This article is published in the number 4-5 of Vanity Fair on newsstands until January 31, 2023\
In the year I was born, now more than forty years ago, Madonna was engaged to Jean-Michel Basquiat. In short, I was not yet in the world and she was already teaching me which men were the best to date. The private/public life of Miss Ciccone, always perfectly coherent with the Madonna character, is a kind of compendium of universal, free, total, carnal love: since when, adoring and stupendous, sacred and very profane, she knelt in front of a crucifix ( the sexiest thing, as she liked to say, because she has a naked man on the front) until icy and Nordic she explained to us lost girls that when there is nothing left to try, to hide, the only thing is to experience the power of ‘goodbye. And, let it be recorded, when Basquiat, after her breakup, took back the paintings he had given her, he painted them black, while after her death she financed a retrospective of her works at the Whitney Museum in New York. York. Chapeau, divine.
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Source: Vanity Fair
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