"Whatever the story of a DeMille film of the twenties, there came an obligatory halt in the plot for a lingering scene in which the heroine, sometimes the hero, washed and anointed herself in preparation for a masquerade ball or perhaps for some less public pleasure. C.B. made of the bathroom a delightful resort which undoubtedly had its effects upon bathrooms across the nation. After generations of Puritanism, it was thrilling to be told that bodily beauties were not a shame nor a weakness. American bathrooms, previously severely utilitarian, took on the gleam of marble, tile and chrome, and the tactile luxury of great fuzzy towels and rugs. By the end of the decade, plumbing corporations, which had never mentioned their wares in public, were taking full-page ads in newspapers and magazines displaying bathroom fixtures frankly modeled on the DeMille splendor.

The art of bathing was shown as a ceremony rather than merely a sanitary duty. Undressing was not just the removing of clothes, but a progressive revelation of entrancing beauty, a study in diminishing draperies. The point was that no stage of dress or undress need a woman look unlovely. To this end, underclothes became visions of translucent promise and nightgowns silken sensuality and invitation.

After the bathroom and the bath, the bedroom was DeMille's next choice for cinematic emphasis. Here too disrobing and enrobing was carried on at length and in full view of the camera. The romantic glory of the bed later culminated in a film called The Golden Bed in 1925. DeMille's beds were things to dream about, constructed more for art, culture, lovemaking and style, than for sleep." Quote from DeMille, the Man And His Pictures by Gabe Essoe and Raymond Lee, Castle Books, NY 1970