I have a confession to make; I’m afraid I go weak at the knees for guys in stripes. Not any old stripey thing, I hasten to add, but nicely tailored Sixties or Seventies numbers (and a bit of early Eighties stripey shirt action, Duran-style). I’m not sure where it came from, or why it has such a strange effect on me, but I’m not sure I really care. I’m just enjoying the view…..
(sensory overload….Pattie in Ossie! George in stripes!! Where to look, where to look….)
Several years ago, when I was in the first throws of my New Romantic love affair, a friend told me about something she’d seen on ITV a few years prior, called Hunting Venus. It starred Martin Clunes as the floppy-shirted bassist and Neil Morrissey as the flamboyant lead singer of a New-Rom group called The Venus Hunters, who are kidnapped and blackmailed into reforming the group. Danny Webb appears to be doing a mighty fine impression of Andy Taylor, I’m not quite sure which drummer Ben Miller was inspired by but I’m fairly certain Mark Williams is only channeling Nick Rhodes sartorially. Either that or he’s seen some interview I missed out on….
She loved it so much that she bought the soundtrack and recently gifted it to me in a clear-out. By now I’ve got most of the tracks on there anyway, but it’s still a nice thing to have. I never did see it at the time, and I still can’t find any evidence of it having been released on DVD. I desperately want to see it now, of course, especially after finding it on YouTube. In poor quality and with the soundtrack disabled for several parts, I’m not sure I want that to be the first time I get to see it.
Anyway, because the title track (Starburst; co-written by Jools Holland no less) has been stuck in my head ALL day and making me laugh like a drain every time (yes, I have a childish sense of humour) I thought I would inflict share a clip with you. Watch out for Simon Le Bon, Tony Hadley AND Gary Numan making cameo appearances. Why has this not been released? Why??
Okay, maybe I can only summon three to mind whilst writing this [will add more if I can think of them] but still…they do seem to be ageing rather well, don’t they? Recent concert photos of Mr Martin Kemp got me thinking about how dishy he and Mr Nigel Taylor still are – and then I remembered that Mick Karn isn’t doing too badly either. I’m more of a Sylvian kinda girl, but Karn comes a close second with interesting hair and make-up….
…then it’s good enough for me. Fabulous Vivienne Westwood squiggle top I just spotted on eBay, and Mr Nigel Taylor had the same one in blue!
In summary:-
Duran Duran have still got ‘it’.
I do not like N.E.R.D. Or their fans.
Duran Duran can control the weather with their music. Hold Back The Rain actually did the trick both times. They are Gods.
When you are being nearly crushed to death, keeping your shoes on becomes disproportionately important.
If you stand in the middle of a swelling crowd of festival-type people whilst wearing a Sixties dress and shout at them, in a posh accent, for being stupid then people will look at you a bit funny. It’s inevitable.
Nick Rhodes owes me the amazing vintage Adam Ant badge I lost in the mêlée. It’s his fault we were in a crowd of idiots. He said this was a festival which ladies could wear nice shoes to, because it was in a park. Real world, meet Nick. Nick, meet the real world.
"Oh, so THAT'S the real world over yonder is it? Oh dear..."
Contrary to some reviews, a 50-year-old man shouting ‘freebase’ and gyrating on stage is not sad…it’s delightful and endearing. Well, when it’s Simon Le Bon anyway.
My girls may have been getting more excited about Simon’s top hat [and, later on, tuxedo] and Nick’s cravat and cane, but John Taylor is an expert at doing a Miss Peelpants-orientated strip tease. Sharp suit. Jacket off, leaving white shirt and waistcoat. Then waistcoat off, leaving slightly crumpled white shirt and braces. Top marks!
Well, I’m now back from my Duran ‘Odyssey’ and I’m almost at a loss to process the weird old week I’ve had. I’ve been all the way up to Edinburgh and back, have seen the boys twice in one week (both times from very near the front by sheer luck and steely determination respectively), have walked into a service station with rollers in my hair, have sat eating pineapple wedges and glace cherries from behind the bar of the Hard Rock Cafe because they were no longer serving food (many thanks to the kindly bar staff), have cursed Nick Rhodes quite a lot (a man like that should understand that open air gigs and nice hair, make-up and clothes DO NOT MIX), nearly drowned attempting to get to Edinburgh Castle in torrential rain, nearly died in an N.E.R.D crowd whilst waiting for the Duran set, have laughed so hard I started bawling (still can’t work out if it was because it was all so funny or utterly horrifying)…oh and I even ate a Pot Noodle. Which is possibly the most alarming aspect to the entire week.
