"Looking back on Auntie Mame as the razzle-dazzle butterfly she was in 1929, I can see that she must have been just as terrified at the prospect of rearing a totally strange ten-year-old boy as I was when I first stumbled large-eyed and frightened into the Oriental splendor of her Beekman Place apartment. But Auntie Mame was never one to admit defeat. There was a kind of up-and-at-'em spirit of a speak-easy Girl Scout to my aunt."
"She never revealed her exact age and on a legal document she'd say 'over twenty-one,' which no one ever seemed inclined to question. I suspected she was between thirty-five and forty, and she seemed a lot younger."
"Every weekend I drove off to New York with a carload of junior Fred Astaire's, who settled comfortably in the bedrooms of Auntie Mame's big house on Washington Square and practiced being suave with their hostess. Auntie Mame loved it all. She liked company, and the younger and gayer the better. ... (And) the boys loved her .... they needed Auntie Mame to supply the beds, the board, the parties, the liquor. But she needed them for something more. She needed them to assure her that she was still young, still beautiful, still desirable."