Have you ever seen a show on MTV called "Cribs"? It's basically a walking tour of various minor celebrities' homes (think Pauly Shore, not "A-list" types). Some of it is kind of sad... multimillion dollar McMansions decked out in the same shitty Sears wall-to-wall carpet I had in my first apartment. They should re-name that show "Money Can't Buy Taste". It all seems to highlight the fact that stars on this show have reached (near) the top of the entertainment fashion world, with all its fahion cache, yet most of these stars are kind of artless and characterless in their personal lives. These supposed trendsetters actually have no style, because the style and hipness they project in the media has been manufactured for them. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, and I'm not so naive as to think the entertainment world was really much better fifty years ago, yet reading this book, it does kind of seem like Sinatra et al did have a kind of pinache about them, that seems notably lacking in current-day. Maybe it's the author's fondness for the characters that colors my view, but at least when Frank, Dean, and Sammy had it all (money, fame, influence), they at least knew how to enjoy it with class. ... I don't know, maybe it was just the era they were living in; maybe if Sinatra were born 60 year later, he'd be a young celeb on "Cribs" today showing off his corduroy piano, and his flourescent orange Mercedes with oversize wheels. It doesn't matter. I'm just saying that if the whole point of this "celebrity-entertainment" genre is to live vicariously through manufactured "stars", then why not at least live vicariously through people who actually seemed to be hip and stylish? Neither one is your life, anyway. This book does a nice job of showing that bygone era, when the celebrities of the day hung around in tuxedos and drank fine Scotch.