A bit of twenties humor from Vanity Fair's November 1922 issue answering the question "why our clubs are empty". The conclusion seems to be there isn't enough drinking, gambling, and witty repartee going on in the good ol' USA so everyone has to wing it for Paris.
Some part of me has always longed for a club like the one described here. Smartly dressed folks who are, put simply, smart gathering together for a bit of good conversation, a few stiffeners, and dinner in the club dining room where the staff has laid out a buffet of only the best. Makes me think of P. G. Wodehouse's Wooster and Jeeves...
No comments:
Post a Comment