The world's greatest dandy, Sebastian Horsley, has died.
Sebastian Horsley, writer, artist, notorious Soho dandy and one of my all-time heroes, has died this morning aged 47. He was found in his flat on Meard Street, Soho, having suffered a heroin overdose, according to sources close to him.
The news comes two days after the opening of Dandy in the Underworld, a play about Sebastian's life starring Milo Twomey at the Soho Theatre. Sebastian held a party at Quintessentially in Soho, attended by all of his friends. Apparently he was looking “off-colour” even then. I was unable to attend, a fact I now miserably regret.
I interviewed Sebastian a couple of weeks before the play opened and, in retrospect, the subject of death seemed to be at the forefront of his mind: “It's just a joke, life,” he'd said. “It's a whole joke.” He talked at length about how seeing Twomey wearing his clothes and aping his mannerisms was akin to meeting his dopplegänger. “Your doppelgänger,” he said, “is the person you're supposed to meet before you die, so I got quite excited about that. I got my coat on and everything.”
In email correspondence I had with Sebastian back in April he joked that he had cancer and declared, “I have been trying for sometime to develop a lifestyle that doesn’t require my presence. It seems I have finally been successful.”
In a sense then, Sebastian's timing couldn't have been much better. And yet of course it's a terrible tragedy for those that knew him, loved him, and felt the world a more exciting, rich and worthwhile place merely for his presence in it. For, as well as the public persona, the man who swam with sharks, slept with a thousand prostitutes and crucified himself in the Philippines was also incredibly sweet and caring. Sebastian will be forever missed – he was an inspiration.
Read my interview with Sebastian Horsley.
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