My Way of Life

Well, well, well. I, of, course, have read and seen "Mommie Dearest", so all I knew about this Hollywood icon was from an admittedly one-sided autobiography of an allegedly abused daughter. In Christina Crawford's book, she says that Joan Crawford used scheduling, planning, and military discipline every day so that life would hold no surprises, and so her mother could control every second of it- almost like an OCD type of ritualistic behavior so that bad things won't happen. This book, if nothing else, totally validates that part of her daughter's book. I am telling you the truth, this woman PLANNED EVERYthing, right down to the second, and she BRAGS about it. I don't think she ever did a spontaneous thing in her entire adult life. Joan Crawford gives us advice on how to eat, how to talk to your mate, how to sleep, and even how to STAND, for goodness sake. If you think I'm exaggerating, even slightly, PLEASE buy the book. The sad part is that you can really tell she means well. Here are a few examples of her thoroughness, almost word for word, from the book. On eating: Never have two foods of the same color on your table- for instance, mashed potatoes and cauliflower, or strawberries and tomatoes, for instance, because it doesn't look right. On storing clothing: she always hung her dresses on satin hangers (NEVER wire ones- and if you don't know that little tidbit, you haven't been paying attention since 1978), and she always pins gloves that match exactly to the hangers, along with scarves,etc., so she'll know where to find them. Here's one that captures her way of thinking in a nutshell: after she divorced her second husband, actor Franchot Tone, she called her maid and instructed her to handpick all the monogrammed linens free of the letter "T", since she no longer carried his last name. The maid had literally picked thread that formed the letter "T" out of hundreds of towels, handkerchiefs, sweaters, you name it (Ms. Crawford believed in monogramming everything). While the maid was working on an extra large towel one day, and listening to the radio to keep her sanity, she heard an urgent newsbreak- Joan Crawford had just eloped and married another actor- a man named Phillip TERRY! That meant- you guessed it- all the monograms would have to be resewn. The poor maid literally lost it at this point, according to Joan herself, and ran down the hall screaming "I quit! I quit!", over and over and over until she had to be forcibly restrained. When Joan heard about it, she chuckled and hired a new maid. Here, in parting, are a few tips from Joan. DON't stand with your feet together. Always put one slightly in front of the other. This aligns your spine and makes you look more... well,I never did figure out more what. Tip #2: if your husband pumps gas all day, draaag all the details of his day out of him, no matter WHAT he says. Pretend to be interested, because there's a woman at his job during the day that really IS. Finally, ne

I could not get enough of Joan's autobiography. Her "way of life" makes Martha Stewart look like a peasant. Her descriptions of what to serve for dinner, what time to wake up your weekend guests, how to become interested in your husband even though he may be boring, not to mention every thing Joan has been up to for the past 10 years, including posing with a miniature stuffed "ditka" ?!?! My very favorite helpful tip from Joan, though, may be how to assemble a guest list for your next frivolous extravaganza. Something about inviting a professional jockey, some lovely young actresses, a foreign diplomat, your visiting friends from Brussels, a bearded painter, and a nuclear physicist... Wow, I loved this lady. She is exhibitionist supreme. And she appears to take all this excrutiating detail with the utmost earnestness. She is so hilariously out of touch and since Joan had the glamour and money and stature to get away with it, the reader can just sit back and bask in her uniquely pretentious world. Better than any soap opera because you know it's Joan. Pure pleasure.

A friend who works at a stuffy private library loaned this to me, and it kept me in stitches for literally weeks. From recipes for peanut butter-and-bacon hors d'oeuvres to hilariously self-serving anecdotes about throwing parties, raising children and satisfying your man, it's equal parts Hints from Heloise and "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?"!

You will probably have to get this out-of-print classic either at an estate sale, or steal it off a friend's bookshelf, (as Crawford herself surely would have done), because there's absolutely no way that anyone who's ever read it would DREAM of selling it. Here is the late period Joan Crawford in all her tacky, Keane Kids-loving splendor; wife, mother, tycoon, ACTRESS, dressmaker....you get the idea. And as she lets you know on every page, she's a busy BUSY bee, so don't waste her time. Buy the book or get out! Crawford tries to let her (shellacked) hair down, but is out of touch with her targeted, "over the garden fence" audience. She's forever telling her housewife reader to "do without some little luxury" (like bread, perhaps?) to save up for something nice...such as a full length, three-sided mirror for her dressing room, a bartender and maid for her dinner party, or suit jackets lined in the same pattern of silk as her blouse. (The only blouse, it seems, that ever goes with that particular suit. Daunting.) Here's my favorite, worthless tip, this one on buying a new dress: "When you're ready to say yes to a purchase, wrap it up, pay for it - but don't go home until you're sure you have exactly the right accessories. You should be ready to emerge in your new ensemble the next day!" Thanks, Joan. We'll manage. Joan also wants us to know what a dedicated actress she is/was. "At times I've deliberately gained weight," she muses. "I did for [comeback role] Mildred Pierce because I thought it suited the part." (Yeah, right!) And if a scene "goes wrong" in rehearsal, (as it does on page 121), she's willing to improvise if everyone will just stand back and get out of her way. "I've got it," she insists. "Let's shoot, let's get it on film, because I may never be able to recapture that one brief second again." Whenever you're ready, Miss Crawford. Joan also rhapsodizes over how devoted third husband Alfred Steel was. (You'll have to look elsewhere for recountings of the drunken brawls and blackened eyes.) Why, Alfred Steele doesn't even need Joan Crawford to be movie star glamorous for him; all that mumbo-jumbo witchcraft just gets in the way! After a wave knocks Joan over on a Jamaican beach, Alfred cups her bare, tanned face in his hands as saltwater streams off them, sighing, "You're the most beautiful thing I ever saw in my life." ("I knew then what he loved in me," she remembers. "That was his private Joan.") The question I put to the court is: So why did she ever wear makeup again? (And believe me, there's a long chapter devoted to makeup.) I could go on and on, but the truth is that I'd rather be reading MY WAY OF LIFE than talking about it. It's my own, private Joan.

from the first page of this book, joan crawford sucks you into this twisted world of warped dinner parties and bizarre egg rituals for the perfect hair conditioner. some times i laughed out loud, while other times i thought, "hey, what a good idea!" a must read for any one teetering on the edge of insanity