As I’ve mentioned previously, I’ve been writing fashion pieces for the WestView News. With spring hovering near, the West Village is starting to take on a greenish hue. Tiny leaves are budding on the trees in sunny gardens. Birdsong is in the air, calling us to spring forward out of our beds at an earlier hour. A sprinkling of fairy dust was also in the air on St. Patrick’s day, as West Village residents and visitors alike took to the streets sporting green to celebrate our favorite Irish holiday.
Paul MacKnight’s St. Pat’s ’stache
It’s an eerie coincidence that Paul MacKnight works at both Barre3 and Bar Six, both in the West Village. (And frequents Hell’s Kitchen’s Bar Nine, the dueling piano bar?) He poured a wicked Irish coffee on Sunday, serving it up to St. Patrick’s Day patrons during his shift behind the bar. In honor of the day, he put on some gold and green sparkle, making him the pixiest bartender in town.
Sana Siddiqui strolling down Sixth Avenue with Jefferson Market Library in background
Meanwhile, Sana Siddiqui strolled with her family down Sixth Avenue, and this couple power-walked in green splendor down a Gold Coast side street.
I’ve been getting emails from Cornelia St. Cafe owner Robin Hirsch for the past month, letting his mailing list know that the cafe will be closing for good, after 4 decades of being a Greenwich Village institution. I wandered over there today after Barre class, not realizing it’s the last day they will be open.
I had a chat with Robin, and he said the closure is not just about rent increases, but also about general landlord nastiness. Evidently the landlord who owns the building is on the Top 10 list of worst landlords in New York, and actually boasts of being THE WORST!
I’ve had a few wonderful evenings at the cafe over the past few years, and recently was the first patron in for a morning coffee, trying to soak up the last few bits of memory before the cafe closes. Some of you may recall that when I worked at Krystyna’s Place, the vintage clothing store on the same block as the cafe, we wound up the photo shoot at the cafe, and I met Robin that day. He gave us each a glass of wine, as Krystyna is a good friend of his. It was the perfect ending to a dream day.
So I have a soft spot in my heart for this New York institution. For a while, my writing teacher from Gotham Writers, Nelsie Spence, was hosting a monthly comedy reading show here, the Imperfect Perfect Show. Sadly, I never got over to see it.
Today was an especially vibrant and emotional day at the cafe, with regulars and new visitors alike thronging around the bar, filling the tables, and lining up outside for the 3:00 PM Songwriter’s Exchange. Tonight, the final event will be an artists’ salon, starting at 7 PM. I was lucky to get a seat at the bar, and ordered a tasty New Year’s Day brunch of eggs Florentine, coffee, and mimosa. An excellent first meal of the year, though tinged with sadness.
Here are some short clips of the scene outside the cafe today.
On one side of me was a couple from Toronto, in town to celebrate New Year’s Eve. The man is a performer in Come From Away in Toronto, and his partner is a tango dancer. They went to a tango event last night and then finished up the evening at Marie’s Crisis, a sing-along piano bar in the West Village. On the other side of me, I met a long-time New Yorker and cabaret performer, MAC nominee Kathryne Langford. She is under consideration for a Bistro Award for a recent cabaret performance, and has promised to take me out to some of her favorite New York places. How wonderful to meet a new friend on the first day of the year.
The cafe is selling its custom-made tables. Lacking space in my apartment for any more furniture, I took home a Cornelia St. Cafe sparkling bottle instead. (See top photo.)
Robin Hirsch is an amazing person, a former Oxford, Fulbright, and English-Speaking Union Scholar, who has acted, directed, taught, and published on both sides of the Atlantic. He is a long-time supporter of eclectic artists and art forms, ranging from stilts, to tight-rope walking, to writing to spoken word to music, and much more. He has written a book about the cafe, called The Whole World Passes Through: Stories from the Cornelia Street Café, and other works as well. His cafe will be much missed, and I wish him and the staff all the best as they head in a new direction.
Here’s a brief history of the cafe, and some stories about the cafe on the same page. Here’s another great article about the cafe and some of the famous and infamous people and goings-on.
