I CAN'T WAKE UP!
-- Barbara Stanwyck in "The Night Walker"
One night, very recently I decided to make myself
up like Joan Crawford (what a surprise!) before I went to sleep.
Clutching Joan's Oscar and her very own script for "Mildred
Pierce," I drifted off to dreamland.
I did not dream I was in my Maidenform bra, but I
did fancy that I was drifting down a deserted Melrose Avenue
in Hollywood. There, I noticed in a shop window a picture of
myself disguised as Joan Crawford.
That made sense, but the photo of myself as Gloria
Swanson was confusing.
Equally odd was the likeness, in the third shop window,
of myself as Dovima.
As I drew closer, I saw that I, Lypsinka/Dovima, was
on the cover of Vogue!
The pages of the publication opened and I felt myself
tumbling into the magazine like Alice moving through the looking
glass. I fell onto the stage at the Roxy as the crowd screamed
and I spun like a top, all the time wearing an Anthony Wong creation
made to look like a Girl Scout gone bad from drinking Chanel
No. 5.
As I spun like mad, the green of my ensemble morphed
into the greenery of Central Park, and the camera of my dream
pulled back to reveal me dressed in Joan Crawford's very own
wig (from the cover of her brilliant book "My Way Of Life")
and caftan, and holding Suzanne Farrell's mother's poodle.
The camera pulled even higher into the heavens and
I gained the epiphany of realizing that Joan Crawford isn't God;
Agnes Moorehead is!!
I roused myself from my dreamlike state and was grateful
to find that the two sailors for whom I am providing scholarships
were still in the next room!
photos by Hugh Halestooke, Albert Sanchez, Remsen
Wolf, John Epperson and Brian Theis
Son of Trog
Oscar Madness