The title is highly misleading although it aptly describes the glamorous Miss Russell in the sort of nonsense Doris Day was making her own by the end of the next decade.
Playing an East Coast career girl wearing a succession of killer outfits with enormous shoulders and smoking endless cigarettes (it's no surprise that Rosalind eventually succumbed to cancer), we first see her secretary fielding calls from Walter Winchell, and like the fifties Doris is gratifyingly older than love interest Willard Parker (who's actually quite good as Hollywood's idea of a scholar of Elizabethan history who gets more full of himself as the film goes on).
Typically we never actually see the film that all the fuss is about, just as Brian Aherne as the cynical reporter is never seen at a typewriter, simply confining himself to constantly arriving unannounced looking pleased with himself.
Playing an East Coast career girl wearing a succession of killer outfits with enormous shoulders and smoking endless cigarettes (it's no surprise that Rosalind eventually succumbed to cancer), we first see her secretary fielding calls from Walter Winchell, and like the fifties Doris is gratifyingly older than love interest Willard Parker (who's actually quite good as Hollywood's idea of a scholar of Elizabethan history who gets more full of himself as the film goes on).
Typically we never actually see the film that all the fuss is about, just as Brian Aherne as the cynical reporter is never seen at a typewriter, simply confining himself to constantly arriving unannounced looking pleased with himself.