Deux Amis

This isn’t a story. It’s a collection of texts that I sent to a friend of mine. Maybe if you turn it sideways, it might seem more like a story. I was just telling someone about someone I used to know.

Raphael, I told you that ‘cute’ is not a word that often surfaces in my lexicon. But I have kind of a cute story for you. It starts out bad, but it should improve.

I found out a month or two ago, that a guy I used to hang out with up North had died. He had a very distinctive personality, and always dressed in black.

You already know that I had a side job as a fitness/personal trainer at a health club in Midtown. He was a member there. He never spoke to anyone, nor did anyone ever speak to him.

I like interesting people. I don’t really care what they look like. But if they pique my interest, I am sure to find a way to put myself in their path.

I used to know this girl named Bettina. She worked on Sixth Ave. between 54th and 55th. She worked for a booking agent. I’m not going to say that she was in the habit of ‘papering’ shows or performances, but she always had a healthy supply of tickets to Carnegie Hall, City Center, and Lincoln Center/Alice Tully Hall and she shared them with me.

Raphael, I’m just saying this to you. I’m not trying to be artful. I’m just sharing it. I asked him out one night because I had a pair of tickets. I forget where we went, but it was one of those places. Afterwards, he invited me to take dinner with him, and we did that at a very nice restaurant.

That’s just the way we did things. We were not romantic. Wait. That’s not fair. We enjoyed each other’s company and we talked about a wide range of things. We were both interested in art, music, dance, and women’s fashion. I was over at Martha Graham; he was designing Haute Couture at Saks Fifth Avenue. I would take him to performances, then he would buy dinners for us.

I dislike the word Bromance because I think that it is homophobic. We were just two young men who enjoyed each other‘s company. Sometimes we’d walk arm in arm like two old men. But we were usually in Midtown, and no one ever thought anything of it

He died a few years ago, reportedly from Covid. He was where he wanted to be, though: Lead Designer at Lanvin in Paris. I know this because Vogue Magazine published a tribute to my friend, Alber Elbaz.

That’s my storty for today. I hope it didn’t make you sad.