Word: shirt
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...once familiar "thin it out some on top, and no machine on the sides" has given way to an operation that sometimes lasts three hours, may include everything from a permanent wave to an eyelash tint, and can cost as much as twenty bucks. Like ruffled shirt fronts and cuff links the size of poker chips, it all seems to have started in Hollywood...
King Edward VII refused to dine at friends' houses unless Rosa was there to cook the bland, boiled food that, in her words, "would not spill down is shirt front." Edward was an ardent patron of the hotel, which had a private entrance around the corner for merry monarchs and squires on the spree; as Prince of Wales he reputedly bankrolled his blonde, blue-eyed friend when she bought the Cavendish in 1902. "One king leads to another," she used to say. Soon the Kaiser became one of her best customers, and grew so fond of her cuisine that...
...shambled across the 18th green like a young grizzly bear, his pudgy face ruddy from the sun, his white cotton shirt soggy with sweat, his cream-colored cap perched precariously on the back of his close-cropped blond head. Tournament officials clustered anxiously on the apron while grey-uniformed state troopers strained to hold back the surging gallery; on all sides, TV cameras zeroed in to carry the scene to 9,000,000 home viewers across the nation. But Jack Nicklaus might have been alone on a practice green for all the emotion he displayed. Intently, impassively, he hunched over...
Just to show that he's still one of the peasants, Cuba's Fidel Castro likes to don a wide-brimmed straw hat, peel off his starched green uniform shirt, and work up a good sweat by chopping away in the sugar-cane fields. Last week he had some hardly reassuring words for his fellow cane workers struggling to get in Cuba's drought-blighted and sorely mismanaged sugar crop. Conditions in Cuba will surely change for the better, said Fidel, "in ten or twelve years...
...should be "intellectual." They point out that the "playboy" is a dying cause that went out with the Gold Coast and postwar Radcliffe, and crusade to exterminate the last real menace to the Harvard community, the "jock." He's a crude, embarrassingly inept social thing in an HAA sweat shirt--a C student at best, these people maintain, as they request more scholarly replacements to beef up the total intellectual output of the College. The most common disagreement is with the admissions policies of the University, which, they say, "have been guilty of admitting too many jocks...