I was sent up to Willi’s West 38th Street showroom with the photographs. It was coincidence or perhaps kismet, but we both got into the elevator at the same time. When I told him I had photos of him from Kim, he invited me into his office while he looked at them. I just remember being taken in by Willi’s grace and graciousness as we chatted away about me being a born and bred New Yorker and, of course, my working for Kim. It was as though I met someone famous that had no pretense of fame. I was a kid barely out of the School of Visual Arts but was treated as a peer. I think my being gay certainly helped. He said, “Come back in a couple of weeks and pick out a few things—just ring the office so I know you’re coming.” Imagine what that would feel like to a young, fresh-out-of-college, overworked photo studio manager!

From 1982 until his death, I was dressed head-to-toe in WilliWear. Willi allowed me to raid the warehouse twice a year, which kept me well dressed for over five years. From our first conversation, Willi set the foundation of our friendship on dignity and respect. I was very fortunate to have him in my life. His generous spirit was already deeply connected to others in my life whom I too loved and respected—Jorge Socarras, Kim Steele, Maryanne Levesque, Oliver Johnston, the list goes on. From the minute we met, I wished I had grown up with him to always have him in my life.