by Andy Warhol
Tuesday, January 13, 1987
Had to go to a Food Emporium on 70th and West End Avenue for an Easter Seals thing that Dr. Kritsick the handsome veterinarian helped organize where Almond Delight breakfast cereal was putting hundred-dollar bills in the boxes and you had to go through the store finding them. Like an Easter egg hunt (cab $4). And there were no celebrities, really, although there were supposed to have been. Just a karate guy. But the great and only celebrity was Eddie Fisher and he wasso much fun! He looks young but ugly, but he’s so much fun! I can see why Carrie Fisher married the Simon guy because he’s like Eddie without curls. If I’d ever met Eddie in the sixties we would’ve been best of friends. Now he just does charity work. The first thing he said was, “You did a picture of me.” The one I did in 1962—the newspaper front-page of him and Liz. And I told him about all my crystal doctors and chiropractors and he was really interested and then later as I was leaving the office at 5:00—I had to leave early—he was calling, he’d looked up the Interview number, and so I’ll call him back. He was so much fun.
Anyway, back at the thing, we went through the store and I only found one box but Kritsick found ten and Eddie found two so I gave him mine to make it three. So then I was leaving and they offered me a car but I was grand and said no, but I should’ve taken it because it was so windy out (newspapers $5, phone $2, cab $5).
Wednesday, January 14, 1987
It was a beautiful warm day. Went to the office and Ian McKellen was there for lunch, it was Fred’s lunch, and Sarah Giles from Vanity Fair. And he was so cute, he’s so sexy, his play Wild Honey just closed on Broadway and I really wanted to see it, it looked so good in the TV ads.
Went to the Dolly Parton party with Sam and Len down to the Gotham (cab $3.50). Dolly was arriving right when we got there and she gave a speech saying that this was a party to celebrate signing with CBS Records after being with RCA for twenty years. She just turned forty and she looks absolutely beautiful, but like everything’s been done. She’s really tiny but her tits are so huge they have to be implants because you just can’t get that thin and still have those big tits— I’m sure they would’ve shrunk. Barry Diller came with Calvin and Kelly, and David Brenner came.
Dolly was sweet. Danny Fields was there and I told him I want to tape his life story and he said he would let me.
All the Details people were there and they had the new issue with Stephen Saban’s pictures that he took in a photo booth in ‘65 when we were down at the University of Pennsylvania for my first art show. I guess at the time he was a student and he had me sign one picture and Edie signed another and Gerard signed another. It’s a full page and it looked great. Annie Flanders was there and Michael Musto. James St. James was wearing four-inch heels and so was Dolly. And a black guy named Childs was there and he said, “I’m Cedar Bar,” meaning he was somebody who used to hang around there, and he looked at young Sam sitting there with his snotty attitude and said, “I see these young kids and all I can think is, ‘Pay your dues.’ “ And he was right, Sam has a lot to learn and I hope he learns it. I spoiled him, taking him to glamorous places when his mind wasn’t ready for it. Now he thinks that’s what he deserves and he’s fresh to everybody.
And then Paige and I walked over to Nell’s. It was beautiful weather, in the forties or fifties. And Nell’s was so glamorous. Fred was there with Ian McKellen and his I guess boyfriend Sean. And against the wall was Claus von Bulow and Cosima and Andrea Reynolds, and Nell just goes around taking pictures of people like Fred passed out on the divans. She has a funny picture of Taki whispering in Bob Colacello’s ear and Anthony Haden-Guest trying to hear it. And Sting was there, he wears Cerutti clothes now, and Nell asked him how his career and all started and he said this and that happened and then he said, “And then Andy made me a star.” Maybe we were the first to put him alone on a magazine cover. He said he wants to do plays now. I don’t know why Sting would ever do that Frankenstein movie, The Bride. If it had been a singing Frankenstein, that would’ve been something.
And then Nell left her chair and then Bob Dylan came over and sat down and he said he’d just seen my photography show at the Miller Gallery—that he’d literally just come from there. And then Nell came back and pretended she didn’t know who he was and said that that was her seat.
