Sharon Tate
- Thread starter Caty_conte
- Start date
I just got through reading "Charles Manson: In his Own Words" and it is a shame that the killers picked that house. They only picked it because a record producer that Manson worked with used to live there & they were going to kill him.
She is a beautiful woman
She is a beautiful woman
impossibleprincess
kabhi alvida
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post 88-the sunglasses, chanel, fur, boots-it's all beautiful. it's such a great outfit.
TheGlassAngel
VSFS 2009!
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She was a beautiful lady, didn't deserve what happened to her.
Caty_conte
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Hey everyone,
I saw this on the web:
http://www.bayraider.tv/2006/01/sharon_tates_en.html
Do you think it is really Sharon's engagement ring or a fraud?
CC
I saw this on the web:
http://www.bayraider.tv/2006/01/sharon_tates_en.html
Do you think it is really Sharon's engagement ring or a fraud?
CC
The ring is Sharons but it isnt her engagment ring. It was a costume piece ring and was given to Judy Gutowski (a friend of sharons) by Sharon or Roman after Sharons death. But it later got stolen from Judy and was found on ebay
. According to Debra (Sharons sister) the ring was handed over to lawyers after the ebay action, and she doesnt now what happend with it after that.
. According to Debra (Sharons sister) the ring was handed over to lawyers after the ebay action, and she doesnt now what happend with it after that.Caty_conte
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Hey Mina,
Thanks for that. That is very interesting. It's a shame they didn't just give it to Debra to keep. I've heard that Debra has a lot of Sharon's items and to me this kind of thing should stay in the family.
CC
Thanks for that. That is very interesting. It's a shame they didn't just give it to Debra to keep. I've heard that Debra has a lot of Sharon's items and to me this kind of thing should stay in the family.
CC
valleyofthedolls
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lady stardust said:i luv this pic of sharon!!!
source - ebay
i don't think thats sharon in that picture.
londoneast
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great thread of sharon tate
up4u.nethttp://s2.supload.com/free/sharon_tate5.jpg/view/
http://s2.supload.com/free/sharon_tate5.jpg/view/
up4u.nethttp://s2.supload.com/free/sharon_tate5.jpg/view/
http://s2.supload.com/free/sharon_tate5.jpg/view/
valleyofthedolls said:
Actually it is, because I remember seeing it on the sharon tate message board thinking like you "thats not her?! It doesnt look like her."
Oh and thanks for the pics londoneast i havent seen the second one before.
Caty_conte
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Thanks for posting the pics!
CC
CC
Caty_conte
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I saw this tonight while searching the web. I don't think these look like anything Sharon ever wh*re....
http://www.bayraider.tv/2005/07/sharon_tates_ea.html
What do you think?
CC
http://www.bayraider.tv/2005/07/sharon_tates_ea.html
What do you think?
CC
Caty_conte
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News
I am so glad that Sharon is still in the news and not just when mentioning her murderers.
Here are two recent articles that mention her in a great way!
:
http://www.businessday.co.za/articles/weekender.aspx?ID=BD4A330385
The sudden demise of the glitterati’s literati
JOSEF TALOTTA
JOSEF TALOTTA rues Style magazine’s death by drowning in a flood of franchised foreign titles
THIS month marks the last issue of SA’s iconic Style magazine. I’m in a bit of shock. I thought we’d always have a future together. You know what it’s like when you have a crush on someone and think you’ll somehow hook up later in life, even though you’ve both found partners? Now that opportunity’s gone forever.
I had applied — unsuccessfully — for the Style editorship when Jacquie Myburgh moved to ELLE magazine. In my twisted mind, I was a shoo-in, backed by some influential people in the Caxton publishing stable and known to its readers through my back-page column. One by one, the applicants fell away until a handful of editorial finalists gathered in an imaginary Dorothy Chandler publishing Pavilion for what I always considered the golden Oscar of South African magazine editorships.
