Lipstick

As an author of historical fiction, sometimes you just get lucky. In my research for 'The Great Experiment', I happened upon an article about the journalist Lois Long (1901 – 1974), a writer for The New Yorker magazine. She wrote under the pseudonym 'Lipstick'. On the strength of a Ying/Yang relationship with her editor boss and a generous expense account, she would visit the myriad of speakeasies and clubs that were ubiquitous in the late 1920's in New York City. She'd write about each one in her 'Tables for Two' column.

​Her words carried weight.

Lois was the personification of a 'flapper'; she would drink, smoke, dance and carouse her way through the night and part of the morning all in the name of penning a column for the next edition of the magazine.

Her column was very popular with everyone, but specifically with young women who could not afford to go out often, so they'd live vicariously through 'Lipstick'. The popularity of her column helped propel the fledgling mag to its place among the finest publications of the day.

Tall, sharp and full of life, Lois shared characteristics with her man from the future, Skypilot. But, as with her boss at The New Yorker, it was a type of Ying/Yang relationship.

My luck with Lipstick continued when I found that her room mate was actress Kay Francis (1905 –1968). Like me, you may not recognize Kay's name, but you might be interested to know that  after time on Broadway in the late 1920s (when we meet her), Miss Francis moved to film. There, she achieved her greatest success between 1930 and 1936, becoming the number one female star and highest-paid actress at Warner Bros. studios. By 1935, Francis was earning an annual salary of $115,000 ($2,700,000 today), dwarfing the $18,000 Bette Davis made.

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