Word: satin
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...partygoers invited to Ambassador Ardeshir Zahedi's Valentine's Night bash. The guest of honor: Pop Artist Andy Warhol, who earlier in the day had met President Carter at the White House. "Terrific, terrific," was Warhol's response to everything, including the centerpiece on the red satin tablecloth: a 3-ft. floral heart adorned with an oversized Campbell's Soup...
...inches--straight up--of hari, "the handsomest man in rock and roll"; Carole King more than a decade ago, starched, prim, and complete with bouffant hair-do; and three grinning Marvelettes ("you can call me up and have a date, any old time"), spike-heeled and poured into satin and sequin sheaths--to mention just a few. The pictures are abundant, and cliched though it may sound, they capture the excitement, the innocence and the defiance of so much early rock with greater clarity than most writers could ever hope to achieve...
...took to her toes tentatively during A.B.T.'s run at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. A month later, a very nervous Swanhilda waited in the wings at City Center in Manhattan as the curtain rose on A.B.T.'s opening-night Coppélia. Scarcely had her satin shoes flashed into view, when the first volley of bravos rolled through the theater. The orchestra played on for several bars, then stopped. Gregory, misty-eyed, curtsied for more than two minutes before the show could proceed. In the dance world such a demonstration is rare...
...family tug of war seems to be under way. "Just plain Jimmy" is not fond of black-tie dress for those nighttime parties, let alone the white-tie-and-tails costuming of inaugural balls. But Wife Rosalynn, out of understandable sentiment, is apparently determined to wear the same blue satin gown she wore on the evening of her husband's inauguration as Governor of Georgia in 1971. That would mean Jimmy would have to dress up too. Intimates are betting that Rosalynn will...
...rattan cane. They are without pretension, and hardly displace air at all. They read as a shimmer of color, sails in the light. Off the beach, past the rattling leaves of the sea grapes, two ambiguous planes meet: the shallow coastal water, slicked with weed, taking the light like satin; and the pale sky, colored the rinsed blue of a Tiepolo ceiling. A pelican lumbers by, just airborne, printing its ragged prehistoric silhouette on the fabric of the scene. Once again, as for the past two decades, Rauschenberg's art drains back into its source, the world...