Word: parisian
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...Camus had rocketed into the Parisian literary firmament and the existential orbit of Jean-Paul Sartre. During the German occupation Camus fired the morale of the underground with eloquent pieces in his clandestine Combat. After the war he personified, with Sartre, the "engaged" writer, an active intellectual always ready to slide down the bell rope of the ivory tower and answer the fire alarms of left-wing social and economic causes. The two friends split irrevocably in 1952 over Communist ideology, with Camus holding that ends never justify means ("For a faraway city of which I am not sure...
...presumably forbidden to him," said Cordier. The paintings indicated little more than a novice's groping attempts at abstract art, but they showed a high degree of artistic consciousness. They also gave proof that no matter how tightly sealed off Russian painters may be, there is, as one Parisian artgoer put it, "only one cosmos...
Personality: has scholar's bespectacled face, broad-shouldered body of an athlete. Excels at tennis, swimming and skiing, plays 15-handicap golf ("Maybe I'm good enough to play with President Eisenhower") and first-rate bridge. Much sought after by Parisian hostesses. Arrives late to work, leaves the office every night by 9 to dine with the family in his elegant Avenue Foch apartment. (Madame Gaillard, widow of one of France's wealthiest financiers, has two children by her previous marriage, a son by this one.) His chief handicaps: a malicious wit-"Nothing outside, nothing inside...
NEXT SUMMER'S SWIMSUITS for women will feature startlingly low-cut backs (down to the waist) contrasted with demure, high necks to cover up in front. In first trade showings, California swimwear makers are avoiding the new Parisian tubular look (TIME, Sept. 9), instead will draw in waists with belts...
...Marjorie Penrose's proselytizing Roman Catholic friend, Mrs. Pratt. Mrs. Pratt has a sweet tooth for vicarious sins, and she loves the gooey drippings of intimate confidences from flesh-bedeviled souls like Marjorie. About her person she dabs the odor of sanctity as if it were the latest Parisian perfume. But as she prattles of sin and piety in the quiet of Arthur Winner's garden, her innuendoes loose the first of the novel's rockslides of revelation. On the very day of his first wife's death, this pillar of respectability, this devotee of reason...