Much better were the parties in the studio of the Rue
Notre-Dame-des-Champs. A selection was made. Here
were real people really trying to do something. A phonograph
was set going, and the guests danced to their hearts’ content.
Ford himself was indefatigable: a trifle heavy, but enthusiastic.
Ezra Pound was a supreme dancer: whoever has not seen
Ezra Pound, ignoring all the rules of tango and of fox-trot,
kicking up fantastic heels in a highly personal Charleston,
closing his eyes as his toes nimbly scattered right and left,
has missed one of the spectacles which reconcile us to life.
Sisley Huddleston – Bohemian Literary and Social Life in Paris
(London, 1928)
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