Madam Andros needs a telephone

The V.I.Ps is one of the great trashy movies of all time. What makes it great is that it would never happen again. Wealthy people wander around an airport waiting for their trans Atlantic flight to be cleared because of fog.

Their commercial flight.

There are hot Stewardessi in tight stylish uniforms, women wearing updos and serious jewelry in the middle of the day, all the women are wearing fur (even the pooorer women have fur collars), and major plot points hinge on not being able to get to the phone that is carried from station to station and plugged in for the use of the airline's guests. Business deals are held up because the plane can't take off (no teleconferencing). And the passengers sit around the airport and talk as tension rachets higher: no TV stations, no Gameboys, no Ipods, no laptops. All they can do is talk to one another and say the things they avoid saying in their regular lives. And smoke. A lot.

If the movie were remade today there would be androgynous Flight Attendants, passengers would be wearing sweats and shoes that can be easily slipped off for bomb inspection, everyone would have enough technology to stay connected to the outside world and never interact with one another. And it would never happen because they'd all be at some place like PDK, ensconced in their private jets. Their private travel pods.

There are three main female characters. The adulterous wife of a mogul who is running off with her gigolo, a secretary who is in love with the boss who doesn't appreciate her devotion, and a dotty Duchess who has never flown and wears clothes because they're comfortable and you can get them wet. I've identified with all the characters at some point but as I age I get more like the dotty Duchess.