I think it was Donald Mainstock, the great amateur squash player, who pointed out how lovely I was. Until that time, I think it was safe to say that I'd never really been aware of my own timeless brand of loveliness. But his words smote me, because, of course, you see, I am lovely, in a fluffy, moist kind of a way. I walk, let's be splendid about this, in a lightly-scented cloud of gorgeousness that isn't a far shot from being quite simply terrific. The secret to smooth, almost shiny loveliness, of the order which we are discussing in this simple, frank, creamy-soft way doesn't reside in oils, unduants, balms, ointments, astringments, creams,