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2004-01-26
I pay attention, I
stop paying attention. I make an effort to start, or start
to.
"Helmut was very clear that he liked a big girl and blond girl, in
an impeccable suit and high heels," said Anna Wintour, the editor in chief
of Vogue.
I don't always care.
"He would take that
girl and put her in some wicked or naughty situation, kissing another
woman or in handcuffs."
Car crash at the Chateau Marmont.
His final spread in
Vogue will appear in the March edition, and in typical fashion, depicts a
model eating grass and another lying on a bed of nails.
Thank god that's
over, I'll think.
I never really had my big moment on the
screen.
Ann Miller. I love her tapping in Stage Door. Lung cancer in
Hollywood. Tap tap tap tap tap tap
her agent said she
could actually produce 500 taps a minute. Nobody ever disputed
him.
I topped the chart on the typing test at MIT in 1997 and the HR
lady didn't even say Congratulations.
In 1946, she
married a millionaire.
Each and every resentment I've ever
inspired—including those only suspected—I've matched with a grudge.
Whereas nothing could be more absurd.
I have lived in
castles, in Venetian palaces and the world's finest hotels.
Prince Alfonso Hohenlohe-Langenburg, Who Built Resorts, like him I
should complain.
I have watched the sun rise over the beaches of five
continents
(prostate cancer in Marbella)
and I have looked
into the eyes of the most beautiful women of the universe.
Quotations from The New York Times (Jan
2004)