I want Nell to take pictures for Interview, but she only takes color pictures so I left her some of my black and white film.
I introduced von Bulow to Nell and then to Dylan. I lost my scarf and I was glad because I hated it. But then I found it. That cashmere scarf I ordered from Brigid’s friend who knitted it on a machine and it was supposed to be like the red Halston one I’d lost, but the Halston one was somehow so light and this one is so heavy. Paige dropped me off at 2:00.
And poor Bess Myerson’s on suspension. She’s really in trouble because they say she sort of bribed a judge to reduce her married boyfriend’s alimony payments. I can’t believe all these men fighting over this sixty-year-old lady.
Friday, January 16, 1987
I just can’t face going to Europe. And the TV news said they’re smearing themselves with bear grease in Russia this week, it’s so cold over there.
Rode uptown to the David Salle opening. Bruno and Yoyo were there. It’s sixties work all from Jim Dine and Rauschenberg and Jasper and me—all put together and beautiful. It’s intellectual.
And Sam Wagstaff died the other day.
Then cabbed to Mr. Chow’s for the Salle dinner ($5). All the art dealers were there. And Mary Boone who wants to give me a show, the Rorschach things. And the Voice gave my photography show a good review.
I still want to do the “Worst of Warhol,” all the stuff that didn’t come off. I’ll (laughs) have to do more, though.
Bruno wanted to sit with Robert Mapplethorpe but I didn’t want to. He’s sick. I sat at another place.
Saturday, January 17, 1987
Did a last Diary with PH before the European trip where it’s still so cold. Went to the office and worked until 7:00, and then Paige picked me up and we went down to Keith Haring’s opening. Keith’s show was interesting, the work looked different, it was as if he wanted to have a lot of things to show so he worked faster, it’s not so planned-looking. Yoko and her Sam were there but Sean wasn’t, Yoko said he had gone off to a birthday party, that he was old enough now to be making his own plans. Later I said to Keith, though, “Oh, gee, where’s Sean?” To make sure he noticed that Sean hadn’t come. To rub it in. I guess it was mean but (laughs) I’m still jealous that Sean likes Keith better than me.
Sunday, January 18, 1987—New York—Paris
The weather in New York was great and I hated to leave it. Got up at 6:00 and packed. I tried not to think. The bag was too heavy, don’t know why. I never change clothes over there and never take a shower. I always wind up just sleeping in my clothes every night. Chris Makos picked me up at 10:00. Picked Fred up, he was on time. Got to the airport (driver $60). Wore layers, everything on my back.
Got to Paris. A driver named Freddy picked us up. Checked into Hotel Lenox. Chris had the better room, naturally, what else is new? My room was freezing but it was cute. Small but cute. All that nice old kind of French wood. We walked on the ice to the Café Flore. Had some sandwiches and that was it. We were the only ones there, we closed it ($35). Back at the hotel I fell asleep with all the lights on. Chris was smart, he had two heaters sent up to his room.
Monday, January 19, 1987—Paris
We went to the Beaubourg and Chris got us in free and we saw the Schnabel show there and it looked great, he looked like a talented artist, and then we went up to the Japanese show, it looked like they copied everything from the West, a lot of Frank Lloyd Wright. Lunch at this chic cafe ($35). I went down to pee and it was a wonderful bathroom, a big sheet of glass with water running behind it and you piss on the glass. So modern, so weird. If Chris hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known where to pee. It looks like a fountain.
Tuesday,
January 20, 1987—Paris
Ran into Art Kane, the photographer, and spent some time with him. He said he was married again, to a French wife. Ran into Fred, had something at Café Flore ($15). Bought magazines, caught up on the good ones ($20). Tried calling some kids for dinner but nobody seemed to answer their phone—James Brown and all those kids. Chris looked at our plane tickets and noticed that they went to Rome instead of Milan, so I decided we were going to fire our travel agent. Chris worked on the phone getting it straightened out. Stayed up reading magazines.
