Fran walking Lili in Central Park in her hot pink (as CLICK) raincoat. I was sleeping in the guest room filled with paintings next to the kitchen. From the window I could look into the New York Athletic Club across 7th Avenue. From the terrace I could smell the transom horses waiting for passengers.
The world lost Frances Grill last night, the Andy Warhol of fashion. I will miss my friend. I will miss her stories, her subtle chuckle, her unerring eye for beauty, human and not. Sleep well, Frannie. Good night.