I was so deeply distressed this week by the death of luminous young person Eva Evans.
I didn’t know her in real life, but ever since her 'heartbroken party girl' project CLUB RAT came out, she was—to use an old Wendy Williams term—"a friend in my head". Eva hung out, in her hot clothes and silver Fendi cowboy boots, with many people I know, in our common downtown world: at Lucien, at Jean’s nightclub on Lafayette, at Café Mogador. We even had the same favorite consignment store in the East Village, Tokyo Joe (though it’s changed over the years).