I'm sure with your background you can figure out why.
Failing that, Eustace Clarence.
Nancy Boys? Why of course!
It’s interesting you mentioned Eustace. You may know that the longtime mascot of The New Yorker was a cartoon Regency dandy called Eustace Tilley.
He was decked out in a top hat and fancy cravat, peering at the world through a lorgnette.
Why The New Yorker, under the editorship of tough old Harold Ross, would brand itself with an effete character out of a Georgette Heyer novel is a mystery I’ve never tried to solve.
I’ve read a fair bit about the history of The New Yorker in its glory days. My impression is that it may have been the most editor-driven magazine ever published in the USA, to the point where you have to wonder how much of each story was really the writer’s.
Having written professionally for 25 years — never in anything as prestigious as The New Yorker — I can tell you that anal-retentive editors can make your life hell. From what I read, The New Yorker paid well, but not top dollar.
Still, the work of A.J. Liebling and Joseph Mitchell is still worth reading today. If you can get a hold of Mitchell’s “The Bottom of the Harbor,” a collection of essays about maritime New York, by all means read it.
I think Cooper is a nice partner name for Karen. As in a hen pecked chicken sh*t who lives in a coop.