People I have admired, or who have touched my life even in a small way, take over my thoughts these days.

Adrienne Steckling-Coen from St. Joseph, Mo., was such a person.

	Adrienne Steckling-Coen, a fashion designer who was feted here in 1982 at a Symphony Fashion Gala, was known for her loose-fitting, comfortable clothes. Click on drawing for larger image.

I learned she had died only recently from Peg Albert, who lives in Point Breeze and who once shared adventures with Adrienne when both hit New York City as young girls pursuing different careers in 1955.

They had been selected as guest editors (Joan Didion was also in that group) for Mademoiselle magazine and later shared an apartment.

Peg and Adrienne stayed in touch through the years, even if only by a phone call or a Christmas card.

I met Adrienne years later in the '70s, after she became Adri, the incredible fashion designer.

If you remember her work, you might recall the Claire McCardell influence, as well as the look of B.H. Wragge, where she would eventually work as she began her fashion career.

She had her own look, to be sure. She came to Pittsburgh for personal appearances with her designs early on and the late Lilyon Weingarten, buyer for Kaufmann's Forecast, told me I must see her work when I was covering fashion for The Pittsburgh Press.

I remember huge sleeves, especially in her sweaters, and loose-fitting, comfortable designs, but she was ahead of her time and most women weren't used to her style.

She was a young sportswear designer who made clothes she liked and could wear. At more than 5 feet, 9 inches, and thin, she was not the average woman.

Her beauty was not in her face but in her spirit.

She was one of the first of a young breed coming along who would make fashion exciting and fun and new. But even as she became well known and honored, she was never hoity or haughty.

She is one of the designers featured in the 1978 book "The Fashion Makers," in such company as Bill Blass, Geoffrey Beene, Edith Head, James Galanos, Ralph Lauren.

But real fashion fame eluded her.

Jane Vandermade, then fashion director for Joseph Horne's, saw her promise and invited her to be saluted at the Symphony Fashion Gala in 1982.

"She never quite made it as I expected, but I saw her then as a fresh face and future star in the fashion world. Adri impressed me, and helped change the look of sportswear," recalls Mrs. Vandermade.

The more I have learned from Peg Albert and other sources about Adri's life, the more I think her life is a movie. It seems to have everything.

I knew Adri from afar, with a few friendly encounters through the years. I would never have guessed that she had lived with John Rawlings, the handsome and renowned photographer, one of the most prolific photographers of the 20th century.

He created more than 200 Vogue and Glamour covers before he died in 1970 at age 58.

His book "John Rawlings: 30 Years in Vogue" is dedicated simply "For Adri."

We are talking a lot about loft living in Pittsburgh now, but when I visited Adri's loft in 1982, I was wide-eyed.

It was on the seventh floor of an old warehouse. When my cab pulled up to the address around 20th Street in New York City, I felt sure the driver had made a mistake.

I ascended in a freight elevator. This couldn't be right.

I saw it all at once: the sun shining on the antique piano from her family home in Missouri; her beloved Siamese cat, Mini-Cherie; the large bed covered in black leather; a Jacuzzi (I had never seen one); a kitchen more or less on wheels.

She would live there the rest of her life, even conduct her business there.

As for romance, the day after my loft visit in June 1982, she was heading to a tiny town, Radda, Italy, to marry Fabio Coen, a respected editor of children's books.

Her gala salute here was the following September. Coen died in 1998 at age 80 from Parkinson's disease.

Adri told Peg Albert, "He was the love of my life."

She would later be diagnosed with a rare brain disease, similar to Parkinson's, called progressive supranuclear palsy. She used a wheelchair before she died in November. She was 72.

Frank Olive, the late millinery designer who was always popular with his Pittsburgh customers, was her best friend at the time I met them. Losing him in 1995 was another heartbreak.

A memorial to honor Adri's legacy will be held Friday at Parsons The New School for Design in New York. I hope to be there.