Strange how people act now as if they all need to be cured of something. The Eskimos play the Charleston. Naked shoulders, pigeon toes and knock-knees flail away in dresses that hang from the shoulders instead of rising from the waist like the dresses her mother still wears. Her mother taught her that beauty was grace and presence. Now it's drape and cuteness.
Men are cute, too.
They have shiny hair and they chop away at the floor with their shiny shoes. They wear tuxedos. All men do now, even gangsters at those incredible funerals with tons of flowers. Joan watches George stride across the ballroom in his tuxedo. He shoots his jaw and looks manly, as if he were posing for an Arrow Collar ad.