I prepared my acceptance speech, charted out my budding career and — over the course of a few months — was perched on the edge of my seat ready to walk up to that great publishing stage in order to collect my prize. Finally, it was time for the announcement, complete with mental drum roll: “Ladies and gentlemen, the moment we’ve all been waiting for … Style’s new editor is … Naomi Larkin!”
I immediately collapsed and went into therapy. The following year was a cloudy haze of electric shock treatments, blood-spattered romances, intensive counselling, gym-as-crutch training, sweaty late-night dance-floor manoeuvres and other generic mid-life crisis pandemonium. I ultimately emerged stronger, if a bit cut down to size.
Turns out Larkin was nice. And extremely talented too, with legions of new-found fans in SA’s battered glossy posse — that insatiable tribe of freelance writers who report on champagne lifestyles for beer money. Energy-wise, Style was revitalised.
Larkin encouraged me to “up the game” with my column while fashion editor Robert Bell started producing edgy fashion pages giving the mag’s 1980s heyday a run for its money. And award-winning writer Adam Levin was back on its pages — producing provocative words of wicked wit and wisdom.
Style offered a number of unique selling propositions. Its advertising income was petit but potent, particularly noted for attracting the cream of SA’s jewellery industry players. And, unlike other South African me-too mags, Style literally owned the concept of Tatler-style glossy social pages for more than a quarter of a century.
With the exception of sales figures (its last Audit Bureau of Circulation figures saw it dip below the 9000 mark), things were looking up. Niche, but nice — although a far cry from its 1980s sales that crossed 40000-plus on a regular basis.
What went wrong? Its publishing house, Caxton — a notoriously mysterious bunch — offers little insight. A phone call to its publisher, Denise Stamm, got me as far as her PA, Stella Pike: “Oh, you’re from the press? She’s not speaking to the press about it." Loads of questions remain unanswered — like, why does the current issue urge readers to subscribe? And who, ultimately, held the knife?
Visions of Roman Polanski’s late wife, actress Sharon Tate who was murdered by the Charles Manson gang in 1969, come to mind. Is it mere coincidence that both Tate and Style were taken from us at the age of 26?
Like Tate, whose last film, The Thirteen Chairs, was released after her death, it’s difficult to imagine Style is really gone as its last issue is still on the newsstand. Both had campy mid-careers — Style in the 1980s, with its nonstop parade of Sol and Anneline, poof skirts and big hair; Tate in 1967’s Valley of the Dolls. Both were symbols of their times — Style as an icon of the “glossed tricky” 1980s; Tate — one of the first to flaunt miniskirts — as an icon of the “rich hippy” 1960s.
Of course, Style leaves an impressive body of work behind. Our inheritance? Franchised foreign titles: InStyle launches this month, joining a frenzied froth of glossy rags that have set up camp in SA in the past decade: Elle, Elle Decoration, Condé Nast House & Garden, GQ, Glamour, FHM, Men’s Health, Real Simple, Marie-Claire, O…
The legacy of the magazine is best described by the people who worked there, interviewed for an article, The Style Diaries, published on the occasion of the magazine’s 25th anniversary in December last year:
Josephine Brouard, Australian writer and author; Style features writer, 1982 to 1983:
Josephine Brouard, Australian writer and author; Style features writer, 1982 to 1983:
I remember hanging with Anneline Kerzner for 10 days for a profile piece I was writing. In those days, we had so much time to research stories, and even more time to write something really good — it was bliss! Anneline was a delightful, down-to-earth girl who was so comfortable in her skin — as you would be if you were her — and she didn’t try any of the usual celebrity claptrap like pretending to be something that she wasn’t.
I went with her to visit her mum and together we rummaged in her mother’s fridge just like two girlfriends would, hoping to find some tasty leftovers. Then, on another day, Anneline jumped into a spa bath at her Sandton mansion and asked me if I wanted to join her. I declined, horrified at the thought of sitting naked alongside one of the most perfect bodies in the world. Later, on yet another day, she, Sol, myself and a whole bunch of other people were hanging in the lounge having a few drinks and I subsequently got lost in the corridors of the Kerzner palace.
