Word: sharkskins
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...both these visual keynotes have been replaced by the chaos of capitalism's dikaya zhizn, or "wild life": weather-beaten babushkas who beg from filthy sidewalks, marauding bands of gypsy children, Lycra-skirted strumpets cavorting with Western businessmen, bankers tooling around town in armor-plated Mercedes, mafia moguls in sharkskin suits who dine on Maine lobster with a $238-a-bottle champagne in five-star hotels. A sense of bewilderment plagues Moscow's residents as they attempt to sort out the conflicting claims of their half-remembered, precommunist culture from the hedonistic and corrupting pull of the West...
Shafts of equatorial sunshine pierce the jungle canopy and stained-glass windows of a tiny chapel, capturing the dictator's head in a halo of multicolored light. An imposing man in a gray sharkskin suit and shiny black shoes, he clasps his large hands and kneels in prayer, silently reciting the Eucharist service...
There are 688 works, ranging from Deco vases to documentary photos, from tiny collages to a reconstruction of Kurt Schwitters' Merzbau, from architectural drawings to a De Havilland biplane and a huge, sleek Type 41 Bugatti Royale, the ultimate dream machine of the 1920s, with sharkskin-inlaid running boards and a 12.7-liter engine, one of only six that were built before the Depression put an end to such automotive fantasies. Even the school kids, who race through the rooms of painting and sculpture, fall into an awed hush in front of this one, as their ancestors were once supposed...
Noenoelani, kneeling, chants and finger taps the puniu, a small coconut- shell drum lashed to the thigh, and thumps the pahu hula, a larger sharkskin- covered drum. Hauolionalani, leis at wrists and ankles, head erect, chants a formal request -- "Let me in, I'm cold" -- to be admitted to the halau, or dance school. Noenoelani replies as the teacher, "Come in, all I have to offer is my voice . . ." Her daughter begins the rhythmic, liquid swaying of the hula...
...name to circle on the program is Lindsay W. Davis '75 (class year proudly added) who is responsible for the sets and costumes. It seems as if the actors leap off-stage every 40 seconds, returning with a new costume even more hilariously appropriate than the last. Sharkskin jackets with velvet collars, peg-leg pants with built-in bicycle clips, skirts floating on clouds of crinoline, striped loafers and white bucks, strapless cocktail dresses revealing white powdered shoulders. The hats along bring a lump to the throat...