An evening with a (to me, very) old rerun of Peter Gunn, a show more from my husband’s youth than mine.
Not only did the detective wear a suit the whole time, but so did the crooks: suits, ties, and hats. One of the villains even wore a hat with a feather detail in it.
The conflicts between good and bad guys were not convincing, nor were the punches that Peter Gunn had aimed at his stomach. But now I yearn for those ancient impossible days of glamorous semi-violence that never existed.
white pebble 