“The roaring twenties” she chimes, voice like magnolia soap bubbles and chinking crystal. Her dark bob, hard as a beetle shell, her eyelashes, Iver Johnson handlebars, and her face, with its silver-lining cheekbones, soft-focus foundation, locomotive kohl window sills, is as full as a marble moon. Her porcelain legs are kicked over the side of …
Speak Easy to the New Decade
