2nd of November 2012
Apparently this tribute post to my friend Loreen has caused considerable angst to folks that also have called her friend.
If in my own sadness I said anything that has caused hurt I regret that fact.
I received a comment from one individual, quite mean spirited and untrue, that gave me an indication of the breadth and impact this modest studio blog possesses in this age of hyper connection.
My intention was a testament to my friend, her kindness, her quirkiness and her compassion.
I have combed through my post searching for anything that might be misconstrued.
What I will not do is erase the memory of my friendship with this exceptional woman.
That belongs to me.
If for some reason (even after scrupulous editing ) I have somehow missed an untruth I will consider reasonable requests for further editing.
Please remember to maintain a courteous tone when making comments.
Thanking you in advance,
respectfully,
Leonard Greco
I lost a friend today, she died suddenly, I hope without too much agony.
In April she was gleefully attending to her duties as a Palm Beach hostess; by August cancer had spread through her little bird like body.
My heart is heavy thinking of my friend suffering .
Her name was Loreen Farish her maiden name was long , complicated and Teutonic ,”B” something, I’m ashamed to say I do not know it. Nonetheless she was a wonderful friend, a joy to play with, laugh with and share a cocktail with.
Born into an old Philadelphia family, rich in lineage; she fell in love with Judge Joe. Equally old family, southern charm, grand old plantation sort of background, he had love to spare . They were an odd-ball pair, he a bit older, both vivacious and social. He built the biggest house on the block, dwarfing Tiger Wood’s pile.
Restraint wasn’t their style, they lived lavishly yet in keeping with good old Waspy sensibilities (if not orthodox taste), frugally popping into the Dollar store almost every day -” A hundred bucks buys a lot!”one of Loreen’s familiar refrains.
I met Loreen as a client, initially it was difficult, she wanted mermaids but insisted upon Disney characters; fortunately she liked me and I reminded her of fairy tales and she warmed up to softer imaginings. I worked for her for years, often camping out in Palm Beach, she would golf, go to Walmart for inexpensive fabric (she made her own clothing out of some of the most audacious patterns I have ever seen), she would play and fuss over her ridiculously spoiled cat Maya but most especially fun, she would chat with me.
Trips down Memory Lane of “fabulous” parties and costumes, tickled by excess,she would trot out her jewels (Harry Winston, the NY jeweler was a family friend and crafted much of her collection) modeling them in her sweetly silly pajamas.
Every day was show time, no outfit was complete if it wasn’t thoroughly “themed”, jungle print costume required amber pineapples tipped with jade fronds and panther bangles ;summertime fare featured funny crab pins articulated in such a way that the ruby arms pinched you amusingly, pearled starfishes sat on her breast; a trip to the race track suitably and campily equestrienne.
Loreen loved camp and adored skewering “good taste”, nothing made her happier than pissing off her somewhat priggish decorator (my boss) with her outrageous glitzy taste.
I loved her for all these reasons, her “garden” fashioned from dollar store blooms; her silly cards on “our” holidays: St. Pat’s, Valentines Day and most especially Halloween. She didn’t manage to live to see Halloween this year, I sent her a card as usual, but I doubt she was well enough to chuckle at it. That hurts.
When told her cancer had spread essentially everywhere, chemotherapy wasn’t helping at all ; her response was typical: “Oh shit!”.
Such a statement, typical of her, would have been more effective with a tall glass of gin in one hand and a cigarette in another , but by that time… But Loreen was right, “Oh Shit!”.
I miss you my friend.
The following are snippets of the work I did for her (around 2004).
I confess they are not really something I am particularly proud of : but she loved them, that makes me proud. I haven’t had many “fans” over the years, but Loreen was my most faithful.
Today I lost a fan and a friend, and tonight my world is a bit lonelier.
Red, purple, gold (real gold) and white (as in marble), were the only colors permitted. I love a design challenge and this was a doozy.
My favorite room was the Breakfast Room, the Atlantic lapping at the door, and one of those ostentatious mega fishtanks front and center. But Loreen and I had a ritual at day’s end, drink martinis and feed “Joe’s” fish. She was squeamish about the live fish food so she thought her vegetarian friend should have the honor. Suitably lubricated we would giggle and fall in love with the finned fellows. When one died (they were always dying) we were heartbroken. We decorated the room with a grotto theme, it is far more elaborate than what I have posted, but enough is enough.
Joe was big game hunter ( I know disturbing as all Hell). He had tons of musty dead animals all over the place. Loreen was the least PC person I knew, she delighted in decorating the stuffed horrors with diamonds. It was awful, but her delight tickled me in spite of myself. This poorly painted cat is taken “from death” , a study of a ratty moth eaten feline, one of a pair.
As I mentioned Loreen wasn’t at all politically correct, quite the opposite. Her husband didn’t hold strict politically correct views either. When decorating the house powder room a Blackamoor was requested. Blackamoors are considered by many to be a “no-no”, viewed as insensitive concerning racial identity. There is a decorative tradition for this sort of thing, that’s what I told myself , for I also love Blackamoors.
I cringe a bit at this image, poorly rendered, harsh coloring,distasteful; but it pleased Loreen immensely .
The following is a page from the aforementioned “shelter” magazine. The “slipper” chair was equally treasured, you see what company my poor Blackamoor keeps.
Loreen was the last of her line, the house will be sold.
It is an ostentatious pile, 20-30 thousand square feet, I can’t keep track of that sort of thing. But it will most likely be torn down, my frivolous decorations with it: Jack climbing his Beanstalk as you ascend the elevator; the pretty golden mermaids in the maid’s bathroom; Maya’s feline portrait a la Turque over the bidet, all will go. That’s the price you pay with decorative work, it’s ephemeral.
I’m not saddened by the loss of work I am not particularly proud of. I am saddened at the loss of the moment, funny hours, a bit blottoed on martinis giggling with my friend. Silly funny memories from a delightfully silly, sometimes terribly sad woman I was very pleased to call my friend.
Tomorrow is Halloween , Happy Halloween dear Loreen.
You were a complicated, perplexing , sweet and thoughtful friend.
I miss you, looking at these images reminds me once again how fleeting all of this is, the good and the bad.
Take care friends,
Happy Spookiness!
LG
Boondocks Babylon 