Word: perfective
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...soon-to-be-defunct address on Manhattan's Fifth Avenue was perfect for the tone of classy depravity that the magazine tries to project and that made it acceptable to a more sophisticated type of reader who might otherwise be embarrassed to be associated with porn. This is not about the objectification of women, it said, it's about harmless fun. And some good journalism. But with the anonymity and impermanence of the Internet (no more telltale boxes of magazines under the bed), there's less appetite for Playboy's now almost coy-seeming nudity. A girlie magazine located...
...processed. Yet sugar is okay. Sucrose is okay. It's only when you get to maltodextrin (a group of low-molecular-weight carbohydrates produced by the hydrolysis of starch) that people start saying, 'Wait a minute, that's going too far.'" (Read a TIME story about Blumenthal's perfect day in London...
...first scene from George Balanchine’s interpretation, arguably the preeminent version stateside. There is the hustle and bustle of lavishly-dressed Christmas guests making their way to the Silberhaus home, and there is the same wind-up Harlequin and Columbine—an almost eerily perfect Melissa Hough, whose triple pirouettes, wide unblinking eyes, and general look of tart, wooden sweetness was even more ideal than that of an actual porcelain doll. Rather than a toy soldier, though, Nissinen gives a virtuoso turn to a life-size bear danced brilliantly by Paul Craig in a costume that seemed...
...reading period progresses and each of us experience our own quarter-life crises, we would do well to put things into perspective. Who knew that musical theater could be the perfect therapy? With sweetness and humor, the Harvard-Radcliffe Dramatic Club’s “Nine,” which ran this weekend at the New College Theatre, took a director’s creative blockage—something many of us can relate to—and turned it into a laugh-out-loud tale of temptation, confusion, love, and show business. Inspired by Federico Fellini?...
...elevated feet. There is a strong sense of wonder to the production, but it maintains a dark undercurrent that makes it more the stuff of Edward Gorey than Dr. Seuss. And so “Aurélia’s Oratorio” manages to stay pitch-perfect, with a few exceptions. In one of the weaker moments, a disco ball appears onstage, and the generally unobtrusive score switches to an accordion-inflected circus song with fairly raunchy lyrics. The segment is too patently weird, and it belies the elegant and understated nature of the rest of the production...