Word: pastel
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...become a glistening silver embroidery on rose velvet. All of Close's art recalls his fixation on this effect, the brain seeking illusion in pattern, questing for clues: Close will break a face down into round dabs of oil paint (as in Self-Portrait, 1986), or spots of pastel, or even thickly textured platelets of papier-mache glued on top of one another, looking to extend the ways in which repetitive, grid-organized painting turns into the irresistible semblance of a face. All the time, the surface gets richer and more baroque, a far cry from the uninviting...
...other words, a place you might envision as fashion's capital of spartan black. On a northern tip, though, sits a tiny 1 1/2-year-old shop named Calypso, where, on any given weekend, stylish young shoppers slither past one another to get at a collection of near-sheer pastel sweaters, lacy skirts, candy-colored coats and dusty blue slip dresses, coquettish clothes (most by little known designers) meant to let any suitor know that the woman in them doesn't call first and never goes dutch...
Moments into our Leisure-World experience, we found ourselves walking a rat-sized dog named Lady along spotless sidewalks. While Lady, appropriately accessorized with a pink bow and a tumor half her size, waddled through pristine gardens, we relished our inter-generational paradise. Surrounded by Buicks, pastel buildings, and sweater-clad dogs, we truly had stumbled into spring break Twilight Zone...
...Peter Gallagher, walked onto the set. I was immediately assailed by the art-deco-neon-overload-meets-industrial-constructi on set, complete with a live band, stacks of old books as props, local stand-up comic Greg Fitzsimmons as host, two attractive brunette "hostesses" (Heather and Shonda) in tight pastel blue outfits and a giant brain sitting in the center of the set. "`Jeopardy' on acid," I thought...
...there were no mysteries, no shades of gray. Every question had an answer, every answer had a point value and at the end of the game, I knew just how much everything I knew was worth: a TV, a surround-sound stereo system, a free vacation, leggy pastel-clad women clinging to my arms in celebration as the closing credits rolled, a front page photo in The Harvard Crimson, recognition by drunken partygoers, the list goes...