BG CONVERSATION didn’t want to tell you, but I was a great friend of Lucan’s, and nobody has ever found out [what TT: Awful. So he calls me up and we have a chat. He asked if Vanity Fair paid for the party. I said, happened]. Everybody knows, had the statute of limitations run out, I would have spilled the beans. “Don’t put this in the paper; nobody paid for the party.” Nevertheless they ran it. [Hardcastle’s item R E I cast doubt on Taki’s denial and claimed Carter helped draw up the guest list. In a subsequent col- L BG: This was when you wrote about Lucan for Vanity Fair, Nick? E umn, he described Dunne as an “octagenarian lounge lizard,” Taki as a “furtive, olive-skinned crea- H C DD: Yes. ture,” his guests as “grotesque Eurotrash rabble,” and the resulting article as “a two sickbags mas- R ? A terpiece of sycophancy.”] That’s typically English. You tell them black, they write white, and vice- Y M TT: B I had volunteered to go and take care of that killer who murdered Nick’s daughter, who went E versa. Nothing very surprising. Which doesn’t matter at all. When the tax people come after me, H D free, and I really meant it, because I was so…I’d just had a daughter, and I was so upset when I P K I’ll just tell them there’s nothing to tell! A C read the story that Nick had written about it [Dunne’s debut as a writer, in 1982, decried the R I R G BG: T three-year sentence his daughter’s killer received] that I said to him that I could kill that S.O.B. Now Nick has to do a party and invite you and all your enemies. O A T P O and there would be no connection with me whatsoever. But Nick is a Catholic and all that. Y DD: H [laughs] B P BG: He was looking out for you. But you hadn’t gone to jail yet. [Taki’s 1984 arrest at Heathrow H S TT: P Nick interrupted his book to do that party. How’s the book, Nick? Finished? O A L Airport for possessing cocaine inspired his crime-and-punishment memoir, Nothing to Declare.] R U G DD: P Not quite. I’ve never had as hard a time with a book as I’m having on this. O TT: O No. Then Nick called me when I wrote that thing about the Puerto Ricans [a wildly politically T C O TT: A incorrect column in The Spectator condeming the raucous behavior of spectators at a Puerto Really? Why? H R P O Rican Day parade on Fifth Avenue]. He called me out of the blue, and he said to me, “I’m worried E DD: D I just don’t know. It’s a novel. It’s about New York. It will get me in trouble again. N about your children. So I sent them to Southampton.” O N E U TT: Well, that’s all right. I find it very hard to write the columns now, compared to twenty years ago, H T D DD: Who was mayor then? when I knew much less, I had much less experience, I could knock off one column after another. DOMINICK DUNNE (LEFT) AND TAKI TT: Giuliani. He was furious. I do a lot of them; I have to do one this afternoon. I am writing about Truman Capote. The one thing his ball had…it had legs. Forty years later, they still talk about it. I went to all the great balls. The DD: It was brilliant, but it offended a lot of people. And I got worried! When Giuliani criticized him Bestegui ball. My parents were invited. I went to the Rochambeau ball. I went to the Rothschilds’ [denouncing the column and suggesting a boycott of The Spectator unless Taki was fired—he balls. I said, “Haven’t people ever heard of these balls? They call Capote’s the ‘Ball of the Century.’” wasn’t], I thought something’s gonna happen, and I called him in England. I’d forgotten this. What Capote did was, he invited a lot of marquee names he hardly knew and, of course, it was the BG: Taki, many people first noticed you when you wrote a column for Esquire in the early eight- first promotional party, and it’s all been a promotion ever since. Don’t you agree? ies when it was edited by Clay Felker. It seemed there was absolutely no check on you then. HOW TO MAKE ENEMIES DD: Absolutely. TT: Well, there wasn’t in those days. Now they won’t let you write anything. That was Clay [Felker]. TT: He was the first one to think of it. So crowded balls became public spectacles, and that was the Clay would let you do anything. end of Society. I was writing it last