So now I can get back to work, I’m sure you’ll all be pleased to hear!
69 years young today. Although once upon a time he was my favourite Beatle (way back in my early teens when I first saw A Hard Day’s Night and Help!), Ringo is rather annoying these days. But he was a Beatle, he was really rather delicious and loveable, was married to the superfab Maureen, gave us the rather dishy Mr Zak Starkey, and appeared in lots of kitschy ’60s and ’70s films. Oh, and directed Born To Boogie. So there’s a lot to salute, I just wish he’d remember where he came from and be a bit more gracious.
But ’til then, Happy Birthday Naughty Beatle and fellow Cancerian!
Oh, and if you’ll turn to 4.46 in this YouTube video, you can have a good look at his very nice arse.
Watching the Seven Ages of Rock on YeSTERDAY [or is it yEsterday? I can never remember now…] I happened upon a surprising Ossie spot. After initially enjoying young Mr David Gilmour (yummy!), the BryanGod (yummier!!) and then a young Peter Gabriel (surprisingly yum in his early days, I hadn’t realised)…..they proceeded to show the clip of Gabriel with the fox head….and a red dress. But not just any red dress….
Oh yeah. Mr Gabriel was wearing an Ossie. Presumably belonging to his wife? I think it rather suits him, and certainly makes an interesting contrast to Bowie and Jagger wearing “official” Ossie menswear.
I once sold the black version over at Vintage-a-Peel. I wonder, should I ever come across another one, whether the Gabriel connection would be a unique selling point?? Methinks perhaps not….
You may or may not remember my ongoing saga with Odette, my thin white Duchess of a mannequin. Well her stand finally gave up the ghost a few months back, and I’m no welder, so she’s been semi-retired for now (she might be going to live with a friend in Cardiff, so I know she’ll be in good hands). I’ve been using Lil the Dummy ever since but, while I certainly like the simplicity of a dummy, she’s definitely lacking four very important features which allow me to show off sleeves and trousers.
I recently acquired this new-old mannequin; I’ve been coveting a proper vintage one for years. As soon as I unpacked her, I knew what her name had to be. She’s a Roxy girl through and through, so she’s Roxy. Also, Manifesto is a brilliant album cover. And a good pun at that.
However, since I respect my customers’ opinions, I thought I’d ask you all what you thought. She’ll stay put anyway, for the occasional trousersuit or big sleeved confection, but I’m not sure whether or not she should totally replace the dummy. Opinions, if you please?
p.s She’s also giving me wig-envy. But I’m not sure I could carry off a strawberry shag?
Current favourite Donovan song: I Love My Shirt. I love Donovan anyway, but this song is just brilliant in so many ways. I can relate wholeheartedly (shirts with stitching going all over the place, scuffed boots with the Nth pair of replacement heels, my velvet frock coat with the bald patch where my bag strap goes….).
Sometimes I like something crisp and new and I adore my occasional pristine vintage pieces, but there’s nothing quite like an old favourite. Bobbles, holes and all.
And for Brits of a certain vintage….here’s the Trevor and Simon version. Swing those pants!
I’ve been quiet again, but with better reason this time. I’ve had my groupie gals staying for the week, and have been immersed in rock talk for most of that time. Charley had the most incredible book of photos by the legendary Mick Rock, including several of Mr Bryan Ferry which nearly had me on the floor in swoonfulness….
He seems to be popping up all over the place [and in conversations] far more frequently at the moment, or I’m just noticing it more, and it’s all leading me to realise that I have one hell of a serious crush on him.
I mean, what’s not to crush on?
I’m afraid I’m a sucker for the [dark] floppy hair and blue eyes combination. Add to that the sophisticated (even at the height of glam rock) dress sense, the slightly odd dancing, the fact that he appears to have been born middle-aged [and has therefore never aged], and then there’s that voice. The voice of God, as someone put it. Oh yeah….
He really is a sort of God. He’s always exceedingly cool, without ever chasing such a thing. Far too much effort I’m sure, he leaves that kind of thing to Mr Bowie. And I love that quote about how Roxy Music wanted to redecorate hotel rooms rather than trash them. No wonder my beloved Durans worship the BryanGod so wholeheartedly.
And at 63, I definitely still would. I’ve even got an Antony Price dress hanging up in my wardrobe for such an occasion. I’m not actually sure it should ever leave my closet for anything less than Bryan Ferry.
Liz Eggleston 