When I Escaped Mohamed al-Fayed

A fun story from another life

The year was 1976 and I was working at Sotheby’s as their Middle Eastern lady, promoting them across that region. That year, the auction house was in the process of preparing their first ever (if I remember correctly) country sale with the contents of Mentmore Towers. The property was enormous, a proper country house, with contents that filled several catalogues, one for furniture, another for paintings, another for silver and so on and the sale was due to take place the following year.

That year, I had been to the Gulf for Sotheby’s, together with Jeremy Cooper who was in charge of the Tehran office; and while in Dubai (then a tiny place, practically like a fishing village), we met with the brothers of three moghuls from the region: Mehdi al-Tajer, Adnan Kashoggi and Mohamed al-Fayed. I cannot remember exactly how we came to meet them nor who had introduced us. All I remember is finding them sitting together in a non-descript room and after a few pleasantries, us exchanging cards, saying that we would love to meet their brothers back in London. By the way, the picture above is from that trip when I was featured on the cover of a Kuwaiti magazine.

Soon after, back in London, I got a call from Mohamed al-Fayed himself inviting me to his place to discuss the Mentmore sale - his brother must have given him my number. I told Peregrine Pollen, who was then Sotheby’s vice chairman, that I would be meeting al-Fayed regarding the sale at Mentmore. We were both curious as to why he wanted to meet. I went to his place in Park lane and found out that he was interested in purchasing the whole collection privately, obviously before the sale. I explained that it wasn’t within my remit to negotiate and that I would get back to him after talking it over with the vice chairman, which I did. Peregrine was not interested and I got back to al-Fayed to explain that he didn’t stand a chance. He didn’t seem to mind much and I thought that was it.

Not long after, I got another call from al-Fayed, this time to invite me to his castle in Scotland, offering to get me there and back by helicopter. At that time, I was living with Guy, the first and last man I ever lived and he was next to me while I was on the phone. The invitation was exciting and Guy was quite open about me accepting it. However, the idea of going alone to a remote castle in Scotland as the guest of two single brothers did not appeal to me much and I declined — al-Fayed was little known then and there was no talk of him being a predator. Nevertheless, I was aware of this kind of danger despite my very young age - I was 24 then.

However, this was not the end. A week or two later al-Fayed called again, this time wanting me to redecorate his brother’s flat in Park Lane. It wasn’t an uninteresting proposition but after I walked into the main bedroom and found that it was painted a dark purple, with a round bed and a mirror on the ceiling, I decided that my taste would not align with theirs and I declined.

None of these interactions led me to worry much about visiting al-Fayed. So, when he called to say he was going to be in Paris while I was there and wanted to visit my antiques shop (picture below), I was thrilled. I had a vision of him walking in and sweeping my whole stock as many rich Arabs would have done in those days.

But first, he wanted to meet in his suite at the Georges V - he had not yet bought the Ritz, nor Harrods for that matter. I didn’t mind and went up to see him. The drawing room was huge but he invited me to sit on the sofa next to him with Helmut Newton’s first book, White Women, on the coffee table right in front of us. The book should have given me a clue but even if it had, I didn’t have much time to react because he pounced on me as soon as I sat down, trying to kiss me. I was definitely not interested in kissing him and I pushed him away, laughing off his attempt at seduction. I just wanted him to come and buy my antiques! He never did and as an asisde, it was because of him trying to seduce me with Newton’s book as the preamble that I never accepted to let Helmut photograph me despite him asking again and again.

Funnily enough, both Newton and al-Fayed suggested that I would benefit financially from them. The first by letting him photograph me for his next book and becoming famous; and the second from getting close to him. Little did they know that I was a committed feminist, absolutely intent at protecting my independence, both financial and otherwise.

Anyhow, this was my story with al-Fayed, which I thought I would tell you given the coverage of his predatory behaviour. Fortunately, my enocounters with him were neither creepy nor damaging. I even saw him once more later when he wanted me to help his son Dodi get into the Sotheby’s Works of Art course. By then, he had mercifully lost interest in me as a woman and just wanted my help.