Jeff Koons’s birthday was this week, and I feel the need to do a shout-out. While Mr. Koons (as my son calls him) has become a household name, there is more to this guy than balloon dogs and big metallic hearts. He happens to be a collector himself and a huge fan of the old masters. Not a surprise, as it takes knowledge and appreciation of the old to create the best new. Having not been born into collecting myself, I didn’t even know who he was when we first met. “Koons is going to be at the dinner with us,” shared our chic mutual friend. “Koontz?” I replied. “I hate suspense thrillers! Maybe I should bow out now and stay in tonight.” “Doooooottie,” said the chic friend, in a shocked tone, “I am talking Jeff Koons, the contemporary artist, not Dean Koontz, the author.” Still having no idea who he was talking about, I approached the evening with dread. Who knew that Jeff Koons (btw, to show you where I was at the time, he had absolutely already “emerged”) would be a lovely being with an even lovelier artist wife. Jeff and Justine have proved to be warm, fun, and philanthropic friends. Jeff even had my son and his entire class to his studio and presented them all with handmade gifts. (I die that my housekeeper thought the artwork was trash and discarded it in the back incinerator.) At any rate, not such a bad introduction to contemporary art. Speaking of which, I found amazing art this week in Rome and San Francisco, along with fun in Philadelphia, divine dresses by Twilley Atelier, and big cheese.
 

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