The pièce de résistance was when I completed the article and read it to Anneline, warts and all, and she brushed it all off with good humour, agreeing that it was a fair and accurate reflection of her lifestyle (at that time). The piece got published exactly as I wanted it … and I’ve never forgotten the refreshing laissez-faire of Anneline.
Andrew Donaldson, Style Cape bureau chief, Style deputy editor 1988 to 1998:
No other magazine captured that glitzophrenic era so perfectly. Lazy foreign hacks who arrived in SA would often lift huge chunks from our stories when completing their by-then mandatory black-and-white, us-and-them features on the country’s social divide. The country was burning, they’d tell their readers from some moral high ground, and will you get a load of this spoilt, diamond-dripping bunch? They’re out shopping, wired on cocaine.
Gus Silber, Style journalist 1985 to 1989:
I worked on Style at a time when white South African privilege and paranoia were at their peak, and a future none of us could even imagine lay just around the corner. The magazine was almost suffocatingly sexy in its airbrushed glossiness, with an undercoat of acetate and arsenic just a fingernail-scratch below the surface.
It was the perfect mirror of an age of excess and obsession, when men smoked John Player Special and flew in their jet-black helicopters to that casino in the crater of an extinct volcano, and beautiful women strutted around in skirts shaped like pumpkins, with hairdos that scraped the ceiling.
There is a book to be written about that period of South African history, between the aftermath of the Soweto Uprising and the day FW stood up to announce that the world was ending, and a new world would be rising in its place. Then again, why a book? Style was a magazine that served to record those times.
Adele Lucas, Style social columnist, mid-1980s:
To be the social columnist of Style was to be all-powerful and fawned upon by many. People I wrote about were Wilma Lawson Turnbull, Gail Schwartz, Mary Oppenheimer, Elsbieta Rosenwerth, Gail Behr, Gordon Mulholland, Marina Maponya, and many others.
Clare O’Donoghue, Style editor 1999 to 2001:
Taking over from Marilyn (Hattingh) was terrifying. She was formidable, behind those black Jackie O signature sunglasses that she wore day in, day out, indoors and out. She made Style what it was — the barometer of its time. They were difficult heels to walk in.
Richard Cutler, Style Dining Out editor, 1986 to 1999:
I particularly admired Marilyn who daringly shook up ordinary values. She refused to use asterisks for taboo words — we were the first South African publication to print the F-word — and gave free reign to the often outrageous ideas of Hilary Prendini, Gus Silber, David Barritt and, eventually, myself.
She tolerated my coined words like “gastronaut”.
Clare O’Donoghue:
Style had a reputation for upsetting people, and over the years had a number of lawsuits levelled against it — famously, the Reeva Forman case in the 1980s, when the magazine was fined millions.
During my two-year editorship, there was a legal incident that would have had the most seasoned, experienced editors sweating bullets. As a first-time editor, it was my baptism of fire, one that I recall now laughingly.
We were approached to run a story around Sol Kerzner’s private birthday party on a cruise in the Mediterranean — it was a fairly gossipy story with pictures of invited guests, some famous.
It was written by one of the party guests who assured me that she had full permission and accreditation from Kerzner to give us the piece for publication.
She didn’t. And this I discovered when a furious Kerzner called me directly from Manhattan, threatening a pack of rabid lawyers that would carve Style up into picas.
After a few days that saw me fantasising about ways to leave the country, the matter was amicably cleared up with Kerzner.
Adam Levin, Style journalist 1992 to 2002
When Marilyn hired me as a features writer in 1992, there were very few glossy local magazines on the shelves, and none committed to generating local content.
I had grown up in the 1980s, when Style had somehow managed to swing a class balancing act between an alluring, glossy lifestyle publication and a local, creatively adventurous version of Andy Warhol’s Interview, but what made it so attractive was its unique commitment to publishing good writing.
Working at Style during the transition to democracy provided its own set of challenges.
I remember our bold, zebra-striped cover in 1994, our endless debates on whether there’d ever be a black model on the cover — eventually we fought for a coloured girl, but had her eyes changed to blue in repro — long before other local mags took the risk.
