GSTAAD—During these dark endless moments of lockdown, let’s take a trip down memory lane of real high life, of parties galore, of carefree times with girls in their summer dresses, and of drunken dawns playing polo in dinner jackets. Creatures began to move properly about 500 million years ago, but I will only take you back some fifty or so years, when chic creatures moved to the beat of the samba, the tango, the waltz, and the cha-cha-cha. The roaring twenties roared because of the Great War’s predations, and the fabulous ’50s became fabled recovering from WWII. People ached to have a good time, to splurge, to let go, hunger and postwar austerity having turned even Paris into a gloomy, cold place.
By the mid- to late ’50s things had changed, and I hit the ground running. I was 20, was ranked in tennis, and had been locked up in school for half my lifetime. After the horrors of war, or boarding school, the search for a good time is natural. The reconstruction of Europe had taken more than a decade, and I remember American tennis players complaining about
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