{"id":44319,"date":"2020-01-08T21:29:39","date_gmt":"2020-01-09T02:29:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.wendybrandes.com\/blog\/?p=44319"},"modified":"2020-01-13T21:23:37","modified_gmt":"2020-01-14T02:23:37","slug":"rip-elizabeth-wurtzel","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.wendybrandes.com\/blog\/2020\/01\/rip-elizabeth-wurtzel\/","title":{"rendered":"RIP, Elizabeth Wurtzel"},"content":{"rendered":"

Writer Elizabeth Wurtzel<\/a> died yesterday at age 52 of leptomeningeal disease<\/a> — a complication of metastatic breast cancer that had spread to the fluid around the brain and spinal cord.<\/p>\n

\"\"

Elizabeth Wurtzel, New Year’s Eve, 2010. Photo by Wendy Brandes.<\/p><\/div><\/center><\/p>\n

I met Elizabeth on Wednesday, May 27, 2009. I know the exact date because we were at a black-tie dinner at the Metropolitan Museum of Art<\/a>. At the end of the evening, I was too shy to approach the instantly recognizable author of Prozac Nation<\/em> by myself, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity either. So I grabbed MrB by the back of his tuxedo jacket; stage-whispered, “Tell her you’re an important journalist”; and propelled him over to her. I peeked out from behind him once the ice was broken, and she and I struck up an unlikely, on-and-off-and-on friendship independent of MrB.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth was intelligent, funny, generous, and loyal, but she was also provocative, boastful, and contrarian. She was miserable about minor life issues and stoic about major ones. “I have always been the most impossible person ever,” she wrote in a 2018 essay in the Guardian.<\/a> That was the piece in which she announced that the BRCA-gene-linked breast cancer she’d been diagnosed with in 2015<\/a> had advanced to Stage 4. She wrote:<\/p>\n

“I hate it when people say that they are sorry about my cancer. Really? Have they met me? I am not someone that you feel sorry for.”<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

She went on to say:<\/p>\n

“I love to argue. I am in it for the headache. I don\u2019t need you to be on my side \u2013 I\u2019m on my side. Everyone is entitled to my opinion. I love being controversial, because that\u2019s the closest you get to everyone agreeing with you \u2013 the other choice is no one is paying attention.”<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

In contrast, debate isn’t my sport. I think the devil has enough advocates. When I express a strong point of view, it’s because I believe in it. I might be persuaded to change my mind, but I never take a position merely to get a reaction. The fact that I stayed in touch with Elizabeth (Lizzie to her other friends<\/a>) for 10 years is a tribute to her charisma and persistence, because there were times I was ready to pull out my hair after an evening with her. She was unpredictable. She could be silly and fun in a show-off-y way: When former news anchor Tom Brokaw invited questions after a documentary screening about “American characters,” she was the first person to put up her hand, only to ask, “Is the farmer single?”<\/a> More frequent — and frustrating to me — were the occasions where I’d finally be convinced by an aspect of a passionate argument she made on, say, the criminal-justice system, only for her to immediately switch sides and debate her previous stance with herself.<\/p>\n

But Elizabeth was also an animal lover who sent me white roses<\/a> when Purrkoy, my four-year-old cat, died of a stroke<\/a>. She championed my jewelry line to everyone she introduced me to in person — as well as on social media<\/a> — and liked to request special projects. I’d stopped making my Cleopatra earrings in silver, for instance, but I made one more pair for her, which she then wore every time she saw me — no exceptions. “You don’t have to wear those every time I see you,” I’d say. “I wear them every day,” she’d claim. “Take a picture for Instagram.”<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n
<\/p>\n
\n
<\/div>\n
\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/path><\/g><\/g><\/g><\/svg><\/div>\n
\n
View this post on Instagram<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\n
\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/a> <\/p>\n

Author @elizabethwurtzel wearing my Cleopatra earrings in silver. They\u2019re available in gold at @1stdibs … Elizabeth got the last silver pair! Read Elizabeth\u2019s story about discovering the truth about her parents here https:\/\/www.thecut.com\/2018\/12\/elizabeth-wurtzel-on-discovering-the-truth-about-her-parents.html<\/a><\/p>\n

A post shared by Wendy Brandes<\/a> (@wendybrandes) on