As we enter the final three months of this blog, the pace quickens as we compress over a years’ worth of life and courtship into just a few months. This month, we highlight a run of June and Art letters from July and August 1950.
Wednesday, July 12, 1950
112 West 86th Street
Dear Art,
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| Fashion illustration with hat and gloves by June Anderson. |
Darling, I hate to admit it, but I’m afraid I didn’t do much at all today. I spent most of the day trying to find a hat. I finally bought one and some gloves, but I don’t particularly like them. By the way, did I ever leave a pair of white gloves in your car?
By the time I bought everything it was getting late, about 2:00. Just as Betty and I were leaving to come back to the apartment, there was a cloudburst. My permanent didn’t take – my hair came completely straight. So even if I had wanted to look for a job, it would have been impossible. In fact, I’m afraid I won’t be able to look for a job any day that it rains. I hope this won’t be a wasted week.
Oh, did I tell you Shirl and Ted have definitely broken up?
There are three of us here and on the surface the conversation is cheerful and spritely. But, darling, underneath, I’m lonely for you. I love you so much.
All my love,
June
© 2011 Lee Price
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