oh-la-la

"I came West and saw clothes that are so simple and so well bred that only the most dashing beauty could hope to make a dazzling first impression in them. Not a bangle. Not a fake gardenia. And I think it is a shame. It is also dead wrong, if you feel, as I do, that fashion must be adjusted to its immediate surroundings. The maps may label it a city, but Los Angeles has scenery that is lush and overdone. The whole place cries for color and a certain extravagance on the part of its public—and what happens? All around town, women with pretensions to chic are wearing tailored suits and well-cut woollen dresses. It is hard to find a plain silk dress here, and despite the heat, nobody wears prints after September because, well, the calendar says it’s football weather in Connecticut. The burning sun, beating down on white stucco, has been dimmed by the New York-Paris reporters, who have said, over and over, that only tailored clothes are appropriate for the streets. Among the gray skyscrapers, a slick tailored suit and a fur scarf and a slashing black hat are in tone; the costume is essentially out of place among the palms. I also think that it is uncivilized not to change for dinner from your working clothes at the end of the day, and my complaint, therefore, is that Hollywood doesn’t dress enough. After I’d said this, two designers, saved by the bell, were carried to their corners, where seconds worked desperately to revive them."