During the maudlin final days of the Bush administration, I glumly wondered if New York would even survive until O-Day, January 20, 2009. Twin Towers gone, Wall Street tanked, Hamas bombing Israel and vice versa. Allah is apparently just not that into us. And then a lone angel alit: Sully, the pilot who landed the bird-struck US Airways jet on the Hudson. And miraculously the mood changed. Hope broke out.
“There was a Valentino party at 54. I guess Stevie was trying to make it a really bad party, because he had the waiters dressed up like Pilgrims and he was serving turkey. . . . I lost Halston but I found him a little later eating a turkey leg, and he made me have some. The last place you want to eat meat from is a discotheque, but later I saw Stevie eating the turkey, too, so I guess it was okay.” The Andy Warhol Diaries, Sunday, November 19, 1978