Then, suddenly, before you knew it, the newsstands were flooded with franchised foreign titles, and Style began losing readers to titles that were formulaic and full of internationally syndicated material.
But Style remained quintessentially South African, and distinguished by its fine journalism.
Style, 1980-2006. RIP.
I am so glad that Sharon is still in the news and not just when mentioning her murderers.
Here are two recent articles that mention her in a great way!
:http://www.businessday.co.za/articles/weekender.aspx?ID=BD4A330385
The sudden demise of the glitterati’s literati
JOSEF TALOTTA
JOSEF TALOTTA rues Style magazine’s death by drowning in a flood of franchised foreign titles
THIS month marks the last issue of SA’s iconic Style magazine. I’m in a bit of shock. I thought we’d always have a future together. You know what it’s like when you have a crush on someone and think you’ll somehow hook up later in life, even though you’ve both found partners? Now that opportunity’s gone forever.
I had applied — unsuccessfully — for the Style editorship when Jacquie Myburgh moved to ELLE magazine. In my twisted mind, I was a shoo-in, backed by some influential people in the Caxton publishing stable and known to its readers through my back-page column. One by one, the applicants fell away until a handful of editorial finalists gathered in an imaginary Dorothy Chandler publishing Pavilion for what I always considered the golden Oscar of South African magazine editorships.
I prepared my acceptance speech, charted out my budding career and — over the course of a few months — was perched on the edge of my seat ready to walk up to that great publishing stage in order to collect my prize. Finally, it was time for the announcement, complete with mental drum roll: “Ladies and gentlemen, the moment we’ve all been waiting for … Style’s new editor is … Naomi Larkin!”
I immediately collapsed and went into therapy. The following year was a cloudy haze of electric shock treatments, blood-spattered romances, intensive counselling, gym-as-crutch training, sweaty late-night dance-floor manoeuvres and other generic mid-life crisis pandemonium. I ultimately emerged stronger, if a bit cut down to size.
Turns out Larkin was nice. And extremely talented too, with legions of new-found fans in SA’s battered glossy posse — that insatiable tribe of freelance writers who report on champagne lifestyles for beer money. Energy-wise, Style was revitalised.
Larkin encouraged me to “up the game” with my column while fashion editor Robert Bell started producing edgy fashion pages giving the mag’s 1980s heyday a run for its money. And award-winning writer Adam Levin was back on its pages — producing provocative words of wicked wit and wisdom.
Style offered a number of unique selling propositions. Its advertising income was petit but potent, particularly noted for attracting the cream of SA’s jewellery industry players. And, unlike other South African me-too mags, Style literally owned the concept of Tatler-style glossy social pages for more than a quarter of a century.
With the exception of sales figures (its last Audit Bureau of Circulation figures saw it dip below the 9000 mark), things were looking up. Niche, but nice — although a far cry from its 1980s sales that crossed 40000-plus on a regular basis.
What went wrong? Its publishing house, Caxton — a notoriously mysterious bunch — offers little insight. A phone call to its publisher, Denise Stamm, got me as far as her PA, Stella Pike: “Oh, you’re from the press? She’s not speaking to the press about it." Loads of questions remain unanswered — like, why does the current issue urge readers to subscribe? And who, ultimately, held the knife?
Visions of Roman Polanski’s late wife, actress Sharon Tate who was murdered by the Charles Manson gang in 1969, come to mind. Is it mere coincidence that both Tate and Style were taken from us at the age of 26?
Like Tate, whose last film, The Thirteen Chairs, was released after her death, it’s difficult to imagine Style is really gone as its last issue is still on the newsstand. Both had campy mid-careers — Style in the 1980s, with its nonstop parade of Sol and Anneline, poof skirts and big hair; Tate in 1967’s Valley of the Dolls. Both were symbols of their times — Style as an icon of the “glossed tricky” 1980s; Tate — one of the first to flaunt miniskirts — as an icon of the “rich hippy” 1960s.
