Which is the most infamous bite in history? Surely Adam’s, but then the one Steve Rubbell took off Halston’s leg was far more expensive. Let me explain for you young whippersnappers who’ve probably never heard of these people. (Both died of Aids in 1990.) The bite theme is inspired by Luis Suárez, no stranger to controversy in Britain but a hero in his homeland of Uruguay, where biting is the equivalent to our kissing, or so the volatile Liverpool footballer wants us to believe.
I broke the Halston-Rubbell-Bowes-Lyon-Princess Margaret story in this here column back in 1979 or 1980. It came back to me recently when I saw a documentary on Halston, a milliner who became famous because he designed the pink pillbox hat Jackie Kennedy wore the day her husband was assassinated. Actually Halston was quite a talented designer, but I wouldn’t know about such matters so I will stick to his constant partying in Studio 54 and profuse coke use. Halston partied exclusively with gays, who made up the Andy Warhol group. The owner of Studio 54, Steve Rubbell, partied with everybody, even unknowns, something Halston and Warhol did not. When Halston’s fame went international, as silly matters like fashion tend to do, he asked his friend John Bowes-Lyon, known as Bosie to the rest of us, to front a party for him in London and to produce Princess Margaret. Bosie did both, but also asked yours truly — who dutifully reported the shenanigans that followed in The Spectator, back then selling around ten thousand copies if that.
It was at either the Savoy or the Ritz and it was a lunch. Bosie stood in front of the dining room with Halston a few feet behind. Bosie did the greetings and introductions until Rupert Galliers-Pratt sauntered in with his faithful wife walking a few paces behind him. (In the original story I called him Rupert Pilkington-Boreham-Wood upon his request.) Hi, Bosie, said Rupert cheerfully and then quickly headed for the bar and free hors d’oeuvres. ‘I’m Halston,’ said the milliner in his very stiff manner, sticking out his hand. ‘Thank you, Halston,’ boomed Rupert throwing his Anderson & Sheppard coat on poor Halston’s extended arm while rushing to the bar. End of story, but not quite. (Rupert later said that only Ancient Greeks and butlers had one name, hence the gaffe. Poor Taki.)
Once we sat down, Halston was at the top table with Bosie, Steve Rubbell and Princess Margaret. I was later told that the situation was uncomfortable to say the least. Downright catastrophic would be more like it, as Halston not on coke was ludicrously polite and inane, whereas Rubbell was bored, drunk and falling asleep. He signalled to Halston for the coke and got a furious look in return. After an interminable minute or two he again made the sign and got a loud ‘Never’ back. That’s when he decided to take the bull by the you-know-what, slipped underneath the table, grabbed Halston’s leg and bit his calf hard enough to make it bleed. As Halston jumped up writhing in agony, he dumped sauce all over PM’s dress, evoking a scream of horror. Her exact words were: ‘Look what you’ve done to my best dress. You’ve ruined it.’ Gallant to a fault, Halston immediately offered ‘two of my latest originals by tomorrow morning’. ‘I will hold you to that,’ said the unselfish disinterested royal. End of story — but yet again, not quite.
Bright and early the next day Halston, carrying two of his original creations that cost thousands, got into his stretch limo, a rarity in London back then. His mistake was to ask Bianca Jagger, a Studio 54 fixture, to go along with him, thinking probably that PM might like to meet the Nicaraguan party girl. But upon pulling up at Kensington Palace, a stiff-upper-lip type told him in no uncertain terms PM was expecting only one person. So Halston fished into his pocket — no credit cards back then — threw all the cash he had la Jagger’s way and ordered his driver to take her shopping. Come back in an hour or so, he said. He was ushered in, then another stiff-upper-lip type walked up to him, extracted the beautifully wrapped dresses from his grasp, thanked him on behalf of the princess, and showed him to the door. Poor Halston had been inside KP for less than 30 seconds.
Now the rest I’m making up because there are no witnesses. The poor wretch had to walk or stand in front of KP because there was no way to reach the driver — the greatest disaster as far as peace is concerned was not yet invented — and he had no way of knowing where the profligate Bianca had gone. What he didn’t want was for her to return to KP and find out that he had been ushered out almost immediately. So he had to stand there, all dressed up with nowhere to go. The End.
When I was told the story of the bite — I was at another table — my only question was did Halston give up the coke. ‘He had to, Steve wouldn’t let go,’ said Bosie. Apparently things were hunky-dory after that. Steve and Halston lived approximately another ten years. I got along fine with Rubbell; Halston I hardly knew. Next week I’ll tell you about a brilliant play that opened in New York that brought back the period I just told you about.
Comments