Everyone thinks Marilyn Monroe is dead. Not at all! She's been living in New York City for years.

I had met her, briefly, while in college in Memphis, in 1968. (This was during her "Elvis years"-- something the media never caught on to. Marilyn had been "dead"--as far as the public knew--for five or six years at that point. But Elvis, and several other close friends, including Aristotle Onassis, were helping her "disappear." When Onassis married Jacqueline Kennedy in the late 60s--providing her sanctuary on his island Skorpios--Marilyn was romping around the island, too, unseen by the world. Ironic, isn't it, in light of the affair between Monroe and JFK? At first, Jackie didn't know Marilyn was ensconced on the other side of Skorpios, but in time, when Onassis would be off in Paris trysting with opera diva Maria Callas, Jackie learned of Marilyn's presence on the island and they became friends. The two, after all, had much to talk about, and bond over. But that's another story....)

All this may have you wondering whether Elvis is dead. He did live some 15 years beyond Marilyn's "death," and, like Marilyn, it's understandable that he, too, would like to have "checked out" of the celebrity rat race. But, as the Munchkins sang regarding the Wicked Witch of the East, Elvis is morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, positively, absolutely, undeniably and reliably dead.

At any rate, in 2000, I literally bumped into Marilyn on a side street just off New York City's Fifth Avenue. (Believe me: that was some bump!) I reminded her of our brief meeting years before in Memphis. She said she remembered. But, considering her age, I doubt it.

As we walked down the street, I asked her why--if she was trying to remain anonymous--she was out on the street dressed in a replica of the costume she wore in what's probably the most famous scene in her most famous movie, Billy Wilder's "The Seven-Year Itch." She said this was the beauty of her plan: because people see virtually everything on the streets of New York, they think she's merely an impersonator. Consequently, Marilyn says, they simply smile and walk on by. In other words, she was "hidden" in plain sight.

"But what about the media?" I asked. "Oh, a select few know the truth," she responded, "but they respect my privacy. They're longtime friends."

I know she's undergone cosmetic surgery in New York over the years. But about 30-35 years ago, she went to Dr. Patanguy in Rio de Janeiro for his truly revolutionary cosmetic work. He perfected a cosmetic procedure that bears his name: The Patanguy Method. It consists of removing a circular piece of scalp from the very top of the head and pulling everything up--uniformly.

She also says she assiduously avoids the sun. That's when I asked, "Then what are you doing out here on the street in the middle of the day?" She said she had "cabin fever," that several days of non-stop rain had kept her trapped in her apartment. But she promised that her "stroll" would last no longer than 30 minutes.

As we continued to walk, I noticed we were approaching a subway grate. I couldn't help myself: as any lover of movies would have done, I asked Marilyn if she'd have her picture made with me. "Why not!" she said. (She's such a kid; that's one reason people loved her so.)

As the subway rattled beneath us, a gust of wind--right on cue--blew up through the grate. Marilyn struck that famous pose and--voila!--here you see the result: a virtually dead-on re-creation of her famous scene from Wilder's 1957 film.

I suggest you eat plenty of tomatoes. Marilyn attributes much of her good health to what she calls "the tons" of tomatoes she eats year-round. (She grows them in several mini-greenhouses on the rooftop of her Upper West Side apartment building.)

And remember: cooked tomatoes are best because the cooking process fully releases their anti-cancer and anti-aging properties.

But doesn't Marilyn look good? No one knows her age for sure. But at 80-plus, she's something of a tomato herself, don't you think?

-- Hoyt Harris/Paris 2003