Of course, Style leaves an impressive body of work behind. Our inheritance? Franchised foreign titles: InStyle launches this month, joining a frenzied froth of glossy rags that have set up camp in SA in the past decade: Elle, Elle Decoration, Condé Nast House & Garden, GQ, Glamour, FHM, Men’s Health, Real Simple, Marie-Claire, O…
The legacy of the magazine is best described by the people who worked there, interviewed for an article, The Style Diaries, published on the occasion of the magazine’s 25th anniversary in December last year:
Josephine Brouard, Australian writer and author; Style features writer, 1982 to 1983:
Josephine Brouard, Australian writer and author; Style features writer, 1982 to 1983:
I remember hanging with Anneline Kerzner for 10 days for a profile piece I was writing. In those days, we had so much time to research stories, and even more time to write something really good — it was bliss! Anneline was a delightful, down-to-earth girl who was so comfortable in her skin — as you would be if you were her — and she didn’t try any of the usual celebrity claptrap like pretending to be something that she wasn’t.
I went with her to visit her mum and together we rummaged in her mother’s fridge just like two girlfriends would, hoping to find some tasty leftovers. Then, on another day, Anneline jumped into a spa bath at her Sandton mansion and asked me if I wanted to join her. I declined, horrified at the thought of sitting naked alongside one of the most perfect bodies in the world. Later, on yet another day, she, Sol, myself and a whole bunch of other people were hanging in the lounge having a few drinks and I subsequently got lost in the corridors of the Kerzner palace.
The pièce de résistance was when I completed the article and read it to Anneline, warts and all, and she brushed it all off with good humour, agreeing that it was a fair and accurate reflection of her lifestyle (at that time). The piece got published exactly as I wanted it … and I’ve never forgotten the refreshing laissez-faire of Anneline.
Andrew Donaldson, Style Cape bureau chief, Style deputy editor 1988 to 1998:
No other magazine captured that glitzophrenic era so perfectly. Lazy foreign hacks who arrived in SA would often lift huge chunks from our stories when completing their by-then mandatory black-and-white, us-and-them features on the country’s social divide. The country was burning, they’d tell their readers from some moral high ground, and will you get a load of this spoilt, diamond-dripping bunch? They’re out shopping, wired on cocaine.
Gus Silber, Style journalist 1985 to 1989:
I worked on Style at a time when white South African privilege and paranoia were at their peak, and a future none of us could even imagine lay just around the corner. The magazine was almost suffocatingly sexy in its airbrushed glossiness, with an undercoat of acetate and arsenic just a fingernail-scratch below the surface.
It was the perfect mirror of an age of excess and obsession, when men smoked John Player Special and flew in their jet-black helicopters to that casino in the crater of an extinct volcano, and beautiful women strutted around in skirts shaped like pumpkins, with hairdos that scraped the ceiling.
There is a book to be written about that period of South African history, between the aftermath of the Soweto Uprising and the day FW stood up to announce that the world was ending, and a new world would be rising in its place. Then again, why a book? Style was a magazine that served to record those times.
Adele Lucas, Style social columnist, mid-1980s:
To be the social columnist of Style was to be all-powerful and fawned upon by many. People I wrote about were Wilma Lawson Turnbull, Gail Schwartz, Mary Oppenheimer, Elsbieta Rosenwerth, Gail Behr, Gordon Mulholland, Marina Maponya, and many others.
Clare O’Donoghue, Style editor 1999 to 2001:
Taking over from Marilyn (Hattingh) was terrifying. She was formidable, behind those black Jackie O signature sunglasses that she wore day in, day out, indoors and out. She made Style what it was — the barometer of its time. They were difficult heels to walk in.
Richard Cutler, Style Dining Out editor, 1986 to 1999:
I particularly admired Marilyn who daringly shook up ordinary values. She refused to use asterisks for taboo words — we were the first South African publication to print the F-word — and gave free reign to the often outrageous ideas of Hilary Prendini, Gus Silber, David Barritt and, eventually, myself.
