Word: plushly
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...plush, carpeted office in down town Lima, one of Peru's top money men sits surrounded by symbols. Piled high on his desk are flocks of loan requests and the latest figures on competing banks. On one side of the office are shelves crammed with books on banking and credit. On the other side, a hatstand holds a clerical collar. Working comfortably in an open-necked white shirt, Lender-Missionary Father Daniel McClellan, 50, explains to visitors: "The French have their worker priests. Well, I am a capitalist priest...
...SCENE ONE. Jack Aspinall's Clermont Club on Berkeley Square, located in an 18th century town house, small, plush and, since it opened in 1962, almost incredibly exclusive (the membership fee of $84 a year is a trifle compared with the need for the "proper credentials"). Time: a weekday night. After a late, after-the-theater supper with friends at Annabel's, London's leading discothèque (which happens to be right downstairs), the handsome son of a peer breezes up for "a spot of chemmy." Chairs are found for his group to watch; drinks...
...appearance and manner is almost prewar. Men stalk the narrow, cobbled lanes of Warsaw's "Old Town" clad in ankle-length leather overcoats. The taxi fleet of Budapest is made up largely of Russian Pobedas, whose grillwork and lumpy chassis resemble those of ancient Plymouths. In the faded plush elegance of Bucharest's Athenee Palace Hotel, violins sob Wien, Wien, Nur Du Allein with a sentimentality unmatched since Grand Hotel. More than 300,000 Westerners made Hungary their destination; there they dined on goose liver sautéed in butter at Gundel's, or listened...
...name is engraved on the facade, there's a huge framed picture of Sir Winston inside (Lady Churchill permitted use of the name), and a Watney's ale truck draws up regularly to replenish the draft. Inside, the effect is super-lush, with deep red plush seats, red-globed lamps, lots of traditional dark wood and highly polished brass fixtures. "Of course it's not a real pub. It's a parody of a pub for the French bourgeoisie," says a bearded Bait called Slavik, sipping his Old Forester bourbon neat. He should know...
...genteel affair. To and fro across carpeted floors swept the art lovers, sipping sherry. Safely up on the wall were the paintings, framed and titled, with prices on request. But no longer do the panes of varnish give onto idyllic visions of pinky Titian nudes, fluffy Millet sheep, plush Poussin valleys. Nowadays, avant-garde gallerygoing is more like the full 100 yards, with the visitors swivel-hipping through art works that threaten to tackle the visitor's body as well as his sensibilities (see color pages...