Reykjavik Summit: T shirts, Teacups and Togas

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Those clever Icelanders. Who knew that they secretly craved glamour and attention, the thrill of camera lights and sound bites? And what better way to capture the limelight than to play host to a meeting of the two most powerful men in the world? There were times last week when it seemed as if publicity-savvy Icelanders, not Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev, had initiated the summit that was not a summit strictly to promote their little island: Iceland the beautiful; Iceland the restful; Iceland, home of friendly blond-haired people with unpronounceable names who believe in elves.

But despite what often seemed like a trade fair for Iceland, the summit was an international magnet attracting a constellation of groups competing for attention and airtime: peace demonstrators, the families of refuseniks, Jewish activists, and summit perennials like Waluliso, 73, a fixture at last year's Geneva meeting, who wanders around the streets in his trademark bed-sheet toga, with plastic laurels around his head, shrieking for the need for world peace.

As soon as the summit was announced, the Icelandic government enlisted the services of one of its foremost emissaries, Miss Iceland, who is also the reigning Miss World. Holmfridur Karlsdottir, a blue-eyed nursery-school teacher, was called back from a trip to Singapore to dress up Reykjavík by traipsing around wearing a Reagan-and-Gorbachev-in-Iceland T shirt. "It's fabulous for Iceland!" she exclaimed. "It's the best publicity we could ever get." She was the soul of congeniality, but she adamantly refused to pose in a swimsuit. Prime Minister Steingrimur Hermannsson, on the other hand, showed no such reluctance. Hermannsson, who often takes a midday dip, was interviewed by television reporters while wearing only his swimming togs.

A round of official Icelandic receptions was politely turned down by the U.S. and Soviet delegations; both pleaded the burdens of work. But with a news black-out in effect much of the time, reporters bore no such burdens. The Icelanders essentially put on a huge trade show for their captive audience of some 2,000 journalists. The basketball court in the gymnasium of a local high school was transformed into the "Iceland Center," complete with a generous spread of local delicacies (herring, smoked lamb and skyr, which is said to taste like honey-flavored yogurt). Outside the press center, half a dozen honey-colored Icelandic ponies pranced in a light rain while their blue-blazered riders carried U.S., Soviet and Icelandic flags on long poles. The government also arranged a three-hour fishing excursion and a free dinner at the country's largest disco, Broadway.

By the time the U.S. and Soviet support staffs had arrived in Reykjavík, stores were already brimming with summit souvenirs. There were Icelandic wool sweaters with profiles of Reagan and Gorbachev ($45), scarves with the Stars and Stripes on one end and the hammer and sickle on the other ($20) and all manner of Reagan-Gorbachev T shirts celebrating the great event ($11.44). Top of the line was a commemorative ashtray with real gold lettering ($50). Some of the stores opened their doors on Sunday to satisfy souvenir-mad summiteers.