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This made me believe that I'd have a swell time in Europe. I had a vision of myself at Buckingham Palace announcing to one of the king's gcntlemcn-in-waiting that I knew Garbo. This would, I felt sure, admit me to the throne room. I felt that, perhaps, I'd become known throughout the Continent as "the man who knows Garbo." I prepared to be the sensation of Europe.

But here you see a man broken in spirit. I have returned. I don't know anything about Hollywood. I have fitted the most famous figures in the world. The most important beauties have been in my shop. But Hollywood's favorite son, the star who creates the most interest abroad, is unknown to nic. I'm as crushed as a tulle scarf after a party.

I woke up to this terrible fact in the Alps. We happened to meet three Swiss boys and started to talk. I told them I was from Hollywood. Smugly I waited for the burning question, "Do you know Garbo?"

"You know everybody in Hollywood? " they asked. I blushed modestly and admitted that I did.

"Ah," they said.

"And don't you want to know about the stars? " I went on. "Shall I tell you about Garbo?"

A smile passed across their faces. "Garbo? Yes, we like her. But the star we'd love to know everything about is — Mickey Mouse!"
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