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Show Classified D3 Monday, November 29, 1993 The Daily Herald He's finally overdosed on football My dad used to tell me of when he was a little boy and got caught smoking with his friends. As punishment, his father, my grandpa, forced Dad to smoke the rest of the all in one sitting. Evipackage dently it made him sick to his stomach and he never smoked again. I think the same thing has happened to my husband and his love of football, although I'm not convinced that he won't try it again. All my married life I've thought my husband watches too much football. On Saturdays he has always gone to BYU games when they're at home, and sometimes when they're on the road, in addition to following all goes shopping mil 11 CR" i&s His attitude is not pretty By GENEVIEVE BUCK Chicago Tribune - Richard Black-we- ll CHICAGO ambles over to a corner display in the salon level of the pricey Escada Plaza on Michigan Avenue, gingerly removes the black and white print dress he Tobacco calls "dressed-u- p Road," deftly replaces it with a pie, "that Glenn Close would look incredible in this divine white tuxedo?" he asks, pointing to a Cerruti suit in the Escada store. "Or that this woman is so elegant she could be an Audrey Hepburn?" he says of Laura Wallace, the assistant manager, wearing the gray Escada suit that is the store uniform and that does look worthy of a Hepburn. "I feel like Norma Desmond. Do I look too wrinkled? No, no, not my suit, my face." Richard Blackwell who hams it up for photographer i: pleated black dress, then hides the print number off to the side on a wall rack. He smiles with satisfaction and sighs, "Maybe I've saved somebody from looking like they're going to their grandmother's funeral in one of those housedress travesties." He has already dismissed a group of sporty separates printed with penguins and clouds in what he calls "menopause blue" as "terrific for Sears or for pensome Of pouffy dresses guins." in oversized green and red plaid taffeta, he says, "We can forgive them, it's Christmas, the dresses are fine for under a or on white-collare- y Herman Confession of a sports widow other college teams. Sundays of course is a "day of rest" at our house so he watches the games on television in a comfortable chair and tries to refrain from screaming too much; that's about as restful as it gets. Mondays are always reserved for Monday Night Football and then I pretty much have dibbs on his time again until the weekend. That's the way it was 'until this year. Now he's been sneaking (he hasn't been very sneaky though; I've known where he was the whole time) away to high school games every Friday. That means his week is dominated with football. One could say that he's "smoked a whole pack of football' ' this season. Although I never thought I would hear these words from his mouth, last week Mr. Spoits Fan told me, "I hate football." I don't expect this feeling to carry over the rest of his life or even into next season, but it's been rather refreshing to have his attention this fall. I'm certain part of this was induced by the fact that none of HIS teams are doing well this year. The Washington Redskins aren't the worst team in the nation, but they're pretty close. They are probably in but there the top 26 of NFL teams are only 28 teams to choose from. He has even turned his back on his college team. After BYU lost to Utah he took out an ad in the paper that said, "Please take my BYU-UTE- P tickets. I can't take it anymore. No charge." It didn't take him long to give apparently not away those tickets is much as of a everyone fan as my husband is. Some people choose a team and stick with them through thick and thin, rain (or snow) and shine, win or lose. But my husband isn't one of them. In fact, there must be lots of people who feel the same way my husband does. Our phone pretty much rang off the hook when he placed that ad. One man called and asked about the tickets then added "That was a helluva ad." Another guy called and didn't even ask about the tickets but must have shared my husband's view on a disappointing season. They talked for a few minutes about the weaknesses of the team this year and what needed to happen to improve next fall. 'Then he hungup. That completely amazed me. My husband is shy and just about never initiates a conversation. It's even hard for me to keep him talking unless he's trying to sometimes explain something really important to me like the bowl bids for this fair-weath- er year. I know for sure that he has lost his zest for football because he allowed me to eat Thanksgiving dinner this year in peace. I've always been rather offended that he spends the day if watching football. I was raised in a a such can thing imagine you watching family. It was surely a shock to me my first married Thanksgiving to have the TV on whilc we were eating. I Ihought it was because he didn't like non-footb- the company (my family wouldn't you know) but it turns out that the problem was scheduling. I thought my time constraint was when the bird was done. I didn't know I was racing the kickoff. I guess all in all 1 have a lot