Screenland (May-Oct 1931)

for June 19 3 1 am in the garden of Eden, almost literally, when I get hold of a pair ! — some goodlooking cloth, and then lie on my stomach on the floor. I never let the goods knowthat I am afraid of it so that it does not take me long to whittle out covering, though I admit that I sometimes feel as if I were trying to dress the statue of Liberty. I have started a gown in the morning and worn it at night, and I haven't looked like the covered wagon, either ! Women who have clothes sense can dress on less than the alimony they collect. Many of my sex can stand lots of scenery— even need it. As for me, if I get dolled up too much, I look like a cozy corner in the 90's, a Mardi Gras, or Pioneer Day in Sait Lake City. To the woman who says wistfully, "I wish I could make my own clothes," I can only say what a bearded native said to a tourist who stated that he certainly would like to see Hollywood Boulevard, "Who in hell's stopping you !" Curiously enough, the screen is very hard on clothes. One picture will leave gowns in a worse condition than a long run for stage wear. The black velvet dress which I wore in "One Romantic Night," the stage version of "The Swan," cost four hundred dollars. The first time I put it on the lights burned holes in it and left it in such a rotted condition that I was afraid it would fall off of me before the picture was finished. I have been asked if these same lights which burn the clothes off our backs won't burn our skins. All I can say is that God gave us our skins and the manufacturers give us our dyed clothes. The camera has a very searching eye and we have experts who do nothing but note incongruities in costume. You probably hadn't thought of it, but there is always somebody to see that if you go out of a door in white shoes, you don't re-enter in black ones just because the scene happens to be shot the next day. This is as important as that the same flowers are not left on the piano for both April and October. Every little detail is watched by somebody. Yet careful as we are about detail, no point is ever missed by an audience. A colored porter stopped me in a station one day and told me how much he liked "Anna Christie." He said that he had been to see it three times. "The point that got me," he said, "was when the old man gave you the gate outside the saloon and you took your mad out just standing there picking at your cuff. Gee, I got a kick out of that and it taught me a lot. After that I started taking my mad out on my cap. I've worn out two." Next to clothes, people are most curious about make-up. Their favorite question is, "Who puts on your make-up?" If it didn't sound as if I had the big head, I would answer, "God." My face may not be much, but I don't do anything to it to make it either worse or better. I wear very little make-up as a matter of fact, particularly in character parts. I believe that make-up takes character away and is, therefore, a serious handicap. A face like mine has tremendous advantages. I don't have to park it in a cold cream jar. I don't have to spend two hours nightly ironing out the day's wear and tear. If I worried as much about my face as some folks do, I bet I could get the prize as Miss Coney Island. I used to cry as a little girl when I realized that I wasn't pretty like my sister and other children. It really hurt. Then I began to find that I could do many things that the beautiful ones could not do. I have learned since to be sorry for a beautiful woman — yes, really. You see, 119 we all start in life with some personality, but when we don't use it, it goes. The creature who is good to look upon makes people so happy just to be near her that they wait on her and spoil her and soon the personality goes, leaving nothing behind. I saw the beautiful Langtry once at a gaming table in Monte Carlo and, believe me, I was glad I had a rubber face that was still an asset. Langtry's beauty was gone ; her face was vapid, expressionless, inert. There are, of course, exceptions. Lillian Russell, on the other hand, was always beautiful, because her nature was generous and lacking in ego. Her personality developed and enhanced her beauty which otherwise would have withered. As a matter of fact, I have no idea what I really look like. With an acrobatic face like mine, I never look twice alike either in a photograph or in a part. If a chameleon were asked for its picture, it would not know whether to give its admirer one of the pink or plaid photos. I am in the same fix. When I'm asked for my photograph I wonder whether I shall send myself as a queen or a derelict. "Caught Short" of queens, I send Marthie! Another question is, Do I like animals? Sure ! I can make elephants do things that nobody else can make them do. Elephants understand me and I understand elephants. I've owned every breed of dog and even parrots. At present I have no animals, but I'm scared to death for fear I shall fall for something. Some day my Marie Dressier is not only adept at acting but she can crochet, too — exhibit A. sales resistance may be low and I'll walk home with a giraffe, but in the meantime I avert my eyes when I pass pet stores. I think that every house on the ground floor should have a dog, a cat and a parrot — the dog to keep the burglars away, the cat to keep the mice away, and the parrot to keep callers away ! A car? Yes, I have two, but there is no use rousing you by telling you their makes. An auto is the same as your religion. The one you understand is the one you like. What do I read? Histories and biographies chiefly. I like to know about the people who messed up the world for us. I get a great kick out of French history. I read it and read it. By the end of a page I've killed off a family. 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