Wednesday, January 21, 1987—Paris—Milan
Met by the police and they took us right through customs and everything because Lisa Soltilis was with lolas and she’d gotten the police to do everything for us. If we’d been sneaking in marijuana or drugs it would’ve been so easy. She was so friendly, but later we began hearing wild stories about how her husband was keeping lolas in a sanitarium. Found lolas in the VIP room. He was like a little old lady wrapped up in fabric. We found out later he’d come out of the hospital just to pick us up. Then the whole story began unraveling. lolas was just presenting me at the bank Credito-Valtellinese. “Alexander lolas Presents Andy Warhol.” He must’ve gotten all this money to “present” us. My Last Supper show was closing down that day and my other show was opening, so there was lots of publicity. lolas was really sweet. He had to be driven back to the hospital. Lisa took us to the hotel. Our rooms were beautiful. The Principe di Savoy. Christopher took the best room with the TV. Fred was down the hall (bag man $10, magazines $25, waiter $5). Daniela Morera called and began taking over. She said she had the flu and I knew I was going to get it from her. Went to the gallery to do press and TV. We had a car of our own, twenty-four-hour service.
Thursday, January 22, 1987—Milan
Went to the gallery for the 11:00 press conference, 250 press people. Scary and stupid. Got that all over with. Signed a lot of posters. Then we had free time. Lunch with Gianni Versace, went to his castle. Rizzoli’s old castle. Big Roman and Greek statues that Suzie Frankfurt got Versace to buy. It was grand, huge, so glamorous. We had a good time.
Then had to go back to the gallery to do another press conference at 4:30. Stayed till 8:30 with Daniela coughing in my face and me signing autographs. Gianni did the costumes for Bob Wilson’s Salome at La Scala. He got us tickets so I could slip away from my opening when I got tired. Finally Fred grabbed my pen and whisked me away.
Sat in a box seat watching the opera, then had to go to this dinner for me. Saw Gerard Malanga’s first girlfriend there who he wrote all the poems about, Benedetta Barzini. She was with her husband and being so grand. I ate a lot and Daniela was coughing into my food. I’d been resisting her flu for two days straight while she talked into my face, but finally I gave in and got it. Went home just exhausted.
Friday, January 23, 1987—Milan
Woke up feeling a little funny, read the newspapers (waiter $5). Daniela was going to come and take us to lunch but I was exhausted and I decided I’d stay in and nap a little. My temperature went up to 100 so I began taking vitamin Cs and my stomach got sour. Then lolas called to say he was coming over and I’d never really gotten a good night’s sleep. Daniela went out with Chris and Fred and they brought me back drugstore medicines which turned out to be antihistamines which kept me up instead of putting me to sleep, so it was a day of horror but it went by fast.
Iolas looked all right. And Fred stayed on an extra day to do business with him. Chris came by and ordered soup, taking my temperature every minute. It went up and down. He went out and had a good time discoing and I kept taking Valiums and not being able to sleep. My temperature went down. Watched TV and tried to sleep, getting ready to get up at 6:00.
Saturday, January 24, 1987—Milan—New York
Got up in Milan. I hadn’t slept all night after taking the pills that Daniela got me. All they did was dry me up and the suppository didn’t do anything, but my fever was going so I think I just had the twenty-four-hour flu, after all. I’d taken vitamin C and even aspirin. Christopher got me some soup and bread. But those pills sort of hung there all night, just stuck, and didn’t go anywhere. I hate Daniela for giving me the flu and I hate her for those pills. But I’d also taken Valium like crazy and nothing happened, but then in the morning everything was fine. Left the place (concierge $50, doormen $25, baggage $10, driver $100, magazines $20). Got to the airport easily.
And on the plane a milestone happened—I was in the International Herald Tribune and I didn’t even bother to clip the article. I just—didn’t—care. So I’ve gotten to that point. Maybe it was just that I felt so sick, but still I didn’t bother. And Chris pointed out that this lady in Milan who was so nice and sweet and glamorous when she was interviewing me wrote horrible mean things.
