Shallow, mirror-gazing home wrecker Sally Quinn writes the most shallow, mirror-gazing memory of Lauren Bacall:
It was the night on the dunes in Amagansett that nearly did me in. George Plimpton was having his annual fireworks party and Ben Bradlee and I had heard Lauren Bacall was going to be there. We had never met her, but Ben had had a hopeless crush on her since her sensational debut in “To Have and Have Not.” I looked forward to the encounter with some trepidation. Not without reason. She looked spectacular that night, of course, and as we were introduced it was clear that Ben was dazzled. To my consternation so was she. That tilted chin, that come-hither look, the husky voice were all in full play and I could feel a knot forming in my stomach. Ben and I, who were not yet married at that time, separated in the crowd, talking to other people, although I couldn’t help noticing that he and Betty, as she was called, never left each other’s side.
When it came time for dinner, I went to find him and he had disappeared. Coincidentally, Betty was also nowhere to be found. I could see the pitying looks on the faces of my friends. I pretended to be unconcerned, got my plate and joined a group, but I was frantic. Ben and I had only recently gotten together, and now I was about to lose him to the sexiest movie star alive. It was at least an hour before they emerged from the dunes, laughing and talking as though they had no concept of time. Ben looked so pleased with himself I could have belted him. He was a bit sheepish when he joined me, and I looked hawkishly for signs of dishevelment, lipstick on the collar. I found nothing, but still. . . . It was no consolation when Betty came over to me as we were leaving and confided in me that Ben was the only man who had ever reminded her of Bogey. (Bogey, of course, being her first husband, Humphrey Bogart.)
And it continues on and on and on, you know, being about Sally.