Another friendly phone call. “Joan Didion! Anna Wintour here. Calling, as always, to wish you a happy belated Met Gala season, and to wonder why it was that I wasn’t in the habitualment of seeing you there this year?” “Anna! Thanks terribly. This year I decided to celebrate in my own quiet way, by having myself thinly shaven into an asparagus and fennel salad (for spring) and then writing threatening letters to the estate of Tony Curtis. Where was he the night Natalie Wood died? That’s what I’d like to know. How about you? How did you celebrate fashion’s highest night of glitz, glamour, and Catholicism?”