In the past 10 days I’ve covered a lot of ground checking up on the average American Woman. I’ve looked you over in the freezing winds of Chicago, the record-breaking cold of New York and the polluting smog of Hollywood.
On this trip I have seen more female sights that were exciting and others to turn my stomach—the latter, naturally, in Hollywood.
As I sit here by the pool at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel I shake my head in wonderment that this city should be so burdened with two tremendous tragedies, its smog and its women. Mon Dieu! Both are such strains on the eyes I can’t imagine how the natives stand the pressures.
Let me describe to you just one of the ghastly monsters I saw strolling down Hollywood Blvd.
She wore a green hat made from Hawaiian palm fronds, long dingle-dangle earrings and a two-piece too-tight Capri set in a print as vivid as a fireworks display. All her flab was wound up in stripes going horizontally, making her rear look like an airport bus that had backed into a cement wall once too often. Over her shoulder hung a hand-tooled leather purse made in Tijuana, and on her feet, so help me, Texas boots.
The most surprising thing was that no one even gave her a second look. Obviously such sights are not the exception here but rather the rule. These are the daylight creatures. But if you really want to see some horrors you should glimpse what comes out of the shadows into the lights at night.
One thing I can say for cold weather. It at least keeps you American women covered up. I will admit, in all fairness to Hollywood women, that some of the covered sights in Chicago could do well to stay hidden under wraps altogether.
It is not true, though, as was reported in Chicago papers, that I said all women of that city are sloppy. I merely said that quite a few are.
I saw them with my own eyes, kerchiefs on their heads, and they wore coats that made many of them look like refugees from the Polar region. They staggered along in strange footwear at which even the poorest peasant in the Orient would turn up his nose.
And they need not write to me howls of protest claiming they have to look like bundles from nowhere because of the cold; I saw many women in Chicago who looked elegant and stylish bucking the same freezes that so many sloppy messes complain about.
It is absolutely not necessary for any women to look either like the frights of Hollywood or the blights of Chicago.
In the Chicago area it is bad enough that the men must face the cold of the blizzards and wind without having their blood chilled as well by the likes of some of you.
Get back to being a woman. Try looking the part by dressing the part. The appreciation you see in men’s eyes as they pass you by will warm your blood so high you might not even need such heavy coats.
By Count Marco
Printed in the Herald Examiner, 1962.
Count Marco aka Marc H. Spinelli, was a columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle and other newspapers. He wrote an advice column in the 60s and early 70s. At the height of his fame, he also appeared on his own daily television show, wrote three books, won prizes and developed a huge audience that was either amused or appalled by his words. The Count died in 1996 at the age of 77. If you would like to read more about the Count, see this link.
I hope you enjoyed reading this time capsule as much as I did. I found this newspaper clipping (and other treasurers) in an old box of family photos and memorabilia. More to follow!