Fraser-Cavassoni Natasha - After Andy: adventures in Warhol land

When I moved to Manhattan, Andy Warhols memorial was my first New York society event. It took place on April 1, 1987. TheNew York Times Grace Glueck described the attendees as a glittering crowd and some of the worlds most droppable names in art, fashion, society and entertainment. In many ways, it was the perfect way to start my adventures in Warhol Land.

I knew most of the services details in advance because I was working at the Warhol Studio. Four days before Andys death on February 22, Id been officially hired. After lunch, Fred Hughes, Andys business manager, had set my terms and salaryfive hundred dollars per weekand then we met up with the artist, whod just arrived from one of his shopping expeditions. It was about twelve hours before he checked into New York Hospital.

This made me the last employee to be hired under Andy. Or the last English Muffin, which was the term for well-born British women working in the place. It was a tradition that was put down to Freds love of Old Blighty and its customs. Still, the artist was not averse. Noticing that theres an acceptance and even veneration of the different among the English. When meeting Andy for the first time in 1980, I had no idea that his white hair was a wig. Having been brought up around eccentricity, I thought Andy looked pretty straight and normal in his jacket and jeans, actually.

Sabrina Guinness, who never worked for Warhol but was part of his extended circle, senses that Andy was surprised by the English girls confidence. The type who turned up in laddered tights, showed no fear, and chattered away, she says. The social ease was of the utmost importance. Andy liked beauties and talkers, says Bob Colacello, who ran Warhols Interview magazine for twelve years. To focus on the latter, I have yet to meet a British woman who doesnt have the gift of the gab. Or, taking it to extremesmy casecouldnt talk the ear off a donkey. There was also the lively sense of the ridiculous. Again to quote Colacello: You couldnt be around Andy for any length of time unless you had a sort of camp sensibility and Oscar Wilde approach to life.

My chat-up and charm-school skills made Fred think I was the perfect casting for Andys MTV program. Being self-effacing and energetic, I would be the ideal interviewer on-screen and foil to the enigmatic Pop artist. So imagine Freds irritation and fury when I pretended to be blas about Andys memorial when the guest list was hoppinggasp!with names like Richard Gere, Roy Lichtenstein, Calvin Klein, Yoko Ono, and Raquel Welch and actually sent me into a total tailspin. Fortunately, such behavior came to a grinding halt when Fred asked what I was going to wear. Oh, I really dont know, I said. A major case of Pinocchio because as soon as I heard about the event I knew it would be my Max Mara wool skirt suit and Manolo Blahnik suede pumps that Id worn to my fathers funeral in 1984. And I can still picture Fred turning to me, dapper as ever in his dark charcoal-gray suit, crisp white shirt, and yellow-and-orange stripy tie with gold tiepin, and saying, This doesnt happen every day, Natasha. Andys memorial was huge for Fred, and he expected enthusiasm. The artists death must have devastated Fred, just as it had everyone else. Vincent Fremont, vice president of Andy Warhol Enterprises, compared hearing the news to being punched in the stomach and thrown out the window. However, the Texan-born Fred was too stoic to voice such feelings. He behaved like Jackie Kennedy did when her husband was assassinated, recalls Peter Frankfurt, who knew Andy from childhood. He was determined to keep it all together.

Keeping it together meant focusing on appearance. Fred also reveled in women making an effort and was slightly miffed if they didnt. One of his favorite quotes about dressing up came from Loulou de la Falaise, designer Yves Saint Laurents fabled muse, who once admitted, Whenever I hear that someone has died, I always think, What am I going to wear to the funeral?

Initially, there was a plan that Zara Metcalfe, my flatmate, and all the other Manhattan-based smart Brits, like Vanity Fairs Sarah Giles, Tatlers Isabella Delves Broughton, and Miranda Guinness, who worked for Mick Jagger, would go in together. That idea didnt pan out. It was just as well, because I was much more interested in standing outside and people-watching. Even then, I sensed that we would be witnessing history. Andys memorial service was the Big Apples equivalent of a royal event like the Queens Jubilee or Charles and Dianas wedding. There was also the fact that, like Andy, I loved celebrities. Bob Colacello reckons that being the kid from the wrong side of the tracks from Pittsburgh made Andy impressed with famous people. Not quite my case. I wasnt so much a groupie craving a mosh pit as I was someone who wanted to stand and stare from a distance. Andys first autograph was Shirley Temples. Mine was George SavalassKojaks younger brother. Never has a B TV star been more thrilled to be spotted on the Fulham Road. The situation had then dramatically improved when my mother, the bestselling historian Antonia Fraser, went off with the playwright Harold Pinter. And suddenly I had Edward Fox, Steve McQueen, and Jack Nicholson in my collection of autographs.