We got to New York and the driver was waiting (car $70). I didn’t get a receipt. I really wasn’t feeling well.
Sunday, January 25, 1987
Paige was sweet, she brought over soup and bread and dessert from the Café Condotti. She really goes out of her way and she’s got so much energy, she’s like Chris, except that Chris only does it for himself, and Paige does it for other people. I can see why she gets upset when things happen, because she puts so much into other people.
And Mrs. Aquino’s being so grand in the Philippines, smiling away, and her guards killed thirteen people at the palace. Why didn’t they shoot over their heads? Or use tear gas. It makes you think that Communists did it to other Communists just to start trouble. Or something.
It was Superbowl Sunday and seeing the people in the stands, football games are really the best places to meet macho guys. If Paige wants to meet men and get married she should be going to football games, not to the ballet! Go bowling in Brooklyn—Manhattan is too sophisticated.
Then there were tickets put aside for me at the Joyce Theater where Robert LaFosse was doing a guest appearance in Karole Armitage’s ballet. This is the thing that her boyfriend David Salle did the costumes for, he’s the artistic director. And then Paige had arranged dinner at Indochine with the New York City Ballet people to talk about the curtain they want me to design. That was at 9:45 or 10:00.
The phone kept ringing and my stomach was a mess, I shouldn’t have eaten the dessert Paige brought. Kenny Scharf called trying to get me to buy land in Brazil and I’d been ready to send him a check but then Fred had screamed at me about it while we were in Europe. He was insisting that it’s just black-market sales and you don’t have a contract or really proof that you own it. But it’s so cheap. And Paige wanted to go in on it with me and she was going to go down for a week and check it out. You get (laughs) your own coconut tree. But they say there are too many killings there and that they could just take the land away from you at any time. But gee, it’s so cheap.
Stuart and I went to Sotheby’s and it was packed, they had Americana. Jamie Wyeth was there but not Phyllis, and he looks older, he’s lost his boyish charm, he’s grander. Then I felt worse so I went to the drugstore and got some Maalox.
And Peter Wise called up, I knew he would call because I heard he wants a job with Stuart Pivar. But ever since that time he wouldn’t accept my word over Kent Klineman’s, I just think he’s stupid….Didn’t I ever tell the Diary about this? About the big fight I had with Peter? I mean, here I’d been good friends with him for six years and I’m telling him a fact and suddenly he was saying, “Well that’s not what Kent says,” and I said, “Well if 1 say something’s red and you can see that it’s not, you should still believe me because we’re friends.” So I told him that if he didn’t want to believe me he should just ask Fred and he did and it turned out I was right, but he hadn’t believed me alone, and that made me so mad, I just thought it was so awful. And when he called yesterday we never got around to talking about the job he wants to get working for Stuart, but I know that’s what he wanted.
And now somehow I’ve hired Chris’s friend Ken to pick me up in the mornings, he’s going to be my new bodyguard.
He’s a really good-looking tall blond kid. The one from Florida.
So then I went over to the Joyce Theater and Tama met us there, she came in from Princeton (tickets $40). The production was stinkeroo, but Robert LaFosse is really professional.
Then after the ballet I couldn’t face dinner at Indochine so I just went to a fruit stand and I got a pineapple and bananas and apples and I went home. The driver asked me for an autograph so I had to tip big (cab $9). And then I made juices out of the stuff and by the time I was done it had taken so long I could’ve gone to the dinner—after squeezing everything and washing out the juicer. Took a sleeping pill and slept all night. Woke up at 6:00.
Monday, January 26, 1987
Ken picked me up and it was too cold to pass interviews out so we didn’t even take any (magazines $6). Went to the West Side to Dr. Li’s (cab $4).
Our Charlie Sheen cover is really good timing. Platoon is the big thing. And Interview’s coming down an inch, Gael said. With the new postage rates it’ll save $20,000 a month. I guess a big-size magazine doesn’t mean anything—I don’t know what does.