If She Wasn't Already, You Know, Dead

New York magazine probes Olivia Goldsmith's fatal plastic surgery, going to some lengths (I thought, anyway) to portray her as nutty (which is to say, slightly more crazy than eccentric and not in a good way). Mind you, I don't imagine there's really many other spins you can put on a woman who stopped talking to her editor because he suggested taking a "grotesque" sex scene out of the manuscript, then sent him a package of candy hearts on which she'd carefully written fuck-yous.

Gotta love this bit from her neighbor:

"She was somebody who had a difficult time growing old. She definitely didn’t tell her age. Maybe this was the way she needed to go, because I don’t think she would have dealt well with old age. She would have died when the London Telegraph called her 'plump’ " in an obituary.

Another friend seems to have a fairly realistic take on Goldsmith's so-called addiction to plastic surgery: "Who the hell wants to look old?... I don’t think Olivia was any different from any of us." Except for the discretionary income, that is. You can afford a whole lot of crazy for what she made with The First Wives Club, I'd imagine.