I wish Brownie McLean, who died at age 101 on Jan. 9, could be here to hear the many stories people are telling about her and her many escapades, including a few that I might add.

She may have been a Palm Beach social icon, but I knew her as a friend who just happened to be a client.

Our friendship dated from way back, when her brother-in-law, the late Neddy McLean, introduced us, the thought being that I might become her decorator.

She and her second husband, the late Jock McLean, called me for an appointment so that I could see their Fifth Avenue maisonnette in New York City. Brownie wanted to eliminate the kitchen from the apartment and turn it into a guest room.

Suffice it to say that Brownie never cooked and really didn’t need a stove or any other cooker. She informed me that Stark’s restaurant on 77th Street and Madison Avenue would deliver any request. And as she wished, the kitchen did indeed become a second room for dozing, although I did make sure it had a hot plate.

I met her that first day in the early morning. She greeted me dressed in a lavender peignoir, the color of her bedroom. Jock was still in bed when we chatted. Wow, I thought, this is quite the special lady — carefree, happy and adventurous.

I recall our first decorating adventure involved making small lavender shades for the bedroom chandelier. I went on to assist her as a consultant on her April in Paris balls at the Waldorf Astoria and for other charity events of which she took charge.

Our last adventure in decorating was a meeting in Lewisburg, W.Va., the town where she was born. Her Minnie Manor Bed and Breakfast on the main street of town needed work, and lots of it. The town is just down the road from The Greenbrier resort, where she and I would meet on occasion, along with her friends who stayed at the resort.

Brownie was always wonderful company at any event or table. When one wanted to make certain a party was a success, wherever it was, Brownie needed to be there. Her arrival always drew attention — the blonde hair, the dark glasses — and she never disappointed with her sparkling wit and her enthusiasm for life, for beauty, for the best of everything.

I wish Brownie McLean, who died at age 101 on Jan. 9, could be here to hear the many stories people are telling about her and her many escapades, including a few that I might add.

She may have been a Palm Beach social icon, but I knew her as a friend who just happened to be a client.

Our friendship dated from way back, when her brother-in-law, the late Neddy McLean, introduced us, the thought being that I might become her decorator.

She and her second husband, the late Jock McLean, called me for an appointment so that I could see their Fifth Avenue maisonnette in New York City. Brownie wanted to eliminate the kitchen from the apartment and turn it into a guest room.

Suffice it to say that Brownie never cooked and really didn’t need a stove or any other cooker. She informed me that Stark’s restaurant on 77th Street and Madison Avenue would deliver any request. And as she wished, the kitchen did indeed become a second room for dozing, although I did make sure it had a hot plate.

I met her that first day in the early morning. She greeted me dressed in a lavender peignoir, the color of her bedroom. Jock was still in bed when we chatted. Wow, I thought, this is quite the special lady — carefree, happy and adventurous.

I recall our first decorating adventure involved making small lavender shades for the bedroom chandelier. I went on to assist her as a consultant on her April in Paris balls at the Waldorf Astoria and for other charity events of which she took charge.

Our last adventure in decorating was a meeting in Lewisburg, W.Va., the town where she was born. Her Minnie Manor Bed and Breakfast on the main street of town needed work, and lots of it. The town is just down the road from The Greenbrier resort, where she and I would meet on occasion, along with her friends who stayed at the resort.

Brownie was always wonderful company at any event or table. When one wanted to make certain a party was a success, wherever it was, Brownie needed to be there. Her arrival always drew attention — the blonde hair, the dark glasses — and she never disappointed with her sparkling wit and her enthusiasm for life, for beauty, for the best of everything.

To Brownie, I send a thank you for decorating our lives. I shall always remember her telling me: “In Palm Beach, I am the oldest of the younger set and the youngest of the older set.”

I will certainly miss her.

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