MISSING FERNANDA BONINO
When our romance was very fresh Oswaldo took me to meet his stepfather, Alfredo Bonino, and Nanda, Alfredo’s second wife. The year was 1978 and when Oswaldo and I had met in Ithaca N.Y, he had no idea about my family and Danish culture, just like I knew nothing about his family and roots. We drove into the NY Lower East side and parked the car in a lot on the corner of Lafayette and Great Jones. Stepping into the huge loft on 48 Great Jones was like entering an Aladdin’s cave hung with huge paintings, objects on every surface, and tall sculptures touching the ceiling.
| First impression of apartment |
| by Mary Bauermeister - one of many stunning pieces in Nanda's collection |
I did not know then that this event marked my entry into a very different world, where Oswaldo and I would move to Brazil and continue our life together there. Nanda and Alfredo did everything they could to make me feel comfortable, and our stay with them included a New Year’s Eve trip to a crazy nightclub called Infinity, where I saw a naked lady with a big hat and stockings painted on her bare legs, and a wedding held at Harry Belafonte’s Upper West Side apartment, not to mention dancing the tango with Alfredo.
Nanda was used to letting Alfredo shine. He was the genius, and she was the motor that would make everything function. In truth, she was the real powerhouse. Her ability to create and maintain several highly successful galleries is well known, but I watched her run her houses and entertain large and small groups with supreme competence, from the loft to their beautiful property in Angra, where she commanded a different setting, managing a rustic household with a small kitchen, bottled gas, and a generator, making everything work and her many guests utterly comfortable.
| Tanguazinho beach in the 70s |
Alfredo left us early in 1981 and in the years that followed I’d try to visit Nanda whenever I could. 48 Great Jones was the address I’d put in my ESTA application, and I knew her phone number by heart. We’d spend evenings together chatting about our memories, going through her immense wardrobe, trying on her scarlet Dior raincoat and fabulous Italian designer wear. We even weathered the hurricane Sandy blackout together.
| Oswaldo and Nanda during Sandy (2012), when we still had electricity |
Nanda was a fabulous cook and used to cook our meals. Later, when she got older, I’d cook for her. We shared a lot of wine! She was a woman of refined and very determined tastes. We could go only to a small handful of restaurants she approved of, and where she was treated with reverence, “Welcome, Mrs. Bonino,” and her food shopping was done only in exclusive specialty stores.
Nanda and her apartment formed a beating heart. They belonged together. Without her in it, that gorgeous home seemed cool and withdrawn. It is hard to explain. It was the same with her place in Angra. They needed her there - exotic beautiful places, created by an inspiring and generous woman with an incredible eye for beauty.
Today the apartment is silent and empty, for Nanda left us on March 11 when she died in her sleep. She had braved 2 years’ pandemic seclusion, bolstered by two trusted assistants, and a fiercely loyal group of friends, along with video calls to her distant family. At 95 much-lived years she was in wheelchair and her eyesight was failing and her carefree days were over.
I never got to say good-bye and thank her for all she did. For how wonderful she was to my son. It is a small price to pay for knowing that my old friend could meet her end in peace in the exquisite home she had created.
Rest in peace, Nanda
Beautifully written, Siri! A fitting eulogy.
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