There is a specific kind of magic found in silver gelatin prints, especially those that captured the birth of cinematic surrealism. I am thrilled to share the latest addition to my collection: an original on-set production still of Josette Day as Belle.

This isn't just a photograph; it's a piece of history. The reverse side bears the typed provenance of London Film Productions Ltd., marking the film's arrival at the Rialto on Coventry Street for its premiere on Friday, October 31st. Imagine sitting in a darkened London theater on Halloween night in the 1940s, watching Jean Cocteau’s dreamscape unfold for the first time.

In this photo, Josette Day embodies the "Beauty" that Cocteau sought: a face that looked as though it belonged in a 17th-century painting. Born in Paris, Day was a child prodigy of the theater, but it was her role as Belle that immortalized her.

Her performance is a masterclass in stillness. While the Beast (played by Jean Marais) is all movement and fur and anguish, Day provides the calm, luminous center. She didn't just play a fairy tale character; she gave Belle a sense of agency and quiet strength that was rare for the era.

To speak of this film is to speak of the genius of Jean Cocteau. A poet, playwright, artist, and filmmaker, Cocteau didn't use CGI—he used imagination. He famously told his crew that he wanted to achieve "the beauty of the everyday."

He used simple tricks—running film backward to make "magic" happen, using real human arms as candelabras, and relying on the incredible costumes by Christian Bérard. Cocteau’s La Belle et la Bête remains the gold standard for fairy tale adaptations because it feels like a dream that you can actually touch.

Released in 1946, the film served as a much-needed escape for a post-war Europe. It is a visual poem about the transformative power of love and the thin line between the monstrous and the divine. This photo, with Day’s upward gaze and the soft, directional lighting, captures that "Cocteau glow" perfectly. It is a centerpiece in my collection that reminds me why we fall in love with the movies in the first place.

Holding this photo, one can almost feel the texture of the "dream" Cocteau sought to film. It serves as a reminder of a time when cinema was a tool for magic, turning a simple fairy tale into a profound exploration of the soul. Adding this to the collection doesn't just preserve a face; it preserves the moment when London first witnessed one of the most beautiful films ever made.

SMARTLY DESIGNED in contemporary manner. A one- and two-story combination. Accented by trellised overhang, built-up masonry flower boxes. Second story "pent house" provides two extra bedrooms and bath, opens on large sun deck cleverly screened from street. Unusually large living room extends through house, merges with dining room on garden side. Indoor-outdoor planting distinguishes great picture window placed at an angle. Window wall of dining room opens on secluded dining porch. Big storage room adjoins kitchen and porch. Kitchen entered from garage. Cross ventilation for every bedroom. Nine large closets. Wood storage off of rear hall.

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source: 53 house plans for 1953 by Rudolph A. Matern

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 This evocative photograph captures Nadia Gray on January 19, 1950—the very moment she prepared to leave the cobblestones of Paris for the neon lights of Hollywood. In the image, we see a woman of quiet intensity, but the text beneath it reveals a much louder reality: she was departing as "Princess Cantacuzino," a title that carried the weight of a vanishing European aristocracy and a life marked by a narrow escape from the iron grip of history.

Nadia’s journey began in Bucharest, but her life truly transformed when she married Prince Constantin "Bâzu" Cantacuzino, Romania’s most celebrated fighter ace. When the political landscape of Eastern Europe shifted following the war, the couple found themselves in the crosshairs of a new regime. In a move straight out of a Cold War thriller, they managed to flee to the West, leaving behind titles and treasures to reinvent themselves in the creative sanctuary of Paris. It was this background—one of high-stakes escapes and navigating the corridors of power—that lent her an air of mystery, leading many to view her as the ultimate "spy" of the social circuit.

By 1950, as noted in the French clipping, Nadia had conquered the Parisian stage at the Théâtre Antoine. She was no longer just a displaced royal; she was a rising star. The text highlights her recruitment by director Anatole Litvak for a role in Hollywood, marking the start of a career that would bridge the gap between classic European theater and global cinema. She possessed a rare ability to blend aristocratic poise with a modern, almost dangerous edge, which caught the eye of the world’s most visionary directors.

