Word: sarong
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DIED. DOROTHY LAMOUR, 81, actress who took to the road--sometimes sporting only her signature sarong--with Bing Crosby and Bob Hope; in Los Angeles. Though she starred in more than 50 movies, Lamour won over audiences--particularly G.I.s during World War II--with the seven road films she made with Crosby and Hope, surviving the jungle, a malevolent aunt and the wisecracking duo at her side who vied relentlessly for her affections...
Theroux's title, of course, is heavily ironic. Instead of happiness, he mostly finds apathy, ugliness and poverty -- not to mention once pristine waters fouled by industrial and human waste. The nearest thing to the imagined paradise of Hollywood sarong epics is the Big Island of Hawaii, where last July he watched an eclipse of the sun. The experience, Theroux writes, was akin to "the onset of blindness." When the sun returns, he kisses the woman next to him. "Being happy was like being home," he exults, and every reader will know...
Other recent entries in the category include KORS from Michael Kors, which markets $185 sarong skirts and $105 chambray shirts. Kors anticipates that sales this year will reach $15 million. Ungaro's Emanuel line includes a $360 houndstooth dress and a $195 gabardine skirt. Declares Ungaro: "A woman doesn't need a lot of money to be elegant. She can be chic with clothes bought from a supermarket chain." In the men's market, where the move toward lower- priced lines is less pronounced, second collections include Versace's V2 and Armani's Mani...
Loesser the Hollywood lyricist was Mr. Do-It-All. He wrote torchy stuff for gangster dramas and sarong songs for Dorothy Lamour. When collaborating, Loesser usually devised the lyric first, along with a "dummy tune" to suggest tempo and rhythm. Jimmy McHugh could compose a long, languid melodic line for Let's Get Lost because Loesser had compressed the intensity of new passion into the narrowest meter: "Let's defrost/ In a romantic mist./ Let's get crossed/ Off everybody's list...
...insists he is 14, and perhaps he is. But his sweet, uncertain face, as well as his dirty undershirt and blue-checked sarong, makes him look no older than eight. He joined after a Karen officer went to his village on a recruiting drive and his parents signed him up. He doesn't have a tattoo because, he says, "I'm afraid of needles." He is homesick but not so awed by his surroundings that he can't dread what lies ahead. "I have to do my military service," he says with a miserable smile, "but I'd rather...