I spent this New Year’s Eve with my friend Lew, and we began the evening with a cocktail at the Rock Center Cafe Bar, overlooking the ice rink from the north. (In my case, a refreshing peppermint martini–close cousin to the Rempeltini!) Then we dined at the Sea Grill, overlooking the ice rink from the south.
We had a lovely view of the statue of Prometheus, framed by the fountain backdrop, illuminated by lights that changed color periodically. The fountain was so beautiful it truly enhanced the splendor of the evening.
According to the bards at the Rock, “Prometheus is said to be the best-known sculpture in Rockefeller Center and the most photographed monumental sculpture in all of NYC. Created by famed American sculptor Paul Manship, who held a great fascination for mythological subjects and events, it has become the main attraction of the Lower Plaza. Its central theme is best stated by the quote that’s carved in the red granite wall behind him, taken from the sixth-century B.C. Greek dramatist Aeschylus: “Prometheus, Teacher in Every Art, Brought the Fire That Hath Proved to Mortals a Means to Mighty Ends.””
We had hoped to begin the evening with a cocktail at Bar SixtyFive at the Rainbow Room, which had a holiday party beginning at 9:30. Tickets for this event on the 65th floor of Rockefeller Center began at $450. Unfortunately, they didn’t allow anyone upstairs prior to the party, so the closest I got to the Rainbow Room is this coatcheck ticket!After our lovely dinner, we walked up Fifth Avenue, retracing my steps from a week ago in reverse. We saw the Bergdorf Goodman windows again, and walked along the park to 7th Avenue. I’d read online that the ball at Times Square would be visible all the way up 7th Avenue to the park, and indeed it was, albeit the size of a pea.
We stood under a shelter until 5 to midnight, then stepped out in the rain at the top of 7th Avenue, near Central Park, to watch the ball drop. Being that it was about the size of a pea from where we stood, once it started to fall we couldn’t see it. However, we could see the fireworks down in Times Square, and fireworks behind us in the park.
It was fun to be out in the rain with other people in a festive mood, and I am glad Lew was up for the adventure!
After our taxi dropped Lew off in Chelsea, I finished the night at Small’s in my West Village neighborhood, with a set of jazz and a glass of prosecco. I made it home by 2:15 a.m., and woke up feeling pretty good…
I hope you all had a wonderful evening, in whatever key you chose, and wish you the very best for 2019.
And just to start the year off on the right note, I want to share this article about the Top 99 Good News Stories of 2018. Thanks, Jill, for passing this on.
Bergdorf Goodman 2018 – one of the windows facing the Plaza Hotel
I recently saw the film Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf’s with my friends Deborah M. and Nancy G. (Nancy is co-founder and co-owner of Zeitgeist Films, and this year she distributed the New York zeitgeist films Bill Cunningham New York and Studio 54, and many others.) One segment of the fascinating documentary about Bergdorf Goodman was devoted to the efforts that go on behind the scene to create the Christmas window displays. The displays wrap around the corner of the building, from W. 57th St. (facing the Plaza Hotel) to Fifth Avenue. There are about 6 or 7 full-sized picture windows, complete with picture frames of various sorts, including ivy, as well as a number of smaller insets. Each individual window is indeed a work of art, filled with treasures.
Bergdorf Goodman has been lighting up 5th Avenue for over 100 years, moving up the avenue and occupying several locations over the years. The main store, on the west side of Fifth Avenue, opened in 1928. They also have a men’s store, across the street.
BG 2015 First
I first admired the window displays on Fifth Avenue the winter of 2015. The photos above are from this first foray into New York’s Christmas magic. Some of you may have seen my video of the Lord and Taylor display. Sadly, L&T is closing its flagship store on Fifth Avenue, and they did not have displays this year—just “Everything Must Go” signs filling every window. So sad to see a New York institution die, to be replaced by WeWork headquarters. (Lord and Taylor is now owned by the Hudson Bay Company, and other locations remain open, but not the flagship.)
