Jacqueline Susann and her husband Irving Mansfield, Los Angeles, Cal., 1969

Monday, January 10, 2011

“It was seen all over the world,” Mansfield claimed. “We thought it was
    undignified.”
Diane Arbus had been commissioned by Harper’s to photograph the author.
Susann was promoting her novel The Love Machine, which was high on the
    best-seller list.
Between interviews (six a day) she was ensconced in a Beverly Hills hotel suite.

Arbus had been commissioned by Harper’s to photograph the author.
She flew to California from Chicago, where she’d photographed and interviewed
    Tokyo Rose for Esquire.
Between interviews (six a day) Susann was ensconced in a Beverly Hills hotel
    suite
overlooking banks of geraniums and a smoggy sky.

Arbus flew to California from Chicago, where she’d photographed and inter-
    viewed Tokyo Rose for Esquire.
When she arrived, Susann began patting her jet-black hair fall and adjusting her
    bubble glasses,
overlooking banks of geraniums and a smoggy sky.
Diane asked her to take them off.

When Arbus arrived, Susann began patting her jet-black hair fall and adjusting
    her bubble glasses
and straightening her geometric turquoise, purple, and black Pucci blouse and
    slacks.
Diane asked her to take them off.
“This Diane Arbus character was bossy,” Mansfield remembered.

Jackie’s geometric turquoise, purple, and black Pucci blouse and slacks
were out. She wanted them to pose in their bathing suits next to the TV set.
“This Diane Arbus character was bossy,” Mansfield remembered.
“I didn’t get it, so I said no to the idea, but Jackie, who was always cooperative
    with the press, said of course.”

Arbus wanted them to pose in their bathing suits next to the TV set.
When they were in their suits, the photographer asked Jackie to plunk down in
    Irving’s lap.
Jackie, who was always cooperative with the press, said of course.
“We held the pose for what seemed like hours—until my kneecaps went numb.”

When they were in their suits, the photographer asked Jackie to plunk down in
    Irving’s lap.
“The flashbulbs kept blinding us, she kept assuring us we looked terrific.
We held the pose for what seemed like hours—until my kneecaps went numb.”
The result was a classic portrait of tacky tastelessness.

The flashbulbs kept blinding them, she kept assuring them they looked terrific.
Irving wore an ankh on his bare chest; Jackie, wearing a matching ankh, stared
    intently at the camera.
The result was a classic portrait of tacky tastelessness:
a couple in extremis, middle-aged, paunchy, oily in bathing suits, presented in
    sweetly prosaic terms.

Irving wore an ankh on his bare chest; Jackie, wearing a matching ankh, stared
    intently at the camera.
She later blamed Irving. He should have known Arbus had a reputation for
    photographing freaks:
couples in extremis, middle-aged, paunchy, oily in bathing suits, presented in
    sweetly prosaic terms.
It was the legs that upset Jackie most: she thought Arbus had made her thighs
    look too scrawny.

Jackie later blamed Irving. He should have known Arbus had a reputation for
    photographing freaks.
Arbus did not accept all her subjects with grace; if she couldn’t respond, her
    reaction was often severe.
It was the legs that upset Jackie most: she thought Arbus had made her thighs
    look too scrawny.
The picture appeared in the October 1969 issue of Harper’s and Arbus sold it to
    other publications.

Arbus did not accept all her subjects with grace; if she couldn’t respond, her
    reaction was often severe.
Susann was promoting her novel The Love Machine, which was high on the
    best-seller list.
The picture appeared in the October 1969 issue of Harper’s and Arbus sold it to
    other publications.
“It was seen all over the world,” Mansfield claimed. “We thought it was
    undignified.”

Saturday, January 1, 2011