She tolerated my coined words like “gastronaut”.
Clare O’Donoghue:
Style had a reputation for upsetting people, and over the years had a number of lawsuits levelled against it — famously, the Reeva Forman case in the 1980s, when the magazine was fined millions.
During my two-year editorship, there was a legal incident that would have had the most seasoned, experienced editors sweating bullets. As a first-time editor, it was my baptism of fire, one that I recall now laughingly.
We were approached to run a story around Sol Kerzner’s private birthday party on a cruise in the Mediterranean — it was a fairly gossipy story with pictures of invited guests, some famous.
It was written by one of the party guests who assured me that she had full permission and accreditation from Kerzner to give us the piece for publication.
She didn’t. And this I discovered when a furious Kerzner called me directly from Manhattan, threatening a pack of rabid lawyers that would carve Style up into picas.
After a few days that saw me fantasising about ways to leave the country, the matter was amicably cleared up with Kerzner.
Adam Levin, Style journalist 1992 to 2002
When Marilyn hired me as a features writer in 1992, there were very few glossy local magazines on the shelves, and none committed to generating local content.
I had grown up in the 1980s, when Style had somehow managed to swing a class balancing act between an alluring, glossy lifestyle publication and a local, creatively adventurous version of Andy Warhol’s Interview, but what made it so attractive was its unique commitment to publishing good writing.
Working at Style during the transition to democracy provided its own set of challenges.
I remember our bold, zebra-striped cover in 1994, our endless debates on whether there’d ever be a black model on the cover — eventually we fought for a coloured girl, but had her eyes changed to blue in repro — long before other local mags took the risk.
Then, suddenly, before you knew it, the newsstands were flooded with franchised foreign titles, and Style began losing readers to titles that were formulaic and full of internationally syndicated material.
But Style remained quintessentially South African, and distinguished by its fine journalism.
Style, 1980-2006. RIP.
Caty_conte
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And the second article...
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,840496,00.html
The Style of the '60s
For a few frantic years in the '60s, London—swinging and otherwise—became the center of the world of fads and styles. Now the inevitable outburst of reviews of the passing decade has begun, and among the first is a book, Goodbye Baby & Amen (Coward-McCann; $15), by British Entertainment Writer Peter Evans and Photographer David Bailey. Obviously, Goodbye is no serious history book. But neither is it just a picture book with filler text.
Bailey's highly subjective shutter shows Sharon Tate and Roman Polanski in a bare-chested embrace, looking like an older, less innocent reincarnation of Romeo and Juliet. Candice Bergen poses as though she belongs on the prow of a ship—and says that she "can't think of anything grimmer than being an ageing actress; god, it's worse than being an ageing homosexual." Rudolf Nureyev romps with Cecil Beaton; Jeanne Moreau presses her fingers nervously to her mouth; Malcolm Muggeridge scowls in fearsome closeup. And Fashion Designer Douglas Hayward remarks: "Everyone is so insecure . . . what can a Rolling Stone do at forty?"
Bailey did not merely photograph swinging London; he was part of it. As Evans puts it, Bailey was "the prototype of the dashing Cockney photographer"—and the prototype for the hero of Blow-Up. Other photographers, of course, collected a lot of money and a lot of girls. But few did it with Bailey's flair. A tailor's apprentice at 15, he was in his mid-20s when he bought his first two-tone Rolls-Royce (light blue on dark blue). At about the same time, he was traveling the world with his favorite model, Jean Shrimpton. Since then, there have been other cars, other trips, other girls. Now 31, Bailey has an annual income of about $100,000, an E-type Jaguar as well as a Rolls and two other cars, a beautiful and as yet undivorced wife in Catherine Deneuve, and a waifly, warm-hearted companion in 20-year-old Penelope Tree.
Not everybody, of course, likes Bailey. Or the book. One British reviewer called it "a lugubrious epitaph for our waning decade." Muggeridge called the whole effort commercial bananas. Even Bailey doesn't exactly promote it when he says: "I've done a superficial book about a superficial period." Maybe. But perhaps a more apt summing-up of Goodbye is its last-line appraisal of the decade itself—"It was great fun. Sure."
