In his memoirs, a society columnist recalled a memorable interview he had with Gene in August of �53, sipping cr�me de cassis cocktails at the famous Hemingway Bar of the Ritz Hotel in the heart of Paris. He remembered their absorbing conversation � current fashions, American artists and writers in Paris, and the recent, bitter end of the Korean War. He remembered her dress � an en vogue ensemble with a certain je ne sais quoi. This was a time when haute couture reveled in tiny waists, voluptuous curves, perfectly matched accessories, and yards of rustling, luxurious fabric hemmed twelve inches above the ankle � in celebration to the end of wartime clothing restrictions.

But most of all, he remembered the incredible glory of Gene�s eyes. They mesmerized him � luminous, shimmering eyes the color of fresh spring gentians, fringed with long, sweeping lashes, enticing him with an utterly feminine mystique behind a wispy veil of black lace. Sensuous, alluring and fascinating, his interview with Gene Marshall was a treasured, never-to-be-forgotten chapter in his life.