The Washington herald., 1919-06-13

New York. June 12.@Thoughts
while window-shopping on Fifth
avenue: There goes Alice Brady and
her new husband-Dr. Frank
Cranes SON Hope nobody sees me
look In this corset shop window.
Wonder what's the difference be-
tween q corset cover and q cami-
sole? Sherry's closed and barred.
Looks lonely and strange.
Funny to see q horse and buggy
on the avenue Guy Bolton. the
playwright. with a swagger stick.
Gloria Gould with q Russian wolf
hound. Sad looking foreigner is
Dujom Panic. the Serbian sculptor.
Makes those low relief things in
marble All in the nude. Some
think IKE self-expression dancing.
can't get that high-brow stun.
Gosh! A mans fuzzy hat for $3S.
, There goes the movie actor that q
reporter caught having his hair
Marcel waved How do they net
that way7 Just heard that woman
say women's hats were to be cheap
er. Her milliner told her. Hope
it's true.
New cut rate drug store. Sell
everything but drugs. Even sell
bathing suits. Wish / could look
snappy In a bathing suit? Harry
Brown saw me at the beach once
and laughed himself into Mysteries.
Everybody thought I was advertis-
ing something.
Three Chinese children and their
parents. Wish could have a jap
valet Girl in the black and tan
roadster stars in one of the bed
room dramas. Funny how all the
successes are the Ostermoor COM
edies- Five young women appear in
hve different playhouses in "crea-
tions de mutt" or night gowns as we
say back in Gallipoiis. Here's a
chance for free ride home.
He was the average New Yorker.
He loved his wife, but when she
started away for the summer he felt
a sense of freedom that was intoxicat-
ing. For two months there would be
no domestic check rain to harmless
impulses. The conventions might
skid
The hrst ntght, aquiver with emo
tions. he went to his old-time haunt
the haunt of his youth-a Red Ink
Table d'Horte in the Roaring Forties.
IT was the usual type-the old home
with its French-gilt mirrors. red car
pets. framed cartoons. flower boxes
and plenty of win ordinaire.
Many of his old friends were there.
Most of them were failures-poor
painters, pot boiler journalists, Boil
sheviks, uninspired poets and the pro-
fessional philanderers. Too a few
short-haired young ladies were there
| drinking cognac and smoking cigar
cites and discussing everything free
from free verse to free love.
The average New Yorker looked on
and listened until midnight. He drank
red ink until he was dizzy and he
smoked Russian cigarettes until his
tongue was blistered. After midnight
he went home.
The next day he took the Adiron-
dack Express for the place where his
wife was spending the summer. He
| could not fan the dying spark of
romance into a flame.
Moral: 1t was always that way.
Two Horrors and a Gurgle! The
footnfen of Fifth Avenue are talking
| OF going on strike. In fact IL leaked
out the other day that they had held
meeting and would demand more
pay or walkout. The footmen are
those corpulent up-stage boys who
wear powdered wigs. military coats
with epaulets, short breeches and
| silk stockings-and are invariably
knock-kneed. You see them behind
the glass doors of marble entrances on
Fifth Avenue. l would just as soon
think of getting familiar with them
as I would with a floor-walker.
hope that they include in their de-
mands looser liveries. 1t always seem
to me that they are harnessed up so
tight that II they stopped suddenly
something would happen.