Brad Johns was my mentor. He showed me by example how to be commanding yet kind, generous and idealistic. The first time I met him, I watched him gently ask a bossy, new client to leave the salon because she was “not looking for my kind of blonde.” I was a 24-year-old, junior assistant beauty editor making $26,000 a year living in Brooklyn, and I knew right away. Brad Johns was brilliant.

Brad has been a touchstone throughout my adult life. He knew that because I told him every chance I could.

In my career, I have worked with remarkable collections: enduring the sickening stench of a perfume collector’s Manhattan apartment, scrubbing ranch tools at Clara Bow’s homestead, and hauling vanloads of costumes belonging to Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gormé in 115-degree heat. Alongside me have always been graduate students, researching, working, and learning. They are on this journey as well.

I have never encountered anything like Brad’s self-curated archive. Stewarding the Brad Johns Archives is both a scholarly responsibility and an act of respect for the brilliant artist. Brad loved me when I was just a Sun-In-using dummy with little to offer than a thick head of hair and a few good jokes. Brad knew what I was before I knew who I was.

I want to use my professional training to ensure that history remembers who he was.