NOISES OFF

Letters

Lizzy Tizzy

I believe I counted nine individual credits related to the cover photo of Elizabeth Taylor on the November issue. Nowhere could I find a credit for the condom which she was displaying in this remarkable and very beautiful photograph.

W. ROBERT FOREMAN Wickford, Rhode Island

I knew from the cover your editorial slant would be to promote condoms as a means of preventing AIDS. People are dying of AIDS because magazines like yours do not have the courage to promote abstinence.

SANDY BALES Wichita, Kansas

Riddles of the Scrolls

As the "Oxford Scroll mandarin' ' in Ron Rosenbaum's article ["Riddle of the Scrolls,'' November], I would like to congratulate him on a brilliant piece of imaginative writing. But I also have a comment to make. Mr. Rosenbaum writes that Scroll scholar John Allegro, "ridiculed, went off to live in selfimposed exile on the Isle of Man.'' This sounds dramatic, but does not take into account that faced with a choice between the Isle of Man (a tax haven) and his job at Manchester University, Allegro, having made a lot of money on the serialization of his book The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross, chose the former.

GEZA VERMES Professor emeritus of Jewish studies Oxford, England

We were disappointed that there was no mention in Ron Rosenbaum's article of the fact that in the fall of 1991 our director, Dr. William A. Moffett, and the Huntington Library took a courageous stand on behalf of intellectual freedom by announcing that our photographic archive of the Scrolls would be made accessible to all qualified scholars, including those previously excluded from studying them.

PEGGY PARK BERNAL Publications director, the Huntington Library San Marino, California

Maybe the reason there is a battle over the meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls is that people are trying to read them upside down. After all, that is how you printed your photograph of them!

MERYL MANDERS Union, New Jersey

Begging to Differ

It is too bad that for your recent article on Carla Bruni ["La Dolce Carla," November], the writer, Bob Colacello, did not so much as call my office to ask for a verification of the statements made by Ms. Bruni, a young woman who seems incapable of telling the truth.

Despite her protestations to the contrary, Carla told me, in the strongest language possible, of her "three-year affair" with Mick Jagger. This was an affair, she said, where she traveled all over the world to be with him—in fact, on one occasion not too long ago, she called me incessantly from Atlanta, Georgia, where she was holed up in Mr. Jagger's hotel room. Jerry Hall is 100 percent right on Carla—unfortunately, it looks as if I'll have to be testifying to that fact.

When it comes to Donald Trump, Ms. Bruni likewise lies. Carla wanted me to break up with Marla Maples, whereupon she would leave Mick, a man she was desperately stuck on. I thought this was ridiculous.

She asked me to take care of her sister during a stay in New York and invited me to visit her at her parents' home in the South of France. Business matters precluded such a holiday even though she made it sound very exciting. I never said I would go, despite her many pleas and phone calls stating that her parents eagerly looked forward to meeting me. When it became obvious that I was not going to the South of France, she proceeded with a vendetta against me.

For her to seriously claim that she met Mick Jagger just "once" is an outrage. Likewise, it would be nice if she would tell the truth about me. Her constant calling became a total pain in the ass. She was trying to get me to leave Marla, something I had in mind anyway, and she was using every psychological trick in the book. In the end, Carla became a woman who is very difficult to even like.

DONALD J. TRUMP New York, New York

I can only assume that the main reason Carla Bruni exposed her pantie-less posterior to Helmut Newton's camera lens was to add her name to the list of 90s starlets who hope to help their careers along by displaying their nether regions. Gone are the days when a genuine screen goddess had only to sneeze to send a million hearts palpitating. Oh, well. Bottoms up!

PETER J. WALSH Bradford, England

Saf-ire

Marjorie Williams's paean to newspaper columnist William Safire ["Safire and Brimstone," November] neglected the chapter on his time in Florida. As a public-relations flack in 1966, Safire applied his talents to the successful gubernatorial candidacy of Claude Roy Kirk Jr., a clownish headline grabber who emulated George Wallace by threatening to defy federal orders to integrate schools. Safire blithely returned north, leaving us Floridians four years of pooper-scooping. His record as front man for a colorful bouquet of losers— who variously embraced Constitution wrecking, lawbreaking, and bigotry— casts considerable doubt on Safire's judgment as a journalist. When political lowlifes like these are on the make, Safire's chastity belt comes unstrapped.

HORANCEG. DAVIS JR. Gainesville, Florida

Basquiat Gavotte

I worked briefly for Jean-Michel Basquiat ["Basquiat Case," by David D'Arcy, November] as a studio assistant, canvas stretcher, and Sancho Panza (his job title for me was "White Sambo Gringo"). Basquiat's patrons knew, sometimes subconsciously, that his scrawled litanies of European dysfunction and Rastafarian demons could, for a few thousand dollars, hang in their places at the beach and publicly announce the exorcism of their white guilt. Jean-Michel taught me a few things: that it is possible to detest someone and to feel pity for him simultaneously, and that sadistic tendencies can give an artist a certain focus and clarity. His apotheosis is a pathetic phenomenon, his retrospective a canonization of a sad man by people whom he never liked, and who wouldn't like him if he were still alive.

JOHN A. SEED Hemet, California

Letters to the editor should be sent with the writer's name, address, and daytime phone number to: The Editor, Vanity Fair, 350 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10017. The letters chosen for publication may be edited for length and clarity.