Saturday, January 15

Italian Aristocracy Mourns Wayward Playboy Prince.

Apparently Prince Ruspoli is dead, a part-time actor, hedonist, orientalist and Dolce Vita denizen. As some of my older readers may remember, a (though perhaps not the) Prince Ruspoli and his feverishly imaginative brother feature in one of my more uproarious adventures from my year in Rome, involving my accidental gate-crashing of an attempt to strike a blow against the Nefarous World Conspiracy of Masonry. Presuming this is the same fellow, I'm amazed at his life story, that such a...gangly old fellow given to frequenting crankish traditionalist political rallies could also have been the same aristocrat in his prime who hung out with Brigitte Bardot, the Rolling Stones and Picasso, and also had a pet raven. I can't state for sure if this is the same person, actually, as I don't know if everyone in an Italian princely family gets to be called Prince or just the oldest guy. If it is, well, I suppose truth is stranger than fiction, and if not, well, every good fiction has an evil twin in it somewhere...

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?