In her latest movie she shimmies through one sequence in a blonde wig, a few tassels, enough feathers for a sparrow's spring plumage, and not much else. Even so, Italy's Gina Lollobrigida was shocked when Hollywood's new Wax Museum unveiled a reclining likeness of her in a black slip hiked up somewhere between navel and knees. "Please, Sig-nori" pleaded La Lollo, "the short slip shows too much Gina." The museum's directors were sympathetic, but they wouldn't dream of tampering with a work of art. The patrons seem to appreciate it, they replied, so the slip stays slipped.

In the Martello Tower at Sandycove on the Irish Sea, Dublin at last paid formal homage to the genius of a man who had long outraged and puzzled it--James Joyce. At the start of a week-long tribute, the Tower, refurbished with the help of funds from Film Director John Huston, Playwright Sean O'Casey and Poet T. S. Eliot, was dedicated as a James Joyce museum, housing first editions of his books, recordings of his readings, and a death mask made in 1941 in Zurich, where he died after more than 30 years of self-exile. The site was carefully chosen, for the opening scene of Ulysses is set there. So was the date, for June 16 was the 58th anniversary of "Bloomsday," the day of Leopold Bloom's 24-hour odyssey through "dear dirty Dublin" in the pages of Ulysses.

Two months after rescuers hacksawed him, battered and bloody, out of the unrecognizable wreckage of a pale green Lotus at England's Goodwood International Grand Prix, Auto Racer Stirling Moss, 32, was talking about getting back behind the wheel. In pajamas and striped dressing gown, the durable daredevil sat in a wheelchair at London's Atkinson Morley's Hospital, joshing the "head-shrinkers" who were putting him through tests, flirting with nurses and telling friends, "I'll be teaching you the twist soon." Doctors no longer feared paralysis from brain damage, but they said it would be four to six months before he could race again. When that time comes, said Moss, he will go to the track where he crashed, and try to equal his 105.37 m.p.h.

lap record. If he cannot within half an hour, "I'll pack up and quit. I've got too much pride to race as an also-ran.

But I'm going to get back 100%." After enviously eying the handball court, solarium and showers over at Bobby Kennedy's Justice Department, Labor Secretary Arthur J. Goldberg, 53, set up an exercise room, for his own laborers. Trim and flat-bellied. Goldberg nevertheless planned to spend a lot of time there. "When your frustrations begin to get the best of you," said the man-in-the-middle of arguments ranging from sopranos to flight engineers, "working over the punching bag is great medicine."

To an obbligato of cheers, applause and feminine squeals of "Vanyusha!", curly-haired Pianist Van Cliburn, 27. put on a triumphant two-night stand in Moscow's Tchaikovsky Conservatory, where he won the International Tchaikovsky Piano Competition four years ago. He even got his first piano teacher into the act. Brought onstage by her son, Mrs. Rildia Bee Cliburn, 58, rippled off two warmly applauded pieces. The only clinker of the tour, in fact, was hit by Nikita Khrushchev. Ending a concert attended by the Soviet Premier, the Texas trebler dedicated Chopin's Fantasy in F Minor --'to Nikita Sergeevich." But Nikita, already hurrying backstage for a private dinner party with the toast of the town, was not in his box. Informed that Cliburn was still at the keyboard, he scrambled back to his place for the encores.

At 90, Philosopher Bertrand Russell is in no mood to waste words. His latest work, History of the World in Epitome, is an eleven-page, bite-sized pamphlet published by London's oddball Gaberbocchus Press. It consists of a page with seven words, a drawing of the Garden of Eden, two more pages with seven more words, a drawing of a Rube Goldbergian battle scene, and a final few words. Intended "for use in Martian infant schools," as the title page puts it, Ban-the-Bomb Bertie's text reads, in toto: "Since Adam and Eve ate the apple, man has never refrained from any folly of which he was capable." In case anyone misses the message, the pamphlet closes with a photo of a towering mushroom cloud.

The farmer's wife who thumbs the familiar Sears, Roebuck catalogue in quest of ginghams and gadgets is in for a surprise. Its pages will soon blossom with art, abstract and otherwise. Hired to gather original paintings, etchings, drawings and sculptures in the U.S. and abroad was Cinemactor Vincent Price, 51, epicure, art collector and ex-champ (in the art category) of TV's $64,000 Challenge. Yaleman ('33) Price will shop for items priced mostly under $100. and Sears will feature them in its 1,500-page catalogue. The venture, conceded one Searsman, is "highly exploratory."

Turning briefly from his work with displaced persons as U.N. Deputy High Commissioner for Refugees, Prince Sadruddin Aqa Khan, 29, filed suit in Geneva to displace his wife, slinky former London Fashion Model Nina Dyer, 32, on grounds of "incompatibility." Married in 1957, Nina and Harvardman ('54) Sadri, half brother of the late Aly Khan, were separated for nearly two years--she fluttering around Paris, he roaming from Arab sheikdoms to Congolese refugee camps for the U.N. Sadri's lawyer, aware that it cost German-born Steel Heir Baron Heinrich von Thyssen more than $1,000,000 and a French chateau to shed Nina in 1957, was on his guard. Said he: "We are well armed against any such demand."

Pointing a stubby finger at "bad counsel and bad judgment"--not to mention slow horses and fast divorces--compact Cinemactor Mickey Rooney, 41, hove into Los Angeles Federal Court under a luxury-model debt and filed for bankruptcy. Having earned some $12 million in a career that began when he portrayed a midget at the age of five, Rooney claimed assets of $500 in personal effects, debts of $464,914, including $116,512 in back taxes, $22,950 in back alimony to three of his four ex-wives. "From now on," pledged he, "I'm going to watch things a little more carefully."

Named executive editor of the Harvard Crimson, fifth-ranked editorial post on the undergraduate daily, was horn-rimmed Anthony Hiss, 20, a history and lit major who is aiming for Harvard Law School after his graduation next June. An earlier Harvard Law man (class of '29): his father, Alger Hiss, 57, an honors graduate who won the coveted post of secretary to Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes at the recommendation of Mentor Felix Frankfurter, served as a high State Department official before his conviction (and three-year eight-month imprison ment) for perjury in denying that he had passed Government papers to onetime Communist Courier Whittaker Chambers. He is now a salesman for stationery and printing interests.

For the edification of those disgruntled by and ' South private Viet Nam's dancing, new ban on strait-laced public First Lady Mme. Nqo DInh Nhu delivered a stern lecture. "Foreigners come here not to dance, but to help Vietnamese fight Communism." said President Diem's sister-in-law and official hostess. "Dancing with death is sufficient." Besides, said she, "Asians are not used to promiscuity be tween men and women. If the Americans want to dance, they should go elsewhere." And what of Saigon's 1,200 newly unem- ployed taxi dancers? Said the mandarin Mme. Nhu coldly: "The question is not finding work for them, but starving them into more useful jobs."

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