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And so in 1959, she moved into Ford’s Upper East Side townhouse. “I wasn’t the type to date photographers and that sort of thing.

I was serious, I think,because my family had lost everything.

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One day, she was walking through Central Park when she met the art dealer Paula Cooper, who had children around the same age.

The two women became friends, and Anka started buying pieces by some of the minimalist and conceptualist artists that Cooper, the very firstgallerist in So Ho, was famously championing.

Some feel deeply personal, such as a Kris Martin “self-portrait”—a white wooden shelf with a key on its side that, when turned, plays a twinkling music-box version of “My Way.” Paul Anka wrote the song for Sinatra, adapting it from a popular French tune whose lyrics Anne had translated for him.

It almost goes without saying that much has changed since Anka made her first forays into the art market.

In 1960, while in Puerto Rico for a shoot, she met Paul Anka, who was amazed to learn that the golden-haired creature who had caused such a sensation on the beach was of Lebanese extraction, just like he was. “The nuns would not allow us to listen to Elvis Presley—and I was so madly in love with Elvis—because he was too suggestive.

But Paul’s musicthey allowed, so I knew all his songs.” They began a relationship back in New York, to the chagrin of Ford, who was wary of show business and protective of her charge. He’d come to the house, and Eileen would say, ‘Keep him waiting!The two started going to galleries, and Anka fell hard for the new generation of abstract painters.Her taste for large-scale, vividly colored, often dense and frenetic canvases surprised Schiff for its boldness.On the living room floor of Anne Anka’s West Hollywood house, half-hiddenbehind a 19th-century marble-top commode,is a photograph by Slim Aarons.In it, a fresh-faced, glamorous blondein a crisp button-down shirt leansagainst the hood of a Mercedes-Benz parked outside thepristine white fence of the Pebble Beach Equestrian Center, while young girls in riding caps and their ponies gather around her.“I was sent to a finishing school instead, which to me was a disaster,” she says. My parents had moved to Paris, and I called them and said, ‘I can’t stand this place.

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