BG 2015 Second
Awash in more than seven million Swarovski crystals, the 2015 theme was appropriately named Brilliant Holidays. Two of the windows shown in my slide show are called The Crown Jewels and The Treasure Chest. I think you’ll be able to tell which images are part of these incredible displays.
Bergdorf 2018 First
In any case, I was especially motivated to go look at Bergdorf’s windows this Christmas (2018) after seeing the documentary. And I thought it would be interesting to compare this year’s windows with the ones I saw in 2015. So I’ve prepared the “then and now” slideshows for you–two sets for each year. These windows are truly the epitome of fine craftsmanship, creativity, bling, and extravagance. This year’s theme is Bergdorf Goodies, with all manner of cakes, cookies, and candies, and I wanted to enter into these displays and start biting. But really, I got a sugar rush just by looking at them!
Bergdorf 2018 Second
In case you are wondering how these windows come into being, I highly recommend you see the documentary. Once the theme for the current year’s windows is selected, craftspeople in Brooklyn create the backdrops and sculpture creatures that populate the displays. Other groups of people select clothes and accessories to work with the theme, dress the manikins, and mount the displays. I can’t imagine how much it costs to create these gorgeous displays for the enjoyment of New Yorkers and visitors. Of course, the goods on display cost hundreds of thousands of dollars too. I must confess I wish I could wear clothes like this from time to time. They are so fantastical and fun.
It was a rainy night, but there was a constant stream of people passing by and stopping to admire the windows. It was a challenge to get the unobstructed views of the main picture windows. A New York couple who clearly looks at the windows every year was commenting on the displays, and I couldn’t resist filming them.
“Oooooh. Adorable. Fantastic. They must be just divinely inspired to come up with one of a kind things. These are not normal off the rack. These are things that they actually made. Look at these manikins, how skinny the legs are. No sense of reality. These are just divine. This is the height of the trade. It doesn’t get any better than this. No one can do anything … like this. They made these… they make everything. It’s all too great. [Street vendor: “Umbrella, umbrella…”]”
More Displays
After enjoying the display at Bergdorf Goodman, I continued down Fifth Avenue, past Tiffany’s and Trump Tower, to the always decadently rich Dolce & Gabbana display. My first New York designer dress was a Dolce & Gabbana satin party dress, which I lost 15 pounds to fit into. I have always had a soft spot in my heart for D&G since then! This clip shows the Cake Factory in one of the windows at BG, followed by the window at D&G:
Continuing south down Fifth Avenue, I saw the marvellous Saks Fifth Avenue display, across the street from Rockefeller Center. People were thronging the sidewalk across the street, and barricades were up on both sides to prevent gawkers from seeping onto the street and causing vehicular incidents.
It is an amazing display of lights set to a Christmas carol. After this, there was a pause, and then the lights started up again to New York, New York. Ah, home!
Finally, I headed along W. 47th St., over to the BDFM subway line on Sixth Ave. that would whisk me home. On W. 47th, I saw the Rockefeller Christmas tree and rink, as well as FAO Schwarz, the oldest toy store on earth. It was open on Fifth Avenue continuously for 150 years, then closed 3 years ago. It just reopened at Rockefeller Center this November, in time for Christmas. The splendor of life-sized stuffies is back!
Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall. Photo credit: MSG Photos.
I’m going to make a new Christmas tradition, shared by many New Yorkers and tourists before me, to see the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall for their annual Christmas Spectacular.
Outside Radio City Music Hall
I saw them for the first time last year, on a dream date with a guy named Guy, and I was super excited to see the show again this year.
Christmas Balls
My friends Sally S. and Heather F. (of 9 W. 10th St, my former home) know people connected with the show, including the people who sew all the sequins on the costumes (in a tiny tailor’s shop in Chinatown) and one of the former dancers. These creme de la creme fraiche dancers do up to 4 shows a day! Sally told me the choreography has been the same since the 1930s. The repertoire is too big to do all the numbers in one year, so they switch them around, with the most popular numbers being performed every year. For example, the precision dance of the toy soldiers.
Waiting for the curtain to rise. During the show, the entire proscenium arch becomes a movie screen.
