College boys worshipping Fred Astaire (you could do worse!)

Our only god was Fred Astaire. He was everything we wanted to be: smooth, suave, debonair, dapper, intelligent, adult, witty, and wise. We saw his pictures over and over, played his records until they were gray and blurred, dressed as much like him as we dared. When any crises came into our young lives, we asked ourselves what Fred Astaire would do and we did likewise. We though we were hot stuff but we were very young in those days.

Patrick Dennis, Auntie Mame (New York: Broadway Books, 2001), pp. 160 (orig. pub. 1955)

But you aren't arriving until July 1st!

"But why didn't you tell me you were coming today? I'd never have been giving this party."

"Mum, I wired you . . ."

"Yes, but you said July first. Tomorrow. This is the thirty-first of June."

Norah shook her head balefully. "No, mum, 'tis the first, God curse the evil day."

The tinselly laugh rang out, "But that's ridiculous! Everyone knows 'Thirty days hath September, April, June and  . . .' My God!" There was a moment's silence. "But darling," she said dramatically, "I'm your Auntie Mame!" She put her arms around me and kissed me, and I knew I was safe.

Patrick Dennis, Auntie Mame (New York: Broadway Books, 2001), pp. 13-14 (orig. pub. 1955)

Auntie Mame's book was long, but . . .

For all of Auntie Mame's talk about her book, I'd never read a word of Buffalo Gal, subtitled The Personal History of a Modern George Sand, nor had anyone else. But around November a thick bundle of manuscript arrived. . . . No one could deny that Auntie Mame's was a big book. It ran just shy of nine hundred typewritten pages, but no matter how much you loved her you could never say it was good. Although Auntie Mame was a fascinating talker, knew a lot of interesting people, and had excellent taste in her own reading, her prose style was that of a gifted amateur—a bit too florid, a bit too irresponsible, and often unconsciously funny. She had also been too scrupulous a reporter and told much more than was absolutely necessary about some of her dearest friends. 

Patrick Dennis, Auntie Mame (New York: Broadway Books, 2001), p. 100 (orig. pub. 1955)