The Florentine releases the following statement on behalf of Jade and her closest friends in Florence. For press queries, contact email@example.com. La versione in lingua italiana si trova sotto.
This message is from Ashley Olsen’s best friend Jade, and Ashley’s closest friends in Florence.
“We are bereft and numbed by what has happened. This is horrific and unimaginable. Ashley has been ripped from us in the most evil way, and it is impossible to comprehend. In this sad and confusing time our thoughts and our love go to Ashley’s father, mother, and sister, and to all of her family.
Ashley was a rare and kindhearted spirit. She immediately became a familiar part of life in the Oltrarno where she lived, embraced by everyone who knew her. In Florence ours is a huge community of young and creative expats, from every continent in the world, and we are close-knit. Ashley’s beloved dog, Scout, and her quirky style marked her out. From her long coats to her trademark hats, you never knew what outfit she’d put together next; she wore some crazy things. She loved pastel colours, so all summer we had pastel hair - hers was lilac and mine was pink. From a distance she stood out, you saw her coming. Up close it was the warm and vivacious smile that lit up her whole face that we, and so many others, will remember her by.
People were changed by her. Whoever you were, you always had her entire attention. She was warm and open, with an easy laugh that she loved to share. People smiled around her, and she quickly entered the hearts of everyone she met. She was the kind of person you could bare your soul to, and she would listen and love you in return. She would never, ever judge anyone. When I was facing difficult times, she was the only person I wanted to call. Before I could admit things to myself, I admitted them to her, and she was always there with a hug and a cup of tea.
She had a great sense of humour and her joy was contagious. She always had funny sayings like, “That’s a horse of a different colour!” Rolling in on her skateboard, sunglasses down, you knew the mischief was about to begin. When we lived together in the summer, we would call each other “The Grandmas”, living in our flat with the old-style granny furniture and our granny cups of tea, watching Netflix, eating takeaways, and then complaining about the takeaways we’d eaten. Friends would stick their heads in, “How are the Nannas today?” We went for a picnic in La Cascine where we randomly came across the elderly people of Florence dancing. We drank slush puppies, and I remember laughing our heads off as we danced the waltz with all the older people. She’d always ask me afterwards, “When are we going back to Grandma Park for another dance?”