Octogenarian Aristocrats Gone Wild

As you may have heard, 85-year-old very old line aristocrat Gloria Vanderbilt has written a dirty book. Though it's receiving paltry reviews at best, more than a few people have noted how the dual image on the cover oddly resembles a certain prematurely gray talking head on CNN and, for that matter, the Diane Arbus creepy shot of him as an infant.

Although I would love to see that episode of the Love Boat where she and Halston appeared, I was never a fond of her "fashion design" era which was about as tacky as family member Amy pitching spray wax.
Most people seem to have long forgotten her more interesting design career as a collage artist. Back in junior high school I devoured her book on the topic and would love to get my hands on a copy again. Her above work for Liberace is an example of what she was capable of back then.

The idea of a member of American near royalty writing such a book at 85 is intriguing, and I have mixed feelings about her appearance at this age. She is a bit creepy looking at times, but also remarkable. More intriguing to me is that voice. We simply don't hear that kind of voice these days. For all his pedigrees, Anderson doesn't sound that different than a guy that grew up in suburban St. Louis. But Gloria speaks with the diction I associate with early teacup drama talkies and women (such as my mother) who studied with elocution coaches. In Gloria's case it's not likely constructed and the voice of a woman from a class a notch or two above the Beales and the Bouviers. Apparently she's also done a version of the book on CD, but I'm not sure I am quote ready to hear that voice reading those words.

Socialites Adrift

Since I have until September to do so, I plan to wait a few weeks, perhaps when I have some vacation to see the Frida Kahlo show at SFMOMA. Seeing her ubiquitous images in the Mission down to even a pizza joint named in her "honor" have made me tire hr as much as I do.

Reviews from a number of friends of seeing her works in "the flesh" have reminded me of the importance of seeing such shows live. I am particularly intrigued by the comments I've heard about "The Suicide of Dorothy Hale" described as such:

Suicide of Dorothy Hale. Dorothy Hale had been the wife of Gardiner Hale, a well-to-do American portrait painter who had died in a crash during the 1930s. Without her husband to support her, Dorothy Hale ran into financial difficulties that she was unable to solve. On the morning of October 21, 1938, she committed suicide by throwing herself out the window of her suite in the Hampshire House building.

Clare Booth Luce, publisher of the magazine "Vanity Fair" and friend to both Dorothy Hale and Frida Kahlo, commissioned Kahlo to paint a portrait of Dorothy, for the sake of Dorothy's mother.

She was shocked when she saw the finished piece. The painting depicts Dorothy's fall, first showing her as a tiny figure against the backdrop of the Hampshire House, then as a larger shape tumbling through the clouds and, finally, as a bloody corpse on the ground. The frame of the picture was decorated with trickles of blood.

The publisher's first impulse was to have the painting destroyed, but she was persuaded by friends to keep it.

Socialites in distress have always been a fascination to me. For the two people on earth who have yet to see it, here is the performance of Tricia Walsh-Smith.

Quote of the Week

I've always adored Brigid Berlin, the perfect motor-mouthed, penis art connoisseur, substance abuser, eating disordered, rehab junkie heiress. The 2000 documentary on her life, Pie in the Sky, was one of the most compelling tales of Factory denizens. It is at once profoundly sad and funny, a reminder that no amount of rehab will help a person escape from the sources of addiction.

So I was thrilled to see this article in the current issue of Interview magazine commemorating Warhol's 80th birthday. Brigid's as wonderfully wacky as ever and offers this memorable quote:

"The world is fine. But the people in it suck."

Junk Thief May Return East

Often called the Brooke Astor of the West, Junk Thief is considering buying his name sake's digs on Park Avenue, being offered for a cool $46 million. With the crappy dollar-Euro exchange rate, this may be more easy to manage than the previous plan to buy a pied-à-terre in l'Eixample. The description of it being "well suited for elegant entertaining and intimate enough for family living" will likely remind people of the JunkPlex in the Mission, so it seems tailor made for those famed Junk Thief soirées. Plan B may be a trailer park in Antioch.

Best in Show: SUPREMELY Rich

Thanks to The Angry Young Man for pointing out that my favorite madcap heiress had a big win at the Westminster Dog show with her French Bulldog Diva. La Hearst-Shaw never ceases to amaze me, and I think she has nimbly continued the wacky, fun-loving heiress tradition begun three quarters of a century ago in the films of Claudette Colbert and Carol Lombard.

At the risk of shameless self-promotion, I thought I'd share this video tribute from about a year ago that also features a clean-shaved Junk Thief. I've been considering going back to that look. Any opinions?




P.S. to Paris Hilton: You're on the right track with run ins with the law, movies and designer dogs. However, study the career of Ms. Hearst-Shaw closely to see how a real master does it.