Liz Renay
April 14, 1926 – January 22, 2007
I never got the chance to meet Liz Renay. I am not terribly familiar with her oeuvre. I have never been able to finish My First 2,000 Men (you know what I mean), much less her other monographs. Most of the world will probably remember her–if they remember her at all–as an actress who screwed her way to the middle.
However, for me and many of my boy-kissing brethren, Liz Renay will always be known as Muffy St. Jacques–the most glamorous woman in Mortville!–from John Waters’ masterpiece Desperate Living. I don’t know if Liz accepted that role because of actor-driven egomania, Waters’ considerable persuasive abilities, or her own desperate living situation, but who cares? Armed with a few dozen lines and a stupendous, spotlit rack, she strutted and shimmied her way into the celluloid heavens.
I was surprised and saddened (surprisingly so) to hear of her death this past Monday, and I feel some sort of tribute is in order. I’ve thought long and hard about my Mardi Gras costume, debating geisha vs. Ganesh, skirt vs. leggings, purse vs. pockets, parasol vs. nothing at all–but now I’m leaning toward something much, much simpler, in Liz’s honor. I’m not committing to anything yet, but don’t be surprised if on Fat Tuesday you see someone who looks a lot like me stumbling down Royal Street in a platinum wig, patent leather pumps, and hose pulled up to my armpits–belted at the waist–screaming “I sleep in the room next to you! Naked!“
[obituary notice dutifully provided by jonno]
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