Lois Long, AKA Lipstick, flapper and old-school party girl.
Fresh from a night on the town, dressed to the nines, and flush from hours of heavy drinking, (New Yorker columnist Lois) Long managed consistently to leave the key to her enclosed cubicle at home and amused her colleagues by kicking off her heels, climbing in stocking feet onto the doorknob of her workstation, and hoisting herself over the demipartition wall. In hot weather, she’d casually strip down to her slip and clack away at her typewriter.
Because its offices were interspersed among several levels of a building … Long and her assistant were initially installed at opposite ends of the floor. After weeks of collaborating by telephone, to the amusement of everybody but (editor) Harold Ross, they donned roller skates and whirled back and forth between their desks, bobbing and weaving between overstuffed trash cans, abandoned cigarette stubs, and small mounds of stray pencil shavings. Finally, out of pure exasperation, Ross moved them both to a vacant restroom.
—From “Flapper: A Madcap Story of Sex, Style, Celebrity, and the Women Who Made America Modern” by Joshua Zeitz