Postcards from Millicent #10
20 September 1924. Dear Celia, At last I have left the Winthrops and I hope I shall never again have to serve as anyone's nanny. Nessa Cohen introduced me to a German advertising man named Lucian Bernhard who's using something called a gelatin-silver process to make commercial photographs for some of New York's most prestigious jewelry stores. I'm writing to you on the back of one of his cards. He has hired me as his assistant, and we are working on a variety of typescripts for advertising! Why did I have to be forty-two and my children nearly grown before I could find work that matters to me? Please talk to Cameron; he won't listen to me. He has dropped out of Rutgers to work backstage with the Gershwins. I fear he's making a terrible mistake: the Gershwins will be a flash in the pan, and then where will he be? Amanda loves New York but I see her hanging about the stage door hoping to become Adele Astaire's understudy, and I'm so worried about both my children my hair is turning gray. Fortunately gray is fashionable this year, your harried sister, Millicent.