Word: torsos
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...himself competing for the ride with six narrow-panted Teddy boys. "Suddenly somebody lunged out," recounted Burton afterward. "Then a really small boy got me on the ground and I was helpless. They kicked me all over." The rascals got the cab, and Dickie got a black eye, a torso full of bruises and an unsightly gash on his nose...
...Girdle Needed. Once the uniform of ballet dancers (who wore the real, torso-covering thing), leotards were snatched from behind the practice barre, called tights, and put in department-store windows some five years ago. They were first shown under tartan skirts for college girls, and bought not as particularly proper but as overwhelmingly practical. No girdle or garter belt was needed, and no longer were knees, neglected between the long socks' end and the slip's beginning, left bare to redden in the cold; slips, in fact, might be completely forgotten, too, as the long tights were...
...would make love half-dressed in a bathroom five yards square with an old friend whom she was not in love with?" Who would? Françoise Sagan, that's who. Josée, languorous and French, is married to Alan, a rich American boy with a bronze torso, narrow hips, a sturdy neck and no job. Through a series of quickly turned scenes and even more quickly performed vignettes of sexual dalliance (involving half a dozen people in extraordinary geometries), Sagan follows their marriage to its inevitable dissolution...
Outwardly stern and arrogant, inwardly trembling, the two lads stand face to face in a room that smells of beer, blood and disinfectant. Each is dressed in a padded leather torso jacket, but except for steel-mesh goggles and noseguard, the head is vulnerable. Now each lad lofts a yard-long rapier with blunt point but sharp edges. At the umpire's "Los!" (go), they slash away-again, again, again-steel against steel for 15 minutes. The noise, astonishingly, is deafening. When steel slashes flesh, a doctor rushes in for repairs. Everyone happily retires to toast the prize...
Murder, She Said (M-G-M), "I'm the new maid." At this apparently innocuous announcement, the lady of the house looks up to smile a welcome. Her jaw drops. In the doorway stands a domestic disaster. The torso suggests a pup tent full of Jell-0, the hair looks like something dumped out of a vacuum cleaner, the chin resembles the business end of an ax, the eyes slide around like eggs on a plate, the tiny mouth might almost be a third nostril. The legs-it somehow comes as a surprise that there are only...