"We had faces then!" Or something to that effect. I think it must be the constant deluge of magazine covers with your Lindsays and your Ashlees and your Parises (Pari? Pariahs?) that gets me all nostalgic for the glamour and allure and cheekbones of old Hollywood. Your Garbos and Dietrichs and even Crawfords (before she started drawing on her own eyebrows aith a Sharpie) Your Clarence Sinclair Bulls and your George Hurrells. I mean don't get me wrong, I like looking at Scarlett Johanson as much as the next guy, but it's rare that you see glamour photography nowadays that showcases female beauty without big arrows pointing to a cavernous cleavage.
Jeez, I sound more like a codger every day - I gotta stop watching TCM.
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