Word: tweed
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Continentalism is as hard to study as it is easy to incur. Its relatively new thread is often hard to single out from the longer-established strands of traditional New England Anglophilism, or impotent Cambridge bohemianism, or merely the shabby genteel. Are that tweed cap and turtleneck sweater and that pair of Colin Wilson glasses long standing affectations, with family sanction, or have they been induced by a fortnight in London? Does that hawk-shouldered young lady with the unattached hair and dangling earrings long to be at Mary Vorse's place instead of the Mandrake? Or is she dressing...
Parsifal on the Capehart. When Mummy finally stumbled out of her marriage to John Barrymore, she married Wall Street Attorney Harrison Tweed, returned to the Social Register and determined to make a lady of Diana. The girl was sent to Miss Hewitt's Classes (where "the Astors and Vanderbilts always voted for each other in class elections"), to the Brearley School and to Garrison Forest, where her father wound up in a necking session with one of her schoolmates. ''You look like a clown riding to a circus!" Mummy would scream if Diana hit an off note...
...missilemen contemplate Ben Schriever, a tomorrow's man who often runs his command post in a grey flannel suit or tweed sports coat and slacks, who decorates his command post with an impressionistic oil painting of the U.S.'s first liquid-fuel rocket superimposed upon a plumed Chinese war rocket supposedly used by the Kin Tartars at the seige of Kaifeng (12321,* they recognize him as tomorrow's man. "Discerning, thinking leader . . . outstanding and extremely tenacious manager ... he has a big project concept" they say, adding that they "have great regard for his motivations." For Ben Schriever...
...newspapers: "S.O.S., S.O.S. to all Scotsmen . . . Let us prove that Scotsmen can fight for their precious heritage." To 1,000 crofters of both faiths at a mass meeting. Father Morrison stated the case: importing "9,000 aliens" (4,000 soldiers and their families) would wreak havoc with the livestock, tweed, seaweed and egg-packing industries. Said he: "The range will have to be built over our dead bodies." When the Air Ministry showed no disposition to re-roost its rockets, 16 crofters flew to England to harass the aliens on TV. Last week Father Morrison began talking ominously...
...only should our dress and speech improve considerably, but our social status should climb enormously. But we are worried that when we get to Yale we may not be socially acceptable, as we've been told at several Harvard-Yale football games (by young men with pipes, tweed jackets, and superior attitudes) that we were not shoe. This word has puzzled us for some time, but if we get to Yale we would no doubt learn very quickly. Won't it be grand to be a shoe, or is it shue...