I remain in awe and admiration of my late friend Quentin Crisp, who went so far as to practically risk his life to be who he fully was; it fascinates me to see the extent to which people will go and the trials and tribulations they will put themselves through in order to find and hold onto their authenticity, to become their authentic selves.

Like many people who looked up Quentin Crisp in New York City’s White Pages in order to make his acquaintance (in his book Resident Alien, he encouraged his admirers — and there were many — to do this), I was no different.

I was in awe of his character after seeing the 1975 film The Naked Civil Servant (starring actor John Hurt as Mr. Crisp), and my borderline obsession with him was only enhanced by my subsequently reading his autobiography by the same name.

His determination to remain true to himself at all costs, under any circumstance, won me over with awe and admiration.

The day came when I met him in person, and I was giddy with excitement. 

We had lunch on the lower East side of Manhattan at the Cooper Square Restaurant; friendly people continually came up to greet him during our meal.

We became fast friends shortly after that, and we shared many more meals at such Greenwich Village eateries as The Beatrice Inn and Ye Waverly Inn. 

I assisted him with errands and he visited my house on Perry Street, where he sat for me in my verdant backyard behind St. John’s in the Village church, in what was to be his final photo shoot before his death in 1999.