They are beautiful, powerful, trendsetters, all trouble by their husbands’ bed hopping habits (and occasionally their own). Despite its pulpiness, the stoicism of the women in the face of open humiliation is moving: making peace with infidelity or casually moving onto to find Numero 2, or 3. Through it all is Truman, Truman Capote, the writer. He is there in their boudoirs, mixing drinks and propping up their pillows and ego, cooing in his soft whispering voice. But it was his betrayal-airing out their dirty laundry *pun intended*, that cut deeper than those of the replaceable husbands.
A fun novel that depicts the first era of celebrity fascination; what paved the way for the Kardashians. From Babe Paley, and Jackie O to, now sex tapes of Kim (who is trying now to pass the bar!#respect)
“‘That has to be the Balenciaga…The white one? The one in the window of Fifty-eighth? Its’s the only hat that would take a box that big.’
‘Do you remember what she used to look like? Before. She wouldn’t have known a Balenciaga from a Barbour, for Christ’s sake.’”
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