to be too much thankful for this year football and teams with losing records. d, They'd rather know, he be- grass." all-ti- high-fashio- ed Best-dress- ed best-dress- ed ills Knight-Ridd- First impressions from Mr. Blackwell on the high, the mannequins clad in a symphony of subtle browns and beiges and muted olive drabs. "Not terrible, but not me," he says, standing there in his teal Hugo Boss overcoat, his "stone" double-breaste- d Brioni suit ("no, it's definitely not gray, it's stone"), his "seafoam" cashmere turtleneck cable-stitch- ed aviator sweater, his yellow-tinte- d glasses, his diamond stud earring, his pinky ring centered with a yellow diamond surrounded by rows and rows of sparkly baby diamonds. the But it's at Henri Bendel store with its warren of fanciful ld at mighty, and talk show hosts: BILL CLINTON: "Mortician, a benevolent one. If he'd finally join the Army, maybe they could do something with his hair." HILLARY RODHAM CLINTON: "Tough. She's herself." JAY LENO: "Early Mafia." DAVID LETTERMAN: "High school revisited." ARSENIO HALL: "Outra OPRAH WINFREY: "Absolutely incredible. The best she's geously terrific." BARBARA WALTERS: "Her clothes are invisible, the smartest trick anyone ever pulled on TV. You never remember what she wore, only what she's telling us." DEMI MOORE: "Totally an enigma. Can't figure out who she was to begin with and why she's ended up the way she has. Now she's looking like Bruce Willis' boyfriend rather than his wife . " ROSEANNE ever looked." BERTICE BERRY: "Hasn't found herself yet. When she does, she'll stop wearing hard, tight suits and she'll get rid of the chokers." MICHELLE PFEIFFER: "On her way to being a Greta Garbo." CINDY CRAWFORD: "Hopelessly without image." WHOOPI ARNOLD: "Beautiful, if only she'd keep her mouth shut." J photo Richard Blackwell camps it up and plays fashion critic at Henri Bendel in Chicago. Blackwell goes through the stores in pricey Escada Plaza, Chicago, dismissing groups of dresses almost immediately. He calls a sporty separate printed with penguins and clouds "menopause blue." Blackwell's first impressions of high and mighty Chicago Tribune r ;; this year lieves, that Roberts "a disaster, a pretty woman is who's desecrated her title" finalist the a worst for certainly list he'll release Jan. 11. Or that Lyle Lovett's hair "looks like those pots you have on your kitchen sink that you keep watering until they sprout that spikey What he doesn't want anybody to know is the agony he's going through about Barbra Streisand, whom he has zonked so many times she has become his favorite "worst" Hall of Famer. "I'm trying so hard to get her on the list again, but she's looking so tree." good." He's close to tears. Blackwell says it all so sweet"She's wearing these chiffons, such with a beneficent she's smile, ly, looking like a woman. I the words come out like candied could just kill her." By this time, Blackwell has compliments. That's just how he sounds each January when he made his way to the second floor holds a press conference in Los of Barneys New York, the upsAngeles to bestow his acerbic cale emporium with attitude that intimidates even the affluent. He brand of fashion accolades. Blackwell is Mr. Blackwell, loves the store. He doesn't love the Mr. Blackwell of "worst-dresse- d what's in it. He knows that Streisand wears list" fame, the very one who has called Julia Roberts Donna Karan's clothes, but he "Godfather III in drag" and can barely bring himself to look at Dolly Parton "the Appalachians her "butch" stuff. "Barbra covered with sequins." He's in would never wear this," he says, Chicago, strolling up and around pointing to Karan's black chiffon Michigan Avenue, checking out gown with pointed sleeves that he the wares of some of the city's immediately dubs "Vampira." n He glances across the women's tony, upscale, shops, occasionally dishing, con- selections. All that black is "destantly dropping bons mots and pressing. Call Morticia." The acid mots about the clothes and minimalist dresses need sleeves, people who could make both his he says, and the flowing ones look like maternity dresses. "We annual worst- - and lists. don't do maternity," says an emlist? He does a ployee. list? "Sure, for 33 The men's floor, alas, is Who worse. it. reads "Nothing says, 'Take me years. Nobody reads any 'best' list? The whole home,'" he says sadly. Blackwell surveys the Barneys world waits for my 'worst' list even the menswear scene, its black leather because they love it bejackets and black suits; its neat people on the list adore it rows of navy suits, its infinity of cause it's what everybody is sesuits in dozens of shades of gray. cretly thinking themselves. " He's in front of a quartet of Who wants to hear, for exam- best-dress- m s I GOLDBERG: "Whoops! Terrible, but she goes out of her way to look so bad . " boutiques that prides itself on that being "a lady's paradise" he shines, that he has a good time. He hams it up, goes campy for a photographer. "I feel like Norma Desmond," he cackles. "Do I look too wrinkled?" he worries. When his audience checks him out, he says, "No, no, not my suit, my face." He mimics pulling