There is something so fascinating and mesmerizing about the chorus line, when they are all kicking their legs in unison. I don’t know why I love it so much. It is thrilling to see, and it never gets boring… Sally, who is a prominent member of the dance community of New York (founder of the International Tap Society, on the Bessie Committee, teacher, author, etc.), said this question has occupied the dance world for decades, if not centuries, with no clear answer!
Each year, children’s choirs perform a pre-show Christmas carol. How cute is that?
This year I attended with my friend from work, Sally M.
Sally M. outside Radio City Music Hall
We had a fantastic time, and I can’t wait to see the show again next year!
On my way to see the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall, with my friend Sally, shown in the post above
Dear friends, it is the holiday season, and things can get chaotic, especially with a full moon like yesterday. Up until now I’ve been having a great time in New York, taking in wonderful holiday events like the Rockettes at Radio City.
But then it comes time to leave the city… And I had the most annoying non-travel experience yesterday, due to Delta Airlines’ thoughtlessness. So let me take you on a holiday kvetch, if I may…
At 6:10 am yesterday, I was prevented from checking my bags, and hence from boarding my 7 am flight to Seattle, and then endured 6 hours of the most frustrating phone calls you can image. I found Delta Airlines’ customer service to be appalling, and vow to never fly on this airline again if I can help it.
Since I couldn’t board my flight without checking my bags (though there was actually time for me to go through security and board the flight), I had to miss the flight entirely. The alternates I was offered were to pay $7,000 to book another flight the same day, or to do an overnight flight involving 5 hours’ layover in the middle of the night at LAX. Just imagine the fun! All because of a misleading statement on the Delta Airlines boarding pass… Followed by the worst customer service you can imagine, both at the airport and on the phone.
By contrast, this is the thoughtful information that WestJet sent me for the replacement flight I booked with them:
Hello Karen Y, your WestJet flight leaves in less than 24 hours…
Please remember that Holiday travel is the busiest time of the year at the airport, so give yourself the advantage of a little extra time. This email contains your flight details, and will help you check in easier. We look forward to welcoming you on board…
We strongly encourage you to arrive at the airport a minimum of two hours prior to your scheduled departure, to ensure that you do not miss your flight. Due to a higher than expected volume of guests traveling, and current U.S. Transportation Security Agency (TSA) staffing, excessive security wait times are expected.
Changes at Calgary International Airport – When you arrive at the new terminal, you no longer need to pick up your bags when you go through Canadian customs. We also recommend you allow for extra time to reach your next gate; in some cases, 25-30 minutes may be needed.
This information is so thoughtful, and tells me all the details I need to know. Plus, they offer one free checked bag!
And this is their boarding pass:
With a handy quarter-fold layout. Brilliant!
By contrast, this is what Delta said on my boarding pass, which I printed after doing an online check-in the night before my flight:
Imagine checking in online at 11 PM, tired from a week of work and a day of Christmas shopping, packing, and wrapping… Wouldn’t you be delighted to see you only need to get to the airport 75 minutes ahead of time for a domestic flight from New York to Seattle? Well, I was, and set my alarm for an extra hour of sleep, getting up at 4:40 a.m., to arrive at the airport by 6 a.m., in time for my 7 a.m. flight. Note the wording “recommended,” implying 75 minutes is lots of time and you could even allow a bit less. At least that’s how I read it!
Imagine my shock when I was standing in the extremely long bag drop line, after waiting in my taxi 15 extra minutes to travel the last quarter mile at JFK, due to 5 lanes of jammed traffic, and saw the notice that bags must be checked an hour before the flight. I had not been informed of this in my emails from Travelocity nor on the Delta Airlines boarding pass. Normally I do arrive at the airport 2 hours ahead of time as a matter of course, but because of this notice of 75 minutes on the boarding pass, I didn’t do this. Hence I discovered the hard way that this 60-minute limit for bag drop is evidently the norm, which everyone knows but me.
