She makes it a
policy never to mention horses on dates, but eventually hopes to settle on a
permanent young man who can tell a forelock from a fetlock. She has been
married twice (the first was a home-town Houston boy and the second was a South
American; of this period, however, one can find out about as much from Parading
Lady as from Miss Abercrombie).
want to meet a man who likes me, horses, farming and travel in that order,"
she said on the way back to town in a convertible Cadillac which she had
carefully explained she had borrowed from a friend. "Sort of a
town-and-country type. Guess that doesn't make me very different from anyone
else, does it?"
passion to be like everyone else occasionally takes exaggerated forms. Jo is
always out of cigarettes and/or money, a combination of lacks seldom
experienced by the medium-income group. When a friend met her at the airport
last week, Jo greeted her in obvious relief. "I don't know what I would
have done if you weren't here," she said gratefully. "I'm fresh out of
cigarettes and I don't have a dime to call you."
Because she hates
to be conspicuous?a lost cause?she tips very modestly, but has been known to
scour the town for a pot of out-of-season violets upon hearing a maid mention
they were her favorite flower. She is such a helpful house guest that weekend
hostesses with servant problems compete for her trade. On a recent Connecticut
Sunday she broke an inexpensive milk-glass mug in the act of preparing her own
breakfast, spent the following Monday ferreting around town for its facsimile.
(She finally found it at 4:35 p.m. down on New York's Orchard Street.)
She loves bargains
and constantly urges her friends to visit marvelous basement shops she is
always discovering. Upon being complimented on a gown she wore to a recent
cocktail party under a four-foot sable stole, she beamed. "It was $39.95 in
the most fantastic little shop," she said happily. "I'll take you there
tomorrow. They have lots more."
WHITE GLOVES AND
She hates stuffed
shirts, fish and hats, in that order, although she recently commissioned Mr.
John to design her "a hat that wouldn't scare a horse," was so well
satisfied that she bought six exactly alike. She likes white gloves, chocolate
in any form and hamburgers. "I love your apartment," she said recently
to Betty Betz, a friend with whom she often stays in New York. "It's so
convenient to Harry Winston (a local diamond merchant) and Hamburg
major ambition at the moment is to get into the winner's circle at Belmont at
the same time one of her horses does.
Patrol won recently," she said, heading onto the Tri-borough bridge, "I
was so excited I couldn't find my way down to the winner's circle, and by the
time I got there they were announcing the next race. But I'll make it yet,"
she said firmly, expertly sideswiping a truck, whose driver honked at her
appreciatively. She grinned suddenly, like a small child. "Maybe that's
what Mother means: girls who burn their candles at both ends have trouble
locating the winner's circle."