It looks to me as if dear Ms. Golightly (or as Mickey Rooney would say, ‘Missus Gowrighwrey!’) found a bar down in Brooklyn, tried her first cosmopolitan, and simply went at it. After, at about, say, four in the morning, Paul Pepard found her on fifth avenue looking up at the Tiffany store, except this time she’d accidentally stepped on the tail of her gown and ripped it and she’d left her nice pearls at home and replaced them with cheap tacky ones from CVS. And yet somehow, through it all, I still manage to find dear Sandra Bullock charming. Go figure.
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