From the Dec. 12, 1969 issue of TIME magazine - a retro article!B)
CC
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,840496,00.html
The Style of the '60s
For a few frantic years in the '60s, London—swinging and otherwise—became the center of the world of fads and styles. Now the inevitable outburst of reviews of the passing decade has begun, and among the first is a book, Goodbye Baby & Amen (Coward-McCann; $15), by British Entertainment Writer Peter Evans and Photographer David Bailey. Obviously, Goodbye is no serious history book. But neither is it just a picture book with filler text.
Bailey's highly subjective shutter shows Sharon Tate and Roman Polanski in a bare-chested embrace, looking like an older, less innocent reincarnation of Romeo and Juliet. Candice Bergen poses as though she belongs on the prow of a ship—and says that she "can't think of anything grimmer than being an ageing actress; god, it's worse than being an ageing homosexual." Rudolf Nureyev romps with Cecil Beaton; Jeanne Moreau presses her fingers nervously to her mouth; Malcolm Muggeridge scowls in fearsome closeup. And Fashion Designer Douglas Hayward remarks: "Everyone is so insecure . . . what can a Rolling Stone do at forty?"
Bailey did not merely photograph swinging London; he was part of it. As Evans puts it, Bailey was "the prototype of the dashing Cockney photographer"—and the prototype for the hero of Blow-Up. Other photographers, of course, collected a lot of money and a lot of girls. But few did it with Bailey's flair. A tailor's apprentice at 15, he was in his mid-20s when he bought his first two-tone Rolls-Royce (light blue on dark blue). At about the same time, he was traveling the world with his favorite model, Jean Shrimpton. Since then, there have been other cars, other trips, other girls. Now 31, Bailey has an annual income of about $100,000, an E-type Jaguar as well as a Rolls and two other cars, a beautiful and as yet undivorced wife in Catherine Deneuve, and a waifly, warm-hearted companion in 20-year-old Penelope Tree.
Not everybody, of course, likes Bailey. Or the book. One British reviewer called it "a lugubrious epitaph for our waning decade." Muggeridge called the whole effort commercial bananas. Even Bailey doesn't exactly promote it when he says: "I've done a superficial book about a superficial period." Maybe. But perhaps a more apt summing-up of Goodbye is its last-line appraisal of the decade itself—"It was great fun. Sure."
From the Dec. 12, 1969 issue of TIME magazine - a retro article!B)
CC
Sharon Tate, Rest In Peace
i just watched the movie, i have no idea what's the title, but it was about 'manson family' , and ofcourse the murder of sharon tate... i read about it a lot, cos i am great polanski's fan, i just adore his work, but seeing the movie made the whole story more real to me... i feel a little stupid for writing about this, but i am very sad at the moment... and angry too...
why she had to die? she was pregnant for christ's sake!
what about her familly?
and, what about roman? he lost his familly in WW II, and then he lost his 26 yrs old wife with a baby... DAMN!!!
i have a big mess in my head now, and as i said i am very sad... i am pissed off,actually...
i have nothing else to say, but i don't understand how can someone be so unhuman and still stay alive... how could they kill her???????
and what is with so many RNR songs and summer of '69?
i just watched the movie, i have no idea what's the title, but it was about 'manson family' , and ofcourse the murder of sharon tate... i read about it a lot, cos i am great polanski's fan, i just adore his work, but seeing the movie made the whole story more real to me... i feel a little stupid for writing about this, but i am very sad at the moment... and angry too...
why she had to die? she was pregnant for christ's sake!
what about her familly?
and, what about roman? he lost his familly in WW II, and then he lost his 26 yrs old wife with a baby... DAMN!!!
i have a big mess in my head now, and as i said i am very sad... i am pissed off,actually...
i have nothing else to say, but i don't understand how can someone be so unhuman and still stay alive... how could they kill her???????
and what is with so many RNR songs and summer of '69?
