Author: Taki Theodoracopulos

NEW YORK—The only thing worse than a sore loser, I suppose, is a sore winner, but thank God we don’t run into too many of those. Thirty years ago The Spectator and I lost a libel case that cost the then proprietor and yours truly a small fortune, and as it turned out after the plaintiff had gone to that sauna-like place below, everything that I had written was the truth and nothing but. (The hubby of the woman who sued me came clean after her death, but a lot of good that did the Speccie and myself.) The sainted … Continue reading →

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Americans have been to the polls. Everything is over but the shouting — by the loser, that is honest Hil. I predicted that the best Trump could have hoped for was winning the popular vote but losing the Electoral College but I got it wrong: the Donald has triumphed. An underfunded campaign — he spent barely half of what she did — with a skeletal crew and without the party’s full backing won out because not all of America agrees with the values of Jay-Z, Beyoncé, Springsteen, Hollywood in general and gay marriage in particular. Trump appealed to those who … Continue reading →

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Antonio Cromartie is one of the numerous professional and amateur athletes in America who now refuse to stand during the playing of the national anthem. Cromartie plays for the Indianapolis Colts and makes over 10 million greenbacks per annum. He refuses to stand as a protest of white America’s oppression of black America. (The refusal to stand was started by another black football player who makes even more money and who was adopted and lovingly brought up by a white couple.) Cromartie, you see, is the father of twelve children by eight women. He has been chased around by various … Continue reading →

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This is a good time to be in Manhattan. The weather’s perfect, the park and foliage are still green, and daylight saving time keeps the days long. New York used to be able to build these beautiful cities-within-a-city, like Rockefeller Center, but that’s all in the past. The developers got to the politicians and now have free reign. The city had an opportunity after 9/11 to make a 21st-century Rockefeller Center downtown, but a shark by the name of Silverstein preferred profit to architectural achievement, as did another horror, Aby Rosen, who is busy turning uptown ugly. I’ve been walking … Continue reading →

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Although my birthday was in August, I chose a rather autumnal melancholy moment of September to celebrate it—mourn it, rather. There are no ifs or buts about it, turning 80 is like that final beautiful gleam of light just before you lose consciousness during a boxing bout. The beauty of adolescence is that one doesn’t know why one’s angry or unhappy. The tragedy of old age is that one does know. I was a lucky young man. I was often angry but hardly ever unhappy. That is why The Catcher in the Rye was my favorite book, along with Tender … Continue reading →

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Sicily – Under the watchful eye of Mount Etna the storied past of the island lies parched and yellowish, but as one gets nearer to the fiery growling giant the air turns cool, the sun glistening against a black volcanic rock. Sicily is of two minds. Orange groves and beaches galore, then dank forests and possible lava flows. Sicily’s history resembles the landscape: Peaceful and religious, violent and vengeful. I first sailed to Taormina back in the Sixties, visited the ancient Greek amphitheater, and listened to Dvorak’s New World Symphony while breathing in the smells of history. It was an … Continue reading →

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GSTAAD—“He’d fly through the air with the greatest of ease, that daring young man on the flying trapeze.” As everyone knows, life’s unfair, but this is ridiculous. An American daredevil falls out of an airplane at 25,000 feet without a parachute and manages to land on a postage-stamp-size net without a scratch. The poor little Greek boy falls off a balcony ten to fifteen feet high, lands on gravel, and breaks many bones in his body. Being encased in plaster is similar to living under a strict dictatorship—North Korea, for example. There’s no crime, no muggings, but as far as … Continue reading →

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The two most beautiful words in the history of the world, and in any language, are “Molon Labe,” the accent on the second syllable of both words, the b pronounced v in the second. These two little words were the laconic response by King Leonidas of Sparta to the offer by the great Persian king Xerxes of not only safe passage if they lay down their arms, but also a settlement of lands of better quality than any they had possessed up to that time. You know what I’m talking about. The Hot Gates, or Thermopylae, in Greek. The year … Continue reading →

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I always thought the Freuds a pretty sordid bunch, and after the latest revelations, it seems I wasn’t far off. I first met Clement Freud when John Aspinall employed him as an adviser for food and wine. He was lugubrious and aggressive, and none of us punters liked him one bit. He was not a gambler but talked as if he were a big one. While crossing the Atlantic on board the QE2 back in 1974, he tried to play the tough guy with me over—yes, you guessed it—a lady, but it didn’t work. But there’s no use giving him … Continue reading →

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Write about things you really know, was the advice Papa Hemingway offered wannabe writers, so here goes: The French Open is still on, Wimbledon is coming up, and I’ve just read a lament by some Frenchwoman about how professional tennis and big-time sports have become ever more ubiquitous and ever more out of reach. Duh! A former model by the name of Géraldine Maillet has made a documentary about the 2015 French Open, not exactly a stop-the-presses kind of story as it hit the video shops just as the 2016 Open began. The French Championships, as they were back then … Continue reading →

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Let’s face it, sleaze is to professional party-givers what jail is to burglars: an occupational hazard. I’ve been reading about parties in Cannes, described in glowing terms by stars-in-their-eyes hacks who should, but do not, know better. Well, dear readers of Taki’s Magazine, I’m afraid I’ve been there and done it all and believe you me, “squalor” is the operative word. Obscene publicity-seekers posing as role models, sartorial decay, and a chronic inability to keep their clothes on is the order of the day. Cannes used to be fun, during the ’50s. Eden Roc, the restaurant and swimming pool of … Continue reading →

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New York—I have never seen anything like it. If Adolf Hitler were running, he would match Donald Trump’s negative coverage. If Benito were in the race, his notices would be far more favorable. Once The Donald became the last man standing, some NY Times columnists became unhinged. One hysterical woman pundit accused Trump of…not having any money. The one I liked best was a colleague of hers who is usually unreadable because of his wordy and flat prose. That particular fool had declared that the word “Trump” would never appear in his column. Once Donny baby wiped the floor with … Continue reading →

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New York—It was the best of times—downtown—and the worst of times—uptown. Let’s start with the horror near the park: Cranial atrophy, unrelenting grossness, overarched and overgrown eyebrows, posterior-baring bondage outfits, and de haut en bas attitudes were the order of the night. Never has a museum site been more desecrated by a freak show, and the Met—maybe the best museum in the whole wide world—should be ashamed of itself. A great institution such as the Met always needs funds but allowing a freak show of publicity-starved clowns is not the answer. Let’s take it from the top. The Met Gala … Continue reading →

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I read this in an American newspaper (it was written by a woman who used to edit my copy for a New York glossy, but I will withhold her name to save her embarrassment and social atrophy): “He’s hosted Kim Kardashian and Kanye West for Thanksgiving, regularly cruises with Justin Bieber on his party yacht….” The mind reels. Is it possible to read such crap without throwing up? How would you, dear reader, like to spend Thanksgiving with Kim and Kanye, or go cruising with Justin? Heaven helps us. (I’d rather fail a syphilis test than have a Kardashian as … Continue reading →

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New York—Harvey Keitel, the actor, rang up to invite me to a Marine shindig where General Petraeus would be the guest speaker. The venue was Carnegie Hall, and I arrived late, having had a tough session at the karate dojo. I was also very dehydrated. Next to me was a beautiful young woman by the name of Aimee, who introduced me to her fiancé, a familiar-looking young man with a friendly manner. I looked at his place card and it read “Rupert Friend.” Nothing. Finally, I asked him whether we knew each other. We did not. Still, the guy looked … Continue reading →

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