My wife, Gigi, and I first met Margaux Hemingway in 1974, less than two weeks after she arrived in New York and moved in with a friend of Gigi’s from Texas. Margaux was barely 20 years old and so full of energy and enthusiasm that it was contagious! At the time her favorite reply to everything, belted out in a deep voice reminiscent of a foghorn, was a carefree “Scooby Do.”
Margaux was a young girl with a famous last name full of expectation turned loose in New York—a larger-than-life character with a huge smile and more energy than a long-distance runner.
By 1976, when this photograph was taken in her New York apartment, she had become the darling of New York—a six-foot-tall superstar—being invited everywhere. Yet, for a while she stayed grounded—the same down-home girl who had arrived in New York full of expectation two years earlier.
Halston had given her the dress she is wearing in this photograph for walking the runway for him. The next day, Margaux, Gigi, and I were all having hamburgers at Melon’s when she, unpredictable as ever, offered to sell the dress to Gigi.
I photographed Margaux again in 1974 with Joe Namath and Cary Grant as they were the famous faces of Fabergé, and again in 1988 with her father, Jack, at home in Ketchum, Idaho, after her stint at the Betty Ford Clinic.
Gigi and I saw less of Margaux as time went on and were very sad to learn of her tragic death. Yet, when I think back, I remember an exuberant 20-year-old full of life and expectation. She was a bright star who arrived quickly, and then she was gone.