We've appended each ad with some choice excerpts from the overheated copy.
Packed like sardines, they stand for thirty minutes every morning and evening in badly ventilated discomfort. . . nerves wracked by subway roar. . . nostrils assaulted by subway smells. . . vitality sapped by subway scrimmages.
Your train jangles to a stop. A tackle ‒ an end rush. The same old two-a-day. Jammed to the bursting point. Will you ever get out again? Get off the subway circuit. Live in Tudor City and walk to business.
She plays the piano and speaks excellent French, but her habit of commuting is one her friends can't overlook. Leaving theatres and parties early to catch a train is a nuisance, as well as inexcusable ‒ when she could live in Tudor City.
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