I had a dream recently that I needed a bottle of champagne for an impromptu celebration (for my glamorous REM social life). I called my friend Cary Grant, who sent a bottle over immediately. I was even able to hear the cadence of his famous accent in my subconscious state. This dream was likely the result of having finished a recent biography of Hollywood’s most debonair actor, and I’d like to think it was a conduit to sleep sophistication.
If you or someone you know would like to channel Mr. Grant during the night, I recommend a binge. The following biographies and films consumed in succession might just lead to caviar dreams.
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