Shearer and Crawford... later

Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford, with producer Jerry Wald, at a party in Hollywood, 1959.  Photograph by Eve Arnold.

One imagines that the warmth of their embrace wasn't entirely sincere.

Norma Shearer and Tyrone Power, publicity for Marie Antonette, 1938

If only he had had anything of her wonderfully energetic histrionic fervor....

Adrian's negligées

Norma Shearer in "Riptide", 1934.  The actress had such a great on-screen fondness for pale, barely-there, bias-cut satin gowns - quite
interchangeably evening frocks or negligées - that her coworkers referred to them all as "Norma's nightgowns".

Jean Harlow in straw-beads and marabout for "Dinner at Eight", 1933.  Adrian's most outrageous and most revealing negligées were
appropriately reserved for Harlow.

Greta Garbo in "Mata Hari", 1931.  As the photo reveals, this was a nightgown that really wasn't.  So much - or little - in fact, that this whole
seduction scene was soon cut from the film; we now merely see the un-self-conscious Swede waking the next morning, her un-negligée
discretely hidden by the bedclothes and a spray of orchids from her only recently departed lover.

Norma Shearer, two portraits by Hurrell, 1934

Norma Shearer and Clark Gable, "Idiot's Delight", 1939

Norma Shearer in publicity for Smilin' Through, 1932

"Gowns by Adrian."

With Fredric March.

With Leslie Howard.

In the second of three filmed versions of the same story, Norma plays the dual role of Moonyeen Clare, a bride who is accidentally shot on her wedding day (!), and the niece of the same, the orphaned Kathleen.

 (The following photographs by Hurrell.)

Norma Shearer and Basil Rathbone in The Last of Mrs. Cheyney, 1929

"Gowns by Adrian".

Stumble and grace

When hiking up in Forest Park, I'm continually astounded that many, if not most, of those whose path I cross are runners.  The Wildwood Trail is beautiful, but with all the tree roots and rocks popping out all over the place, it can be more than a little dangerous unless you're paying very close attention to where you land your feet.  The photos above give some idea, but even more dangerous are the little root-y hazards that aren't at all so obvious; I've tripped so many times on the subtlest bits of root that, with the fallen leaves and dappled light, I could barely make out against the same-colored surface of the path.  

And yet all these people keep flying by me, their heads thrown back, seemingly unconcerned with any potential leg-breaking or tooth-scattering disaster.  Maybe when they really get going properly, there's a bit of elevation, and their toes don't catch on things so much.  Or maybe their feet have a sort of sixth sense for all the roots and rocks and are able to avoid them without much effort.  Kind of like the happy relationship I had with dog poop in Paris; I seemed to have the most excellent radar and never put a foot wrong.

But up on the trail I'm so prone to stumbling that I can't but gaze down at the ground in front of me the whole way; if I want to revel at the glory of nature - or take a necessary swig of water - I pretty much have to come to a complete stop.  I think maybe I don't lift my feet very much when I walk.  Perhaps I've got a bit of a "Versailles glide", that peculiar gait used by the ladies of the French court, moving across the parquet without lifting their feet, seeming to float rather than walk.

Yes, that must be it.

 (I don't think Norma has quite got the "glide", here, but I believe you get my point....)

A Norma moment

Just dreaming of Norma Shearer's Marie Antoinette (1938) and thought I'd post this image from a Hollywood, shimmering at its very starriest heights. The moment the dauphine and count Fersen first meet, on the staircase of a gambling house, Norma turning her full-wattage glamour on (a sadly dull) Tyrone Power.