Screenland (Nov 1936-Apr 1937)

for January 1937 71 Their Pet Extravagances Continued from page 23 simply, mostly at hotels, and he cares less than ever for clothes, society, and "keeping up appearances." But he's a sucker for a good car. Of course he did drive around for a while in that wreck of an old Ford that Carole salvaged from a junk yard and had painted white for his Valentine, but you can be awfully certain that he put a high-powered engine in it first. (Clark's a first class mechanic and can make a good living any time he wants to give up pictures). Just last month he bought a new Duesenberg, and nearly drove the cast and director of "Love on the Run" crazy by dashing out between "takes" to tinker with it. With Joan Bennett it's clothes. Joanie just can't resist fashionable clothes. Schiaparelli, Patou, Lanvin, Molyneux and Chanel have but to hint slyly that Madame would look lovely — and immediately Madame, usually the most level-headed little person, becomes a mad woman and buys everything in sight from properly woolly sports clothes to things eccentric with feathers. The minute Joan gets off a boat in France the Parisian couturieres start singing, "Clap hands, here comes Joanie." And when Joan gets on a boat leaving France her luggage is really something to write home about. Joan is one movie star who looks and travels like a movie star, and we certainly ought to thank our stars there are a few of them left. But Joan's home, believe me, is far from being a movie star's home. In the first place it's small, right on the street, and with just enough yard in the back for little Melinda, age three, to run around in. As a matter of fact it was cute little Melinda, the most precious baby in Hollywood, who sort of tipped me off to the simple, I may say even parsimonious, life of the Gene Markeys. I was having lunch there one day in Joan's very charming dining-room when Melinda demurely entered, gave me a quaint oldworld curtsey, and proceeded to pull one of the drapes out of its folds — and, my dear, the folds were full of holes. "See," said Melinda. "Oh, no, Melinda," said Joan, collapsing with laughter, "not for company !" Claudette Colbert, on the other hand, though one of Joan's friends, is as far different from her as day is from night. Claudette never buys a dress until exactly ten minutes before she is supposed to wear it. The spacious clothes closets in her new Holmby Hills home are far from being jammed with little Hattie Carnegie numbers— in fact they are quite conspicuous by the absence of clothes. If you see Claudette dashing wildly into Bullock's Wilshire at five o'clock some afternoon you will know quite definitely that she has remembered a dinner invitation for that night and hasn't a thing to wear. No, clothes aren't one of Claudette's extravagances, and the jewelry salesmen would starve if they waited on a purchase from her; but she has put a fortune into her home. She made a special trip to New York and lived for days in antique shops, and silversmiths, and art galleries, and no matter what things cost, if Claudette thought they would look well in her house, she paid. And Claudette did not furnish her house ten minutes before she was due to move into it. Heavens, no; it was almost two years. Robert Taylor's pet extravagance is shirts! Bob started working at Metro several years ago for $35 a week, and on $35 a week, as you well know, you can't live like a bloated aristocrat. Bob's salary of course increased as he became the most popular male star in Hollywood, but his tastes changed very little. He did get a flashy car, though it happened to be a present, but his home life remained just as unassuming as ever. When you call up Bob Taylor he answers the phone — you don't have to talk to six servants and a secretary before you get him. But all his life Bob had had a secret weakness for shirts, exquisitely tailored shirts, and so just the minute his salary permitted Bob simply went to town on shirts. There's a guest room in the Taylor home, but you needn't expect to move in, for Bob uses the bed and dresser to pile his extra shirts on. It You can add to your list of "Look Alikes," Myrna Loy and Ruth Coleman, screen newcomer, above. seems he hasn't enough space for all of them in his own room. Fred Astaire goes just as mad over shoes as Bob does over shirts. Off the screen you'd never point Fred out as being a welldressed man, for he dresses very quietly and modestly ; in fact, a bit too modestly, for his hats usually look like something that had been kicked about in a Notre Dame game. But one glance at his shoes and you'll know Fred's weakness at once. He has his shoes made in England and they are made of suede, usually brown, all in one piece with very thin soles. Fred has dozens and dozens of these shoes made for himself. Sylvia Sidney is another movie star who forgets to be sensible when it comes to shoes. Sylvia has some of her slippers specially made; others she buys in the best shoe shops, and whenever she takes a fancy to a certain model she orders it in every color imaginable. Sylvia lives in a small apartment in the Colonial House in Hollywood and has only one servant; she drove the same car until it almost fell to pieces last year and she had to trade it in ; and she'd just as soon as not appear at the Vendome for luncheon without a hat ; but show her a pair of slippers she likes, and without even asking the cost she screams like a maniac and orders a dozen pair in all colors. For her pet extravagance Madeleine Carroll has a real castle in Spain. At least, she hopes she still has it. It's right in the war zone and she rather suspects that her beautiful castle which she spent so much money on is nothing more or less than a lovely old ruin now. She expected to spend her vacation there this past summer, but one look at the news reels and Madeleinedecided she would be happier in America. "I know it's a silly extravagance," she told me, "but ever since I was a little girl and read fairy tales I wanted a castle in Spain. So when I made enough money out of the movies to buy one, I did, and I furnished it beautifully, and thought it would be a wonderful place to live when I wasn't working, but I'm afraid — " Yes, Madeleine, I'm afraid too that your castle in Spain is shot to hell. Merle Oberon has a fur complex. She lives in an unpretentious little beach house in Santa Monica, usually drives around with David Niven in his second-hand car, and except for the evening can always be found in sports pajamas or inexpensive sports dresses. But if there's a good piece of fur within a mile of Merle she will simply go batty until she has purchased it. Merle has the most gorgeous and expensive fur coats in Hollywood — a sable that's a dream, chinchilla, two ermines, two minks, nutria, silver-fox, white fox — oh, everything ! And of course it's kind of cute to see little Miss Oberon prancing around in her sable with a little seven-ninety-five dress under it. Radios are the big weakness in the otherwise sensible life of Mr. Warner Baxter. Warner is another of Hollywood's "English gentlemen" but he's as crazy as a cracked American over any kind of a radio gadget. Naturally all his cars are equipped with the best types of radios, so is his swimming pool, his tennis court, his bedroom, in fact every room in his house including his bathroom. Warner has so many radios, and loud-speakers, and electrical gadgets that he keeps a man on his monthly pay-roll who has nothing else to do but snoop -around every day to see it all the radios are working. With Joel McCrea it's Belgian horses. They are not race horses, you know, but draught horses, and heaven only knows why Joel should take such a fancy to them, but on his ranch out near Chatsworth he has two hundred of them already and expects to breed more. The McCreas, (Frances Dee and two little sons), live very modestly in a small ranch house, they have no town house or town car, and seemingly don't spent as much money as we do, but when Joel starts buying Belgian horses at five hundred a plug it's really something. Bing Crosby, as everybody knows, goes in for racing horses. They don't win many races but they eat an awful lot of oats. Barbara Stanwyck haunts antique shops looking for old silver. A pair of 1786 candlesticks recently caused her to go pleasantly mad for days. With Miriam Hopkins it's modern art. Charles Boyer can't resist porcelains. Joan Crawford, like Carole, goes demented over star sapphires. Dick Powell probably has the largest collection of ties of any man in America. And W. C. Fields asks nothing of the world except a well-equipped trailer.