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The author recounts her first meeting with Andy Warhol at age sixteen, a culmination of a long-held, almost obsessive fascination with the artist. Initially drawn to the mystique of the Factory and its inhabitants, she quickly found Warhol to be a surprisingly mundane and somewhat dismissive figure, more interested in finding a subject for his magazine than engaging in genuine connection. Despite Warhol’s own loneliness and the shared sense of outsider status they both seemed to embody, the author ultimately felt a persistent sense of alienation and unease, a feeling that mirrored Warhol’s own and fueled her continued fascination with the Factory from afar.