Casey Johnson
Casey Johnson died today. I doubt most people know who that is. She was a wealthy socialite, heir to the Johnson & Johnson fortune, and part of the Paris Hilton crew. She was also a good friend of mine in 10th grade when we both went to private schools in New York City.
We lost touch by the end of high school, but for awhile there we prank called boys together, went on family vacations and spent hours at the fragrance counter of a department store where we sprayed different sections of our arms with perfume to find our signature scents (she settled on Chanel Cristalle, I went with L’Eau D’Issey, which I’ve been wearing ever since).
She was the wealthiest person I’ve ever know. Even her cotton T-shirts were from Chanel, she had Michael Douglas and Jonny Carson’s phone numbers in her address book, and when I asked her if she’d give me a tour of her apartment, she said, “Which part?”
But she was a nice, laid back kid. She had juvenile diabetes, which she took in stride. She had an easy laugh. She was self-deprecating.
I haven’t kept up with her in the last 15 years. Googling her just now, I learned that she was arrested for grand theft, she adopted a baby from Kazakhstan in 2007 but hasn’t been around much to take care of her, she was engaged to Tila Tequila, and her parents cut her off financially because she wouldn’t stay in rehab.
Needless to say, celebrity gossip sites like Perez Hilton, The Frisky and Gawker have had a field day with her. And she seems so totally different than the girl I knew in 10th grade, I almost don’t feel authorized to write anything about her. But there’s something that stands out in my memory.
Casey took a photography class the summer before we met, when she was 15. In it, she took a series of nude black and white portraits of herself. They were beautiful. It’s a shame she didn’t stick with photography. When I told her I liked them, she mentioned that her dad liked them too, and shocked, I said, “You showed naked pictures of yourself to your dad?!” I couldn’t believe she took naked pictures of herself to begin with.
But she felt she had nothing to be ashamed of. “It’s art,” she said. It’s amazing that she understood that at such a young age. When I write something potentially embarrassing, I think back on her portraits. I use that 15 year-old’s boldness as inspiration. And even though I haven’t known Casey for years, it makes me glad that I knew her for a little while.
