Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1938)

Plain Girl in Paradise (Continued from page 17) Blywood scene. So, if you deviate film the routine of Vendome lunches, Rcadero dancing, Saturday at the ries, a week end at Palm Springs, you a "special." And that's what you want tcbe — for a successful holiday. remember the office I walked into I second day I was there toward the ■ of the Santa Anita racing season. happened to be a Friday. A tall, beiJctacled fellow in the publicity deMtment said 1 could visit one of the | the next day, to see a famous star rlaction, but added: "Oh, but tomor•&'s Saturday. You'll be at the races." No, I won't," I told him, eager for nj glimpse of a favorite. Why not?" jheer dumbness prompted my re I "Why should I?" he young man looked over my head » met the knowing gaze of his officenle. Then, with a gesture of self[1 egation, he said: "Would you like c|;o to the races with me?" f hesitated for a moment, thinking rickly of the alternative prospects. I I think I'd rather visit the lot," I el candidly. "I never go to horse races tfiome. Why should I do something Me that I could do at home, if I wanted ■ I can't visit a studio at home. So es go there." iDkay, lady," said the publicity man, I. he was grinning. "I'll save a lot of Iley if I take you on the lot." |fe didn't — for Saturday night we ■=d together, and I wore an orchid •my shoulder, and we danced until fee and arranged to drive to San Inardino the next day, which must me cost much more than betting at U±a Anita would have cost. But the Rng man seemed to feel it was worth t I was, he told me solemnly, "a lath of fresh air." He saw nothing Iny in that expression in the land of eh air and sunshine and artificial I EY do tell you things, when you pan ambitionless visitor. Take down P.r back hair and confess their sins I the sins of others; the racy gossip d\ city where there is the longest and ■t dazzlingly painted back fence in h world, over which more chitchat fees than in any other one spot Bwn to man, with the possible exstion of the Court of Louis XIV. [Jid I'd pit Sardi's on a rainy night ifinst even Louis' salons!) /ho doesn't enjoy getting, at first Id, "just between you and me — " lit even Hollywood columnists can't int? What So-and-So did at Palm i; ings the time he went there incogl>; how Such-and-Such lost her job It'the height of her power; why the a; ous co-stars refused to make anpr picture together; how the matinee c' happened to marry before he beE te famous. It's fascinating hearing ut you wouldn't hear it if they 1 tight you knew anybody to whom to c it. "'hen there are the more intimate Wigs. Why a man couldn't get along s'a his wife, who was oh! so different 9Jn you, of course. Surprising, the Vnber of men in Hollywood who are filly and physically unattached, but I) have had the experience of one or N> marriages, each epitomized in a I i roll of parchment from Reno, >' lewhere in a bottom desk drawer. C orced men, they say, don't make tl best of husbands. I wouldn't know. B : they do make the pleasantest of admirers, the most flattering holidaysquires. And that, mind you, is the objective — that and that alone. It's very pleasant to be told you are all manner ot nice things; it's revivifying, ego-building, more refreshing than a dozen sea voyages taken in the company of other nice girls and a minimum of eligible males. It gives you a pleasant glow around the region of your heart, fills your head with fresh pictures of your own personality, which has the effect ot making you more like those self-portraits than you were before you heard about yourself from a Hollywood man's lips. But you mustn't take it too seriously. Not the least of your charm lies in the fact that you won't be there long enough to turn up, eventually, at Central Casting Bureau, using a fellow's name as an "in" at the studio, repeating the things he's told you in confidence where it might do him some harm or — faux pas of faux pas — hold him to his declarations. It must be carefully established at the outset that you are as transient as a trailerinhabitant. You have a home somewhere else. You might even have a job. You have come to Hollywood for a vacation and, when the vacation's over, you'll depart, leaving behind nothing but a dream. A dream which might possibly be renewed at a later date, but then also for a stipulated, regular period of time. You won't be a dream walking around the street some blue Monday, a dream with a long memory. It is much easier to "show the kid a good time" when you know she'll be on her way a week, two weeks or three, from now. NOT that marriages aren't made in Hollywood. They are. But they're suspect. The regular, employed citizenry of Hollywood is pretty cynical about marriages, having seen so many go on the rocks and with a louder noise than wrecked marriages make anywhere else. That may be because so many Hollywood men marry girls "in the business," girls whose own careers conflict with their husband's greater or lesser ones. Or perhaps it may be because the plain, American girl, sans movie hopes, is bored with the Hollywood existence which centers around the industry, after she has lived there awhile. It could also spring from the fact that "a breath of fresh air" loses its tingle when you breathe it every day and the hothouse fragrance of the authentic glamour girls then becomes the "different," attractive thing. Anyhow, marriage wasn't the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow of my Hollywood holiday. I came home. And — lo and behold — the same thing happened, in reverse, right on home territory. "Diana's been to Hollywood. Tell us all about Hollywood, Diana!" And then you speak, and speak freely — who knows from whom you collected your items of information? Who cares? You have been in Wonderland. The brilliance clings to you in the mundane surroundings of home. You are as different as satin and sequins in a sea of organdy. "I don't see how they let you get away!" says a pleasant non-Hollywood voice. All in all, it's well worth while for the plain American garden-variety girl to visit Hollywood. tf I've lived an extra month this year— Like so many women, Janice believed menstrual pain had to be endured. As regularly as her dreaded days came on, she stopped "living" — gave up all pleasure to give in to suffering. Then, a year ago, a thoughtful friend told Janice about Midol; how it relieves functional periodic pain even at its worst, and how it often saves many women even slight discomfort. Now Janice is "living" again — not just part of the time, but twelve full months a year. Letting Midol take care of unnecessary menstrual pain has restored to her a whole month of wasted days! MIDOL is made for women for one special purpose — to relieve the unnatural pain which often makes the natural menstrual process so trying. And Midol is dependable; unless there is some organic disorder requiring the attention of a physician or surgeon, Midol helps most women who try it. Why not give Midol the chance to help you? It acts quickly, not only to relieve the pain, but to lessen discomfort. A few Midol tablets should see you serenely through your worst day. Ask for the convenient, inexpensive purse-size aluminum case at any drugstore. MIDOL RELIEVES FUNCTIONAL PERIODIC PAIN tbVEMBER, 1938 77