In 1967, the world was Twiggy’s oyster. The English model, whose look and style had become emblems of the Swinging Sixties—think big eyes, a pixie cut, lots of mascara, and androgynous looks—had evolved from a promising teen icon into an international superstar. Her power was undeniable, her zeal for life, irreplaceable. Yet, when director Woody Allen met the young star in 1967, he didn’t greet her with kindness.

Instead, the 31-year-old director (at the time) sought to embarrass her. He wanted to ridicule her; to make Twiggy feel small. In front of a live studio audience, he asked her: “What are your views on serious matters?” At the time, the 17-year-old Twiggy was on her first visit to the United States. Her face crumbles; her lips twist up and eyes look nervous. “Like what?” she replies, frowning.

“Like, who’s your favorite philosopher?” he replies, his voice dripping with condescension.

Her eyes light up in surprise. She laughs, charmingly, in what could almost pass for as delight, before admitting, “I haven’t got one. I don’t know any.” She sticks her tongue out, before adding: “Who’s yours?”

Everything stays still for a second, before it flips. Allen, now the surprised one, sort of fumbles around, and retorts, “Oh, I don’t know. I like them all,” sheepishly. At this point in the interview, Twiggy realizes what’s going on and zeroes in with the accuracy and confidence of a hawk circling its prey. Before he can finish speaking, she asks, “Who?”