Marilyn's Pants
Truman Capote wrote a wonderful profile of Monroe in his 1980 "Music for Chameleons" based on an afternoon spent together in 1955, excerpted below. They were a most unusual drinking pair : the glamorous and the homunculus.
Truman Capote: "Now do you think we can get the hell out of here? You promised me champagne, remember?"
MARILYN: " I remember. But I don’t have any money."
TC: "You’re always late and you never have any money. By any chance are you under the delusion that you’re Queen Elizabeth?"
MARILYN: " Who?"
TC: "Queen Elizabeth. The Queen of England."
MARILYN: (frowning) "What’s that cunt got to do with it?"
TC: "Queen Elizabeth never carries money either. She’s not allowed to. Filthy lucre must not stain the royal palm. It’s a law or something."
MARILYN: " I wish they’d pass a law like that for me."
TC: "Keep going the way you are and maybe they will."
MARILYN: "Well, gosh. How does she pay for anything? Like when she goes shopping?"
TC: "Her lady-in-waiting trots along with a bag full of farthings."
MARILYN: "You know what? I’ll bet she gets everything free. In return for endorsements."
TC: "Very possible. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised. By Appointment to Her Majesty. Corgi dogs. All those Fortnum & Mason goodies. Pot. Condoms."
MARILYN: "What would she want with condoms?"
TC: "Not her, dopey. For that chump who walks two steps behind. Prince Philip."
MARILYN: "Him. Oh, yeah. He’s cute. He looks like he might have a nice prick. Did I ever tell you about the time I saw Errol Flynn whip out his prick and play the piano with it? Oh well, it was a hundred years ago, I’d just got into modeling, and I went to this half-ass party, and Errol Flynn, so pleased with himself, he was there and he took out his prick and played the piano with it. Thumped the keys. He played You Are My Sunshine. Christ! Everybody says Milton Berle has the biggest schlong in Hollywood. But who cares? Look, don’t you have any money?"
TC: "Maybe about fifty bucks."
MARILYN: "Well, that ought to buy us some bubbly."
MARILYN: "Remember, I said if anybody ever asked you what I was like, what Marilyn Monroe was really like—well, how would you answer them? (Her tone was teaseful, mocking, yet earnest, too: she wanted an honest reply.) I bet you’d tell them I was a slob. A banana split. "
TC: " Of course. But I’d also say…"
(The light was leaving. She seemed to fade with it, blend with the sky and clouds, recede beyond them. I wanted to lift my voice louder than the seagulls’ cries and call her back: “Marilyn! Marilyn, why did everything have to turn out the way it did? Why does life have to be so rotten?”)
TC: "I’d say… "
MARILYN: "I can’t hear you. "
TC: " I’d say you are a beautiful child."
