Martin Scorsese’s Netflix series of conversations with this slightly fearsome – and to be frank, grumpy old lady – has brightened my days
Like a lot of New Yorkers, I have a Fran Lebowitz story – not a classic one, but it gives a flavour of the woman. It was the early noughties, and I was walking out of a fashion show. Among the celebrities dolled up like birds of paradise, a more pigeonesque figure in a pair of jeans and a blue blazer stood out. “Oh my God, that’s Fran Lebowitz!” I gasped, inwardly and outwardly. As she started to light her cigarette, someone told her to wait until she was outside.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she said, and stomped off.
