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среда, 29 февраля 2012
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среда, 22 февраля 2012
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вторник, 21 февраля 2012
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вторник, 14 февраля 2012
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понедельник, 06 февраля 2012
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пятница, 20 января 2012
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пятница, 13 января 2012
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Закрытая запись, не предназначенная для публичного просмотра
вторник, 03 января 2012
суббота, 31 декабря 2011
She is beautiful as the aurora borealis, but to compare Greta Garbo on and off the screen is to compare Laszlo with Leonardo.
The personality the public sees is magnetic, gay, tragic, sensitive, and wise; but other actresses appear magnetic and sensitive, until the projector stops, and the illusion created by the director and his aides is dispelled.
Only Garbo, when the properties are back in the box, puts on nobility with her mackintosh.* In real life she possesses such a wealth of qualities, which the screen is technically incapable of reproducing, that, even if she had not the most beautiful face of our time, yet all other modern beauty would be ephemeral besides her.
...
Her skin is smooth as marble, generally burnt lightly to an apricot honey colours; her hair is biscuit coloured and of the finest spun silk and clean and sweetly smelling as a baby's after his bath; her mose is so delicate and sensitive that she seems to be conscious of perfumes too subtle for others to enjoy - the perfumes perhaps of her own beauty; her teeth are large and more glistening than pearls; her generous mouth is more delicately controlled than it seems in photographs; as for her eyes, there are never been such before, in expression so quizzical, compassionate and languorous, so deepset and of such unforgettable blue; they have large, dark irises, and boast lashes so long that it is impossible to belive that they are real, for only a few childreen have such a poetic growth. She has the tragic quality of a child.
...
The magic which intrigues and baffles the imaginative is not trapped and docketed. Her most inveterate worshippers despair of analysing her allure. In a quick turn of the head, in a frank look, in a boyish pout, in that proud glance from lowered lids, so pitying and yet so distant that in others it would be supercilious, in all those expressions of conscious beauty, which when imitated become clumsy, or arrogant, or ridiculous, there is a manifestation of what Hollywood cannot destroy. In the presence of this mystery all that is second-rate can be forgotten.
Cecil Beaton
* Какая замечательная фраза! "... она вместе с дождевиком набрасывает на себя благородство."

The personality the public sees is magnetic, gay, tragic, sensitive, and wise; but other actresses appear magnetic and sensitive, until the projector stops, and the illusion created by the director and his aides is dispelled.
Only Garbo, when the properties are back in the box, puts on nobility with her mackintosh.* In real life she possesses such a wealth of qualities, which the screen is technically incapable of reproducing, that, even if she had not the most beautiful face of our time, yet all other modern beauty would be ephemeral besides her.
...
Her skin is smooth as marble, generally burnt lightly to an apricot honey colours; her hair is biscuit coloured and of the finest spun silk and clean and sweetly smelling as a baby's after his bath; her mose is so delicate and sensitive that she seems to be conscious of perfumes too subtle for others to enjoy - the perfumes perhaps of her own beauty; her teeth are large and more glistening than pearls; her generous mouth is more delicately controlled than it seems in photographs; as for her eyes, there are never been such before, in expression so quizzical, compassionate and languorous, so deepset and of such unforgettable blue; they have large, dark irises, and boast lashes so long that it is impossible to belive that they are real, for only a few childreen have such a poetic growth. She has the tragic quality of a child.
...
The magic which intrigues and baffles the imaginative is not trapped and docketed. Her most inveterate worshippers despair of analysing her allure. In a quick turn of the head, in a frank look, in a boyish pout, in that proud glance from lowered lids, so pitying and yet so distant that in others it would be supercilious, in all those expressions of conscious beauty, which when imitated become clumsy, or arrogant, or ridiculous, there is a manifestation of what Hollywood cannot destroy. In the presence of this mystery all that is second-rate can be forgotten.
Cecil Beaton
* Какая замечательная фраза! "... она вместе с дождевиком набрасывает на себя благородство."

понедельник, 19 декабря 2011
14:12
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вторник, 13 декабря 2011
00:20
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пятница, 09 декабря 2011
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