Her legacy was eventually immortalized in Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita (1960). In one of cinema's most famous sequences, Nadia played a character who mirrored her own social standing—a wealthy socialite who performs a scandalous striptease. It was a performance that shocked the world and defined the "sweet life" of the era. From her beginnings as a princess in flight to her status as a cabaret icon in New York later in life, Nadia Gray lived a narrative that few could imagine and even fewer could survive with such grace.

The addition of these specific photographs to the collection is more than just the acquisition of vintage prints; it is the preservation of a "crossroads" moment. These artifacts capture Nadia Gray as she transitioned from a princess in flight to a global icon. They serve as a tangible link to a time when the glamour of the silver screen was inextricably linked to the high-stakes drama of history. By archiving these pieces, we document the literal and artistic movement of a star, fueled by the rare primary evidence of the attached French press clipping and the raw energy of a Fellini set.

THIS is a two-story, two-car garage plan. The arrangement of the second floor includes a living room, bedroom, bath, kitchen and eating space, plus generous closets. All the conveniences of a small residence are included. The living room and bedroom are independent of each other. Each has enough wall space for the effective placement of furniture. The dining space is incorporated in the kitchen to make for greater convenience in serving.

The windows are arranged to give plenty of light and ventilation in every room. In the sketch the first story is masonry and the second story frame construction. Stone is indicated for the masonry portion, but any other masonry material could be substituted. The second story has an outside finish of asbestos shingles, but this also may be changed to another material.

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source: The Progressive Farmer – Distinctive Southern Homes | 1950

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 There is something truly magical about holding a piece of television history in your hands. I’ve just added a stunning vintage press photo to my collection, and it’s a real gem from the set of I Dream of Jeannie. This isn't just a publicity shot; it’s a window into the golden age of sitcoms, captured on a Saturday back in June 1966.

The back of the photo carries that classic NBC typewriter text, detailing a hilarious mix-up from the episode "My Master, the Doctor." In the scene, Tony (the incomparable Larry Hagman) idly wishes he were a great violinist and then a surgeon. Jeannie (the radiant Barbara Eden), ever the devoted—if literal—genie, obliges him by blinking him right into an operating room! Seeing the two of them in their surgical scrubs, with Jeannie as the world’s most glamorous assisting nurse, perfectly captures the whimsical chaos that made the show a household staple.

What always strikes me about this series is the fascinating tie to the U.S. Space Program. Set in Cocoa Beach, Florida, just a stone's throw from Cape Kennedy, the show aired during the height of the Space Race. Tony Nelson wasn’t just a "master"—he was a high-level NASA astronaut. This created a brilliant tension: Tony was a man of science and military discipline, constantly trying to hide a 2,000-year-old magical entity from his straight-laced colleagues. NASA was actually quite supportive of the show, and the production often used stock footage of actual rocket launches to add a layer of 1960s realism to the fantasy.

Looking at this photo, you can practically feel the chemistry between the leads. Larry Hagman was a comedic force of nature long before his "J.R. Ewing" days. His physical comedy—the frantic double-takes and the "oh-no-not-again" expressions—was the perfect foil to the magic. And then there is Barbara Eden. To say she was gorgeous is an understatement; she was luminous. But more than her beauty, she brought a sense of innocent mischief to Jeannie that made the character iconic. Whether she was popping Tony into a tuxedo or an operating gown, she did it with a "blink" and a smile that captured the heart of the world.

HERE is a house that the fun-loving family will take to its heart. The wide-open spaces of the king-sized front room—a combination living-dining room and den—are the answer to a party-giver’s prayer. Except for the coat closet, there is not even a suggestion of a partition to get in the way when you are entertaining a crowd. You will especially appreciate this feature if you are active in the affairs of a church or club to which you frequently open your home.

Besides providing ample space for entertaining and everyday living, this plan offers almost unlimited possibilities for originality in interior decoration.

The hall adjacent to the living area insures privacy in the bedrooms and provides access to the bathroom, kitchen and breakfast room. The bedrooms have plenty of closet space, and their doors and windows are arranged to allow cross ventilation.

Closets in the hall take care of bedding and out-of-season clothing, while there is storage space in the bathroom for linen and laundry. In addition to the usual fixtures, the bathroom has a convenient built-in lavatory and dressing table with a large mirror above. The kitchen has a step-saving arrangement of the work space and a breakfast area at one end.

A handy utility room is connected with the kitchen by a breezeway, which provides a covered passage to the car port.

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source: The Progressive Farmer – Distinctive Southern Homes | 1950

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