 | See Source »

THERE ARE NO FLIES on John McPhee, only the slightest lines of sweat, not enough body odor to warrant mention. His writing is clean, disinfected. Everybody says his prose shines; as usual, everybody is right. But it's the comfortable shine of a well-oiled set of carpenter's tools, fresh from a whetstone. No dancing hot shine of flame, nc shine of the evening ahead playing off fender chrome...

Author: By William E. Mckibben., | Title: . . . But Not Good Enough | 9/19/1980 | See Source »

...nicely disguised as two lawns of gray-yellow dust on either side of Charlotte Street. The dust is thicker than the ash from Mount St. Helens. It fills the air. It smells of nothing organic but manure, yet even that smell is not precise; it is tinged with an odor at once dead and sweet. Only fragments in the rubble-wire nettings, a square of bathroom tile ?suggest that life ever existed in that place. Beyond the dust lawns, sudden green weeds have begun a crazy garden, as if the wilderness had decided to reclaim the neighborhood...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: New York, New York, It's a ... | 8/18/1980 | See Source »

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