EDITOR'S LETTER

THE SURREAL THING

Sometimes a magazine is in the thrilling position of making history. This month's Vanity Fair carries some extraordinary, almost shocking photographs that will surely be reproduced in books and exhibitions for years to come.

Eighty-two-year-old Salvador Dali has not been seen, except in paparazzi shots, for several years. Since he set fire to his bedroom in the castle at Pubol, he has been hidden from view. Most people have assumed he is senile or comatose, particularly since the macabre snap in Paris Match showing him prone and attached to tubes.

A sight of the old wizard in his final years has long been an obsession of mine: how does the master of visual surprise confront the evidence of his own decay? Dali, one feels, would never go gentle into that good night. For six months V.F.'s special-projects editor, Reinaldo Herrera, negotiated with his friends in the Spanish art world to get us an exclusive interview with Dali at home in Figueras, the Catalan town where he was born and where he has now returned to die. This was finally granted in August, and the V.F. team went into action.

Obviously the writer had to be someone with whom Dali already felt comfortable. Robert Wemick fitted the bill. A first-rate descriptive writer specializing in art, he has known Dali since 1970, when the bartender at Dali's old Paris hangout, the Hotel Meurice, introduced them. Subsequently Wernick crossed the Atlantic several times on the S.S. France with Dali and his wife, Gala.

It seemed to me there could be only one choice for photographer. Helmut Newton. His witty, daredevil, kinky, hyperrealistic eye was bound to appeal to Dali. It would be a marriage made in heaven. And, sure enough, Dali got so excited at the prospect he had a special white satin gown made. How successful the sitting was can be determined only by taking a deep breath and turning to page 82. Together they collaborated in producing something fiercely memorable. "One must never conceal the truth," Dali said proudly, showing the world how he looks today and challenging us to print it. November V.F. also unveils the newest Dali drawings and a never-before-seen photograph of the bedroom after the fire that nearly killed him. Helmut Newton gives his own brief account of the historic sitting on page 16. Just as it is exciting when a famous talent like Newton comes through with his best work, it is also exciting when a young, untried photographer achieves excellence for our pages. When we heard that the creators of the hit show Tango Argentino were bringing a knockout flamenco production to New York this fall, we searched for a photographer who could capture their fire with heart-pounding passion. The photographer we found is a twenty-fouryear-old Cuban, Jose Arman-Pita, whose portfolio suggested that it would be worth the risk to send him to Seville. When he brought in the results, the whole V.F. picture department jumped on their desks and danced a wild zapateado. You can see why on page 100.

With all this drama it is nice to know that Bianca Jagger's life has calmed down. We did not need her stamping around the stage clacking her castanets as well. In fact, as Bob Colacello reports in his intimate and sympathetic cover story (page 94), she has matured into an interesting, influential woman about New York. And getting serious has not meant she has lost any of her style. Lest we forget that, our style reporter, Andre Leon Talley, rifled through her made-toorder Louis Vuittons to discover the elements of a look that still turns heads.

Once in a while I meet someone who intrigues me enough to want to write about them myself. Gayfryd Steinberg, the fascinating wife of takeover king Saul Steinberg, looks on the surface like an Aaron Spelling creation, beautiful, fashionable, super-rich. But she has qualities which, when allied to her husband's staggering wealth, are making her into a new power in New York. Of all the new blood in society infused,by the new-money games, Mrs. Steinberg is the one I'm betting on (page 106).

All this and part two of Barbara Goldsmith's excoriating psychodrama about the Johnson and Johnson will contest. So November Vanity Fair is full of passions and pleasures.

Hasta la vista!

Editor in chief