THE ROYAL WEDDING

Regarding “Shinto Meets Chanel” (by Nina J. Easton, June 6): Princess Masako Owada of Japan has been surrounded, encapsulated and frozen in a time warp of double-standard traditions as if she were a fossilized beetle trapped in amber. TERRY KING Los Angeles GENERATION X

Michael Walker’s “Twentysome-thing-O-Rama” (June 6) made our generation look like a group of undereducated, authority-ducking, MTV-watching, “Brady Bunch” wanna-bes who care about nothing more than partying and buying items that remind us most of days gone by. There’s another side to our generation that could be written about. Most of us in this age category are accomplishing our goals (as best we can) and taking our places in society. ANDREW EVELER Sylmar

Walker must be wearing a satisfied, smarmy grin, having hacked his way through yet another article about Generation X. I know none who consider themselves part of a group that merits such a derogatory appellation. We don’t delight in the jealousy of baby boomers or wear “telltale smirks.” We only wish we could have the “perfect life” our parents did (yeah, right!). We don’t need Walker’s exaggeration to tell us what we live like, what we dream and what we want. JENIFER MITCHELL Long Beach

Walker’s inane piece on my generation was laid out in typical boomer fashion--as a list of things we all do or like. Boomers love shopping lists; it helps them to identify themselves. They just have to buy into whatever is “in,” and then they are set for a few years (that’s right, you bought bell-bottoms again). My generation is more complex, but we’re not detached, as so many crybaby boomers report. We’re simply not mindless joiners, and we’re not “post-anything” or “twentysomething.” And when most of us think of Generation X we think of Billy Idol’s punk band. Those of us 25 to 29 were hit squarely in the face by punk rock. People under 24 caught onto rap. The difference between these two groups is as vast as the gulf between the boomers and us. The 25- to 29-year-olds are the youngest children of very old World War II parents or are the offspring of the oldest of the boomers. Generation X, if a name is needed, would work fine for that group. As for the 24-and-under crowd, well, the boomers brought them forth, so the boomers can name them and then sit down and write shopping lists for them. COLIN MILLER Burbank

I loved the drawings in Walker’s article. The text was cute but lacked substance, the way tofu lacks real flavor. I thought that after all these years yuppies, hippies, beatniks, new-agers and other assorted boomers would have realized that nothing constructive comes from sticking a label on a decade’s worth of individuals. JULES TANNER Los Feliz

We twentysomethings are probably the only ones left who buy Tab, smoke and work out, stack our Marty Robbins CDs next to those of the Cure, the Cult, the Jam and Gershwin; listen to Kevin and Bean and AM talk-radio, and buy things we need and want--not things the media need us to want. Sorry, Mom, it’s not “just a phase.” SHARON MACMILLAN-KNUDSEN Santa Monica

THE DISNEY CONSPIRACY Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy? Does Patt Morrison’s column (“Mickey Mole,” Three on the Town, June 13) suggest that the Walt Disney institution has always been an elitist cult operation engaged in espionage? As a 1944 high school graduate, I had the perfect profile for a cult follower. I felt lucky walking down Pluto Drive to my very first job, that of an inker in the Disney studio. Today I see the setup for what it really was. First, we were issued white lab coats and white cotton gloves to wear at work. Today I recognize this as an attempt to subdue individuality. Then there were the lounge rooms, with couches designed to relieve eye and back strain. But there was also piped-in music that could have been delivering subliminal messages intended to mold the subconscious. Then there was the company store, kind of a neat gift shop where many of the rejected cels created in the inking and painting departments ended up matted and framed for purchase by the employees, whose aching fingers, eyes and backs were responsible for the rather pricey rejects. What should have really tipped me off was the salary. The sum of $25 a week kept one’s lifestyle on the simple side, thus avoiding the possible intrusion of capitalistic thoughts, such as how to invest surplus funds. Somehow, I sneaked through security one day and into the free world after three years of servitude. But until now, I never wanted to talk about those years and still wonder what happened to all the others I left behind. JEAN JONG Santa Monica

THE SKY’S NO LIMIT In reading “Re-Feathering the Nest” (by Barbara Thornburg, Style, June 13), I was disturbed by architect Michael Lehrer’s statement: “When you buy a piece of property, you also own the sky . . . .” Does that mean it’s OK to blot out our neighbor’s sky? On my block, five homeowners have, quite legally, claimed their sky, and I now need a periscope to see my city views. When we think of saving the planet, we should start by thinking about the space above and around us. It’s as good a place as any to start. MARJORIE H. ERICSSON Hollywood