Much hilarity (actually, many F-bombs) ensued, as I waited in Delta’s so-called “Rebooking” queue at JFK. There were over a dozen poor travelers ahead of me. There was only one woman at the counter, and each rebooking transaction seemed to require from 20 minutes to 90 minutes (as in the case of one woman in a white and purple blouse who was there the whole time I was, who must have had an exceeding complicated travel itinerary to reschedule).
After dropping the F-bombs, commiserating with others in the line, and noticing the line’s slower-than-snail’s pace, I made the call to Delta Airlines. Others in line began to do the same, trying to rebook on their phones, and eventually another Delta employee came over to hand out cards with the phone number to call to rebook. Never mind adding another person to the counter on one of the busiest travel days of the year. That would actually help people! Meanwhile, there was a crowd of a dozen Delta employees in matching t-shirts sitting in the next area, waiting to assist passengers with wheelchairs. Of whom there were none.
I called Delta (13 minutes), who said I had to call Alaskan Air because they were the “overarching” carrier for my itinerary, which culminated in an Alaskan Airlines flight from Seattle to Kelowna, BC. Geez! Alaskan Airlines (12 minutes) said they couldn’t help me because the first leg was with Delta. Next call–Travelocity. (40 minutes). This is where I found out my alternative travel options. (The aforementioned $7,000 trip or the appealing 5-hour middle of the night layover at LAX.)
I declined these options, and found a cafe on the arrivals level where I could do my own research. Within minutes, I had hot coffee, scrambled eggs, and a $660 WestJet flight to Kelowna leaving at 5:20 pm the next day, arriving at 11:21 pm (unfortunately requiring my sister Kim to travel an hour to pick me up, and then another hour to take me back to her home in Armstrong). Still a crappy option, but better than the others.
So, I sorted it out and was reasonably happy, due to Google, the coffee, and the eggs. I left the airport, and had a harrowing cab ride in a Drakkar-drenched taxi back to Manhattan. I opened the window to stop from choking on the stench. The driver kept looking at his cell phone and texting, while driving at high speed! I asked him to stop three times. Can you believe this? The third time he was actually texting while going over the bridge! Geez. Then he asked me if I want a ride back to the airport tomorrow (with him). Not!
So, finally I’m home, merely 3 hours after I set out…
But there’s one more matter to attend to, which is the exorbitant $80 in baggage fees that Delta Airlines charged me. No way was I going to let this ride, when they refused to accept my bags at the airport. (Did I mention the original flight cost $1,155!?? To fly from New York to Kelowna, BC! Plus this $80 fee for bags!!)
So at 8:12 am, I embarked on a new journey into unprecedented levels of frustration, until at 12:41 pm I finally got my baggage fee refunded. That’s right, 4.5 hours. 4.5 horrible hours of rage, helplessness, tears, shouting, MF-bombs, cajoling, insistence, and rudeness (on my part). The first call was to Delta, but they said Alaska had the money for the bags. The next call was to Alaska, and they said Delta had the money. Back and forth, on hold, being told one thing by one party, another by the other, until finally someone at Delta admitted they had the money and would give me a refund. Which took her about 30 seconds to do, as I saw the refund email pop up on my phone immediately.
Sheesh! By now it was after noon, and I felt like a complete wreck, and sadly lacking in holiday cheer.
I spent the afternoon on the couch reading a New Yorker article about dementia, and then went to see The Grifters at the Metrograph Theater on the Lower East Side–a very civilized theater with a bar in the lobby! Both very cheering activities, as you can imagine. 😉 These reconnected me to my beloved New York.
Thanks for tuning in to my holiday kvetch, and I hope you join me in boycotting Delta Airlines forever!
Halloween hijinks on W. 8th Street with anomalous zebra.
Halloween 2018 was the fifth consecutive Halloween that I’ve spent in New York. Since I’ve always stayed in the Village, I’ve seen parts of the Halloween parade and vast numbers of revelers every year. It’s a time of year I love, and I have marched in the parade dressed as David Bowie once or twice.
