Crime used to be fascinating and weird and wear suits, whatever happened to those guys?

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Anyway, a friend of mine, extravagantly handsome, first came to New York as a model in 1978. Of course a looker such as he was immediately sought after as the must-have accessory at the better parties of the season. That summer, he was taken to Fire Island for the first time, and after a few minutes spent admiring the beauty of that wild and barren sand bar, he insists that he spent the remainder of the afternoon fleeing through High Tea right there in the main harbour as an extremely inebriated Diane Von Furstenburg chased him up and down and here and there, all the while shrieking, "What's the matter? Why won't you fuck Prince Egon?"(*)

I For those of you kiddies who couldn't possibly remember, Prince Egon was a leading fashion designer, well-known homosexual, and Heir to the House of Furstenburg, a tiny principality based mostly in southern Baden-Württemberg. Egon died in 2004, but his widow Diane, famous for creating the legendary wrap dress that changed entirely the face of fashion in the lat '70s, has since gone on to even greater success in the field of Marrying Homosexuals with Lots and Lots of Money by wedding billionaire Media Mogul Barry Diller with whom she lives today in New York City.

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I must have been on a later boat. Damn. It surely was my sort of scene back then.

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DVF: Original Gangsta Bitch!

BTW, Lil, funny story.

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