Joyce Clark will never forget the day she visited Douglas Latchford’s apartment in Bangkok a decade ago to deliver a book from a friend.
The Asian art aficionado didn’t know Latchford well, but the host insisted she stay for a glass of champagne and dinner.
Guests started streaming in the door. Then came the caviar.
“They were literally kissing his ring,” Clark said. “He was an emperor of sorts.”
This was Latchford in a nutshell — charming, gregarious, a man of exquisite...