We own two teddy bears, imaginatively named, or so we think, Edward and Teddy. Presented to one of us as Christmas gifts several decades ago, they have lived with us throughout our married life.
Edward is the stay at home type. Introspective and somewhat uncommunicative, he presides over the dining room here in Budapest with an authoritative air. Although closely witnessing the comings and goings [as well as eavesdropping on the delicious gossip] of our friends and guests at the dining table, Edward can always be relied upon to be the soul of tact and discretion.
|a rather contemplative Edward sits patiently in the Budapest dining room|
Teddy, on the other hand, is a gregarious bear, accompanying us to the Opera, to restaurants, and to concerts with enormous enthusiasm. 'Tosca' is a favourite, so much drama, and on one particularly historic occasion he sat through all nine Beethoven symphonies without so much as a growl. Members of the audience often will wave to him in the Dress Circle from the Orchestra Stalls, whilst concert goers will frequently take his photograph. Teddy has yet, however, to give an autograph but it can only be a matter of time before his fame spreads sufficiently for a paw print to be requested.
|Teddy enjoys a performance of the St. Matthew Passion in the State Opera House, Budapest|
In one of our favourite restaurants, Klassz, on Budapest's grand boulevard, Andrássy ut, a place is always set for Teddy when we arrive, a spoon considerately replacing the tricky to manoeuvre knife and fork. And as we survey the room of diners who seem to be so much more involved with texting, tweeting or emailing on mobile telephones rather than, as once one might have expected, engaging in conversation with their companions so we think, perhaps misguidedly, that there is so much more fun to be had with Teddy.
|Teddy eagerly awaits the arrival of dinner in Budapest's Klassz restaurant|
All of this serves to remind us of 'Cynthia'. Full of bosom, small of waist, a perfectly formed 100 pound mannequin who was not only glamorous but also as silent, so to speak, as the grave.
|'Cynthia' seen at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York with Lester Gaba|
|enjoying a quiet restaurant dinner, 'Cynthia' with Lester Gaba in the 1930s|
In 1930s New York, Lester Gaba worked in the retail display business. In the absence of suitable drinking and dining companions he created the exceedingly lifelike 'Cynthia' in honour of the New York socialite Cynthia Wells. 'Cynthia' was seen everywhere on the arm of the fashionable Gaba, but never heard. Gaba insisted that laryngitis was the reason why 'Cynthia' remained silent.
'Cynthia' had a credit card from Saks of Fifth Avenue, a box seat subscription from The Met, her own newspaper column and radio show [Gaba said what 'Cynthia' thought] and she even made it to the cover of 'Life' magazine. It was a sad day indeed that she slipped from a chair in a beauty salon and shattered into pieces. Thankfully her mould ensured that she could, and did, 'live'again.
|a by then famous 'Cynthia' pictured on the front cover of 'Life' magazine on July 12th. 1937|
With the demise in real terms of 'Life' magazine in March 2000, our hopes for worldwide coverage for Teddy have, inevitably, suffered a setback. Possibly someone from Condé Nast, perhaps the Editor of 'Tatler', may be reading this?
N.B. We have been unable to source the photographer(s) of the images posted here of 'Cynthia'. We should be pleased to include acknowledgements.