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Now that she has established herself as the Met's ranking soubrette, Patrice's work is pretty well cut out for her. This season, in addition to eight Adeles in Fledermaus and three Musettas in Bohème, she will get a coveted role in the Met's new, English-language production of Mozart's Cosí Fan Tutte, as Despina the maid, who decoys her mistresses into affairs with two rich Albanians, masquerades as a quack physician, and generally moves the whole plot around.
If Patrice has any big worry left about her career, it is that she may get too many soubrette roles. She knows that her voice has not enough weight, dramatic color and power for such heavyweight parts as Aïda, but some day she would like a try at such lyric roles as the consumptive courtesan Violetta in La Tramata, or the heart-wrecker, Manon. Bing has promised her a Mimi (the consumptive heroine of Bohème) next month.
Actually, Bing himself does not intend to limit Patrice to soubrette roles; for one thing, there are not many in the repertory. But he thinks that "she should do things that are light in vein, not necessarily light in quality, but cheerful and scintillating. She is a cheerful personality; she makes people feel cheerful."
Mink for the Throat. Now that she has become a successful madcap onstage, she is a more serious character when she is off. But she is still passionately fond of fishing and sailing, and runs off to the country whenever she can. Her life in Manhattan is an exacting round of lessons, rehearsals, fittings and photographs. She conscientiously answers her mail, and seldom" fails to get off a cheery quarterly letter to the Princess Patter, a mimeographed magazine published by her teen-age fan club (Bing Crosby, Shirley Temple, Risë Stevens, Jan Peerce are honorary members).
She seldom goes to nightclubs now, because the smoky air hurts her voice. Her idea of a big night is a steak and a movie with one of several beaux (current favorite: Candy Heir Robert Schuler). She insists that she has "no plans" for marriage, but admits that "I don't want to end up with only a book of clippings."
At parties, her friends seldom ask her to sing, but if Sinatra or Crosby happens to be mooing on the radio, she is apt to chime in with a corned-up accompaniment. Back in Victor's good graces again, she has recorded some popular songs.
She lives well, if not on the scale of leopard-skin luxury of some more fabulous divas of the past. Home is a roomy duplex apartment off Manhattan's Park Avenue, where her mother lives with her as companion, housekeeper and secretary. Patrice dresses well but not lavishly, and if she has a weakness for finery, it comes out at the furriers. Her wardrobe includes two mink coats, a mink cape and stole, a nutria coat, an ermine wrap, and a spare mink skin "to keep my throat warm."