He had a string of mistresslike friendships (alas for him unconsummated). He had Madonna’s talent for self-invention, with an arsenal of pseudonyms, and the famous fur hat he wore in Paris to reinforce his image as a provincial of uncommon ability. Cheering crowds would greet him when he returned to Philadelphia from trips abroad. It’s hard to imagine that homely old Ben Franklin, peering out from behind his bifocals with that eighteenth-century mullet (among the few things he didn’t invent was the comb-over), was perhaps the most glamorous person in the world. Electric Adventure: In a Franklin biography, the brilliant light is always on, but who's home?
0 kommentar(er)
