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Cloud Blue and Tangerine
There really is nothing quite like Paris in the springtime. On one particularly fine day in 1896, I took advantage of the pleasant weather and blue sky by taking a stroll through the Jardin des Tuileries. The thoughtfully landscaped garden was filled to the brim with delightful groupings of vibrantly hued flowers. Were I with a female companion, this garden would be just the place to woo her, as there is nothing like Paris to charm a lady. However, in my contented solitude, my thoughts were taken over by memories of the previous evening, when I’d basked in the tangerine miasma of the Moulin Rouge. As the enlivened, cabaret music thrilled the audience, I had relished the coquettish allure of dancing girls. The tangerine atmosphere of the evening’s debauchery, now followed by the day’s divine blue sky constituted a faultless combination for my travels.
There really is nothing quite like Paris in the springtime. On one particularly fine day in 1896, I took advantage of the pleasant weather and blue sky by taking a stroll through the Jardin des Tuileries. The thoughtfully landscaped garden was filled to the brim with delightful groupings of vibrantly hued flowers. Were I with a female companion, this garden would be just the place to woo her, as there is nothing like Paris to charm a lady. However, in my contented solitude, my thoughts were taken over by memories of the previous evening, when I’d basked in the tangerine miasma of the Moulin Rouge. As the enlivened, cabaret music thrilled the audience, I had relished the coquettish allure of dancing girls. The tangerine atmosphere of the evening’s debauchery, now followed by the day’s divine blue sky constituted a faultless combination for my travels.
Kelly Green and Lilac
On a brisk, spring day in Scotland, I found myself once again playing the Kelly green Old Course at Saint Andrews, this time with my wild friend and partner in crime, Walter Hagen. Having celebrated until far past our bedtime the evening before, we took the course at a rather leisurely pace, boasting all the while of times when we’d tested the boundaries of social tact. Walter had me keeled over with laughter as he described the time he was refused entrance to a clubhouse dressing room because of his status as a professional golfer. Not to be deterred for a moment, Hagen instead hired a Rolls Royce to serve as a dressing room. “You’re only here for a short visit, Robert,” he rationalized, using his favorite creed. “Don’t hurry. Don’t worry. And be sure to smell the flowers along the way.” At his mention of flowers, I became suddenly aware of a nearby lilac bush, lining the course’s dramatic double greens. My waning stamina was instantly rejuvenated by the lively and refreshing color combination. I turned to tell Walter how brilliant he’d been to point it out, but my spirited friend had already launched into a story of another hilarious escapade.