back his cheeks toward his ears, as, obviously, many plastic surgeons have done in the past, and says, "Let's find better lighting. "I wouldn't wear that in drag," he says, pointing to a black lace dress. A baby-do- ll long, beige brocade with shirred center looks like "mother of the bride, 1940, wrapped with Austrian shades." He puts his hand over a mannequin's bottom. "Why is this store obsessed with having mannequins thrust their rears in customers' faces?" At each store, he has been recby two women from ognized Minneapolis who adore him, by an orthopedic rgeon's wife from Buffalo who's charmed that coat and he loves her her enormous diamond ring ("her husband's got to be an older man"). But here he has a coterie of fans enjoying his every full-leng- th word. He gives it his all. He loves the draping on a Pamela Dennis burgundy suit but removes two glitzy chokers from the mannequin's neck and adjusts the earrings. "Now, I'd take her out. Before, she looked like you could book her on the phone. ' ' He spots the Claude Montana boutique. He feigns fainting. "Divine! Fabulous! But it's all about cut," he announces, letting one and all know that he was a fashion designer for 35 years and knows about things like cut and drape. But he's certainly down on fashion these days. "Too much emphasis on Can you believe combat women?" for boots non-gende- r. He volunteers his list of "designers who do the ugliest": Christian Lacroix, Thierry Mug-leValentino, Karl Lagerfeld ("why he thinks every woman wants to look like a hooker who gives change for a quarter is beyond me"). "But isn't it wonderful there are some who specialize in bad taste to satisfy all those people who want bad taste?" Then he jumps to designers' r, defense. Was miracle brought about by his guardian angel? Dear Readers: Remember the letter from Roger Daub of Center, N.D., who told about working on the Garrison Dam in N.D., the largest earth-fille- d dam in the world? Riv-erdal- e, Roger was working on top of a surge tank when a loose cable hit him In the back. He was headed for the concrete below with no chance for survival when a man named Floyd Hartman caught him. Roger never had a chance to thank Floyd because thSt was Floyd's first and last day on the job. I printed his letter and added, "If anyone knows where Floyd Is, please let me know." By the way, this incident oc130-fo- Post-Heral- d. His name, inciden- tally, is Hardiman, not Hart-ma- Floyd is now 74 years old and a member of the Warrior, Ala., Senior Citizen Center. He was thrilled at the opportunity to speak on the phone to the man Lenders whose life he saved 33 years ago. ot curred I.; iy-60- . Well guess what! I heard from Floyd's son, Dennis, imme- diately after that column ap- peared In the Birmingham, Ala., Deborah Vance, a reporter for the Birmingham Post-Hera- find and then wrote to them on my behalf. Several other readers sent me computerized lists of all the Floyd Hartmans in the U.S. telephone directories. A number of readers shared the following c n. j ld interviewed Floyd Hardiman, and I received a copy of the story. Floyd said he remembered grabbing Roger around the waist w ith his legs. Floyd said if he had not been wearing his safety belt, he would not have been able to save Roger. 'Roger wasn't wearing one," said Floyd, "but thank God I was (or it would have come) down to where I was either going to have to let go or fall to my death with him." Roger said, "He saved my life. Advice Columnist just can't believe I found him. There's no one like him that would have done what he did." And now, dear readers, writing seven columns a week is a piece of cake when you run Into a I story like this one. I was amazed at how much interest and concern this letter generated. Readers from all over the country wanted to help locate Floyd. A man in riano, Texas, looked up every Floyd Hartman he could view: Dear Ann: That incredible column about how Floyd Hartman grabbed Roger Daub in the middle of a fall while they were both working on a dam in North Dakota was a real thriller. I'm sure you will get a lot of mail saying it's a bunch of baloney - that such a thing couldn't have happened. Let mc tell you that I am a true believer, and there is not a doubt in my mind but that it DID happen. I believe Floyd was Roger's guardian angel. The clue was that line about Roger not being able to thank Floyd for saving his life because it was Floyd's first and last day on the job. I am convinced that some higher power sent Floyd for that ONE day to watch over Roger. Most of your readers will think I am some kind of nut, but so many things occur for which there is no logical explanation, and this, dear J.R. in Ann, is one of them. Dallas Dear J.R.: You are not alone in your belief that Floyd was Roger's guardian angel. I re- ceived several letters saying exactly the same thing. So I say hooray! Let the banners wave! These days, when we read so much about man's inhumanity to man, it is reassuring to know something like this can happen. It gives us all hope. Send all letters or inquiries to Ann Landers co The Daily Herald, Lifestyle Section, 1555 N. Freedom Blvd. Provo, Ut. 84604. |