I loved seeing Quentin Crisp in the East Village. To me, that was a real star sighting. Sometimes I wouldn't be able to say anything at all; other times, I'd wave and say, "Hello Quentin!" and he'd give a little nod and wave, crushed velvet fedora and ascot on, blush firmly in place.
I got a copy of "The Wit and Wisdom of Quentin Crisp," in the mid-1980s and every page was underlined and/or dog-eared: two things I never do with books. I felt like Quentin was speaking to me! This, I learned later, was one of the trademarks of Crisperanto.
Saturday night before seeing a dreary film, imagine my delight when I found two autographed books in a local used bookshop:
Look: a wallpaper collection of Quentin's scarves! Life can be good.