He was born nine days before Christmas, so his mother named him Noël. That festive holiday spirit swirled around Noël Coward and his works throughout his life. His plays, musicals, and revues were marvelous parties. To the tinkle of cocktail glasses, he arched the languid magic wand of his cigarette holder and summoned up clever, dashing men and svelte, seductive women who danced divinely, sang bittersweetly and tottered into the tinseled dawn. None of it was remotely real, but it was often great fun, and that suited Coward perfectly to the very day...
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