Porcelain and Pink is a frothy, teasing one-act play written by the young F. Scott Fitzgerald in 1920 - at the onset of the Jazz Age that he would become synonymous with - purely for the purposes of notoriety one suspects.
Why so? Well, the curtain opens on a scene featuring a perky young woman, from the shoulders upwards, administering to her ablutions in a short, blue porcelain bathtub, singing a silly, popular song.
In a knowing, highly pleased-with-itself stage direction, Scott informs us that for "the first ten minutes of the play the audience is engrossed with wondering if she really is playing the game fairly and hasn't any clothes on or whether it is being cheated and she is dressed".
And that ten minutes of carnal curiosity is basically it. Fitzgerald is clearly having immense fun, but all we get a century later are a few lame puns, fit only for a nervous, twittery contemporary audience; a mistaken identity incident when the beau of the bather's sister hears (but does not see) her through a well placed window and starts to make love to her; and some more frivolous fun with the fact that, well, there's a (possibly!) naked actress on stage.
The play did cause the intended stir at the time, but can only be of interest today as a period piece. It left me wondering though, what would a risque young playwright have to do today to ruffle some prudish feathers?
Answers on a postcard please...