My sophomore year of high school brought to the airwaves a new series, full of inspiration but all too brief. Andy Warhol's Fifteen Minutes aired on MTV for five or six episodes in 1987, at least one posthumously, as Warhol passed away in February of that year. Full of short-attention-span vignettes, the show offered peeks into the New York City art scene that I so very much craved to be a part of. Kenny Scharf, Keith Haring, Tama Janowitz, etc. All the cool hip kids were represented, and of course the man himself. It was bright and colorful and endless amounts of exhilarating fun. Performance artists, dancers, musicians. A car painted throughout the inside and filled with toys! For years I wanted to do that with one of my cars. People wore Doc Martens and mini dresses, and talked about ART. It was awesome.
One favorite moment was from a young up and coming designer named Marc Jacobs. He was adorable with long flowing hair and showed off pieces that were whimsical and genius. I've had a crush on him ever since; that cute boy perched atop a ladder.
This show was best part of a time where I was as socially awkward as they come and quite a misfit wandering the halls of my high school. When Andy Warhol died I wanted to wear black but didn't really have any (not allowed). So I went to the home-ec classroom (why did I never take a class in there?) and borrowed enough black fabric to make an armband. For that day I wore that and toted around a can of Campbell's chicken noodle soup, with "Andy Warhol 1928-1987" written on top. At the time I was internally despondent. By learning more about the world that I saw on MTV, I thought I finally found the world I was destined to join. I had the notion that Warhol was the glue that held that world together, and with him gone I figured the world would go away. It didn't of course, and even the show went on without him. So though it only lasted a few months, it was enough to have an impact on a young girl who needed to belong to something.