I bought this book on a whim at a library sale, and, sadly, it wasn't worth the $2 I paid for it. It's now back in the "donate to the library sale" pile--that's recycling for you.

This book was really just a collection of reminiscences from Ms. Baldwin, naturally enough, mostly about Jackie Kennedy. But there was nothing even remotely new, instructive, or entertaining about any of it. There were occasional touches of bitchy, but not even enough of that to make this worth the time it takes to read.

Two stars is a little too high, but without half stars, that's as close as I can get.

A fun Christmas present from my cute cousin (he even had it signed by the author!). A fun read, although she's still milking her relationship with the Kennedys. I guess I would too! ( )

I was extremely disappointed in this book. Contrary to what the title would suggest, it was packed with clubby, gossipy anecdotes about people who are much richer than you are. There was little to no discussion of taste as something that can be acquired, nor was there much instruction as to what separates taste from tasteless. (There was a lot about how so-and-so embodied taste.) The only mildly entertaining portion was the ancedote about how she accidentally garnished a plate of cold sliced meats with poison ivy, trying to make it look pretty. But now I've shared that anecdote with you. Don't bother with the book. ( )