Paige Powell: if Warhol had a wife, it would have been the quirky associate publisher of interview, a favorite date and a power behind the scenes

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Born and bred in Portland, Oregon, Paige Powell came into Andy Warhol's life in the early '80s when she moved to New York and was hired as an advertising associate at Interview. Very quickly, Powell shot up the ranks to become associate publisher. But, more importantly, she also became one of Warhol's closest companions. It is said that Warhol often spent more time in Powell's office at the Factory than in his own. Her combination of brains and beauty, along with her outgoing personality and razor-sharp fashion sense, also made her the perfect date for Warhol, and they attended all manner of dinner parties, gallery openings, fashion shows, and movie premieres together on an almost nightly basis.

GLENN O'BRIEN: What did you learn from Andy?

PAIGE POWELL: Well, the story I like to tell is the one about the orange juice. It was a Saturday afternoon at the studio--you know, Andy liked to work seven days a week.

GO: This was on 33rd Street?

PP: This one was on 33rd Street. There was a Korean dell on Madison. So it was a hot day, and I said, "Boy, I feel like some orange juice." And Andy said, "Yeah, that sounds really good. Let's have some orange juice." So he goes, "Here's some money. Why don't you go across the street and get the oranges?" I said, "No, Andy. It's okay. It's my treat." He pulled some money out of his pocket. I said, "No, Andy. I've got it." So I went across the street, and I got a bag of oranges. I came back and I started going into the kitchen to make orange juice, and Andy said, "Hey, where are you going?" And I said, "I'm going to make the orange juice." He said, "Well, where's the receipt?" And I said, 'Andy, I got the oranges with my money. I didn't get a receipt. That's ridiculous." And then he goes, "Yeah, you always have to get a receipt." I said "Why? I mean, you can't write off oranges." Then he goes, "Yes, I can. First, I'll take a picture, and then we'll squeeze the oranges." And it was basically the still life that would make it a write-off. So that was it.

GO: Did he take a picture of the oranges?

PP: He did, yeah.

GO: Did he ever do anything with it?

PP: I doubt it. I've never seen anything. But it didn't have to be a painting for him to be able to write it off--it could just be the photograph or a Polaroid.

GO: Were you around when he would put stuff in the time capsules?

PP: He used to throw stuff in them like a garbage can.

GO: I guess they've had some incidents. They called Benjamin Liu once because his handwriting was on a box, and it was totally infested. Andy had put some pizza dough in there, so there were thousands of bugs.

PP: I remember someone put a yogurt popsicle in one of the capsules once.

GO: You were Andy's date a lot of times. What kind of date was he?

PP: He was a good date. He was better than most straight guys as a date. We would go to a lot of black-tie affairs. We'd go from work, so we'd leave late, like around 7:30 P.M. They were always formal, so sometimes, if Andy had his white tennis shoes on, he would just paint them black before we went out the door.

GO: Did you keep a change of clothes at work?

PP: I had to. I lived uptown--near Andy, actually--so I would always have something at the office that I could switch into. A lot of designers gave me really cool stuff when they stopped by the office.

GO: What was it about you that made you the person who Andy wanted to go out with night after night? I mean, aside from--

PP: My Catholic family?

GO: Aside from your beauty and intelligence.

PP: He liked those Catholic girls. You know, my father's side is Protestant, but Andy saw the Catholic, maternal side of me. I just think that a lot of it, too, is that he loved to mix business, pleasure, and everything together. I introduced him to a lot of different people, like all the dancers at New York City Ballet or these corporate people. For example, there was this condom company out of the Midwest. This was in 1984 or 1985, and no one would run condom ads--not even Cosmopolitan, a magazine that made their money off selling sex. I found out about it and called them and said, "You know what? We'll run your ad. Why don't you come in and have lunch, because maybe you might want to commission Andy to do a painting of a condom." They said, "That is really something. Yeah, maybe we could do that!" So I said, 'Andy, do you want to have lunch with these people? They have this really large condom company. They have this thing called the Double Dipper." Andy goes, "Oh, yeah, let's have lunch with them!" So they came to lunch, and I said, "We'll run your ad in Interview magazine." They said, "Oh, we can't believe it it! No one will run it!" I said, 'Andy's interested in doing this condom painting, but you need to show him what's so special about these condoms." So after lunch, these two really big, corn-fed guys pull out a bag of condoms and show them to Andy. He looks at these guys and asks, "You can use one twice?" And one guy leaned across the table and said, "If you're man enough." [both laugh] Andy just started turning red. He kind of sunk into his chair. And then they left, and Fred Hughes came into the room and said, 'Absolutely not! Andy is not painting those condom paintings!" He just raged.