night, but I had a very tough time just getting the words right. DD: That was before I became a writer. I didn’t begin writing until I was fifty. So I missed that era. BG: Why do you think that is? AND INFLUENCE PEOPLE TT: By a minute. TT: I think it’s age. BY MICHAEL GROSS DD: By ten minutes! BG: Do you? TT: When I wrote that thing, “Panting for Paley,” about all the women who wanted to marry Bill TT: I’m sure Nick…Nick and I have…Yeah, I think it’s age. AGED SEVENTY AND EIGHTY-ONE, RESPECTIVELY, PETER THEODORACOPULOS—BETTER WOMAN: How wonderful to see you! Paley [the then-chairman and founder of CBS] when he became a bachelor, Clay encouraged KNOWN BY HIS NOM DE PLUME, TAKI—AND DOMINICK DUNNE ARE WRITERS WHOSE DD: How are you? me. I had an idea of calling them, you know, “the piranha,” “the shark”… DD: Why do you say that? CAREERS PROVE THAT EVEN IF THE TRUTH DOESN’T ALWAYS SET YOU FREE, EXCESSIVE CANDOR WILL KEEP YOU VITAL. WHEN WE MET FOR LUNCH AT BG, ON BERGDORF WOMAN: Very, very well. How are you? DD: The blowfish. TT: Writing is like sports. You’ll never be as good at seventy or at eighty as you were when you GOODMAN’S SEVENTH FLOOR, FOR THIS LATEST “BG CONVERSATION,” TAKI OPENED IT BY were thirty. DD: Marlene Hess, Taki. TT: Yeah, blowfish. Clay said, “Put the names in.” And it worked! But nobody would let you do that RELATING AN EXCHANGE HE’D HAD NOT LONG BEFORE WITH ONE OF THE PARTICIPANTS today, because I mean, there’s too many invitations, too many interconnections. But in those days, BG: But do you find that you hesitate because you worry more about consequences now? IN OUR LAST “CONVERSATION,” VANITY FAIR EDITOR GRAYDON CARTER. CARTER ASKED TT: How do you do? Clay only saw journalists. He didn’t care at all. TAKI HOW HE STAYED SO YOUNG. TAKI REPLIED THAT HIS FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH WAS AN TT: No, no, no. Not at all. Not at all! WOMAN: They have very good salads here. [laughter] BG: Speaking of connections, Nick, your “Diary” piece in Vanity Fair about Taki’s seventieth birth- ABSOLUTE ABSENCE OF AMBITION. THAT MAY BE TRUE. WHAT CERTAINLY IS TRUE IS THAT DD: You know what? I don’t either. No. TAKI AND NICK, AS FRIENDS CALL HIM, ARE BOTH HIGHLY PRODUCTIVE AND ROLE MODELS TT: I’m going to have your salad, then, too. day ball was terrific. Especially your description of the magnetic Scotty dogs—you and some of FOR JOURNALISTS AROUND THE WORLD, REVEALING AND REVELING IN THE HIDDEN the people you’ve written about—avoiding each other at a party. BG: Good. DD: What kind of salad are you having? DEPTHS OF MEANING IN SEEMINGLY SUPERFICIAL STORIES FOR MAGAZINES LIKE THE DD: Well, people hate me. DD: I figure, “Write it as you do…” Then if you have to change it in the editing, fine. SPECTATOR AND THE AMERICAN CONSERVATIVE (TAKI) AND VANITY FAIR (DUNNE) AND BG: Pistachio-crusted shrimp. It’s really good. BOOKS LIKE TAKI’S CLASSIC PRINCES, PLAYBOYS & HIGH-CLASS TARTS AND DUNNE’S BG: People hate Taki too! Which just means you both do your job. BG: Taki, what was the worst reaction you ever got to something you’d written? [As Marlene Hess retreats, a woman dining alone at the next table leans over.] BOOKSHELF-FULL OF BEST SELLERS FROM THE TWO MRS. GRENVILLES AND PEOPLE LIKE DD: That was a strange thing at your party that night. I mean, I am generally a popular person. TT: Obviously the Puerto Rican one. US TO THE FORTHCOMING A SOLO ACT. IN ADDITION TO WRITING, NICK HAS BEEN A WOMAN #2: I love everything you write about. But I have a small group of very powerful people who truly hate me. Anyway, two people with HOLLYWOOD PRODUCER, AND TAKI, A FORMER CAPTAIN OF THE GREEK KARATE TEAM AND BG: You think so? DD: Work that in the story! Heh-heh. whom I have truly interacted badly were at his party. I know you said don’t write about them, but A PROFESSIONAL TENNIS PLAYER. BESIDES COURTING CONTROVERSY, BOTH ALSO LOVE I had to mention it. They were involved in my life. TT: Oh yeah. Giuliani used to say, “Has he been deported?” and they should boycott Conrad TO SOCIALIZE AND HAVE FAMOUS FAMILY CONNECTIONS: TAKI IS THE SON OF A SELF- WOMAN #2: You’re the only reason I read Vanity Fair.