This year, on Halloween night, I went to a Barre3 class with my friend Sally M. The class began at 7:45, and the parade began at 7:30. I was pretty sure that it would travel up from Canal to the studio location on Sixth Avenue at W. 8th Street during the class. Sure enough, about 5 minutes into the class, I saw a most shocking sight from the second-floor windows of the studio, overlooking both Sixth Avenue and W. 8th Street. The sidewalks were crowded with people, from the barricades at the curbs to the edges of the buildings. Literally wall-to-wall people, as far as the eye could see, along the aforementioned streets and Greenwich Avenue, which angles up at this intersection. This is itself was a fabulous sight, and of course many people in the crowd were dressed in costume. The three “naked” men in bathrobes particularly caught my eye. I guess they were having a spa day…
Sally acting corny at Halloween
Suddenly, the fervor increased, and gigantic skeletons appeared in the clear-road parade route. There were 4 or 5 bone racks, but they were so enormous there seemed to be more. They were long-limbed, with the skulls appearing at the height of our second floor windows, and the akimbo arm bones seeming to reach all the way across the street. I have never seen such a menacing sight! Especially as they were walking with a jerky, jarring motion (with hidden people on stilts walking along and operating the limbs).
Next came glowing green skulls, and then all manner of floats and individual celebrants. The parade went on for the remainder of the class, which was unusually small due to the fact that most people were probably in the parade or watching it. (The parade was estimated to have 60,000 marchers and between 1 and 2 million spectators this year—an unbelievable and possibly exaggerated number. I didn’t count that many, but if every block along the route was packed like the West Village segment, maybe it’s possible.) In any case, I didn’t mind the small class size, and took every opportunity to peek out the windows at the parade below. The teacher had illuminated the room solely with 4 disco lights in the corners. It was the most surreal and amazing class ever. What a lucky event!
As always, there were people on both ends of the political spectrum expressing their views at the parade. This pair make a pretty convincing Trump and Pence, with a cowardly lion thrown in:
And on the other side, Edvard Munch’s “The Scream” has something to say!
From Brooklyn Vegan: “2018’s theme, ‘I AM a Robot,’ brought lots of robot and android-inspired costumes, but the biggest trend of the night was politics, with tons of people dressing up as Donald Trump, his wife Melania, Brett Kavanaugh, Vladimir Putin, and other political figures. Many carried signs urging people to vote in next week’s midterm elections, as well.”
After class was over, my friend Marlene joined Sally and me, and we watched the parade for at least 20 minutes more. I dressed in my Bowie costume, and then we went down to W. 8th Street to join the throngs, chased down the three men in bathrobes, and went for a drink and bite at Loring Place. A magical evening!
I feel very fortunate to live in New York City and be a part of everything that’s going on here now, but I also have nostalgia for the New York that was, which is a New York I never knew. I glimpsed hints of it in obscure song references and books and movies. Remember the Talking Heads’ “Life During Wartime”? “This ain’t no Mudd Club, no CBGB, I ain’t got time for that now.”
How I wish I could have been at CBGB in the 70s or 80s! In case you don’t know, CBGB stood for Country, BlueGrass, and Blues, Hilly Kristal’s original vision for the club, yet CBGB soon became a famed venue of punk rock and new wave bands like the Ramones, Television, Patti Smith Group, Blondie, and Talking Heads. From the early 1980s onward, CBGB was known for hardcore punk. I had Blondie and Talking Heads on vinyl, and even played “Burning Down the House” during my mortgage burning party. But that’s a far cry from actually being here to be a part of the scene.
The full name of the club was CBGB OMFUG — Other Music for Uplifting Gormandizers. Although a gormandizer is usually a ravenous eater of food, what Kristal meant was “a voracious eater of… music.” What a guy! What a club. What amazing musicians and an exciting time in music history. Remember the Ramones’ “Rockaway Beach“?
Yesterday I went to Rockaway Beach with my friend Nikki, where I had the thrill of meeting a few native New Yorkers who actually hung out at CBGB back in the day. Walter Barry was a friend of Peter Steele of Carnivore, who was later in Type O Negative, an American gothic metal band formed in Brooklyn, New York in 1989, by Peter Steele (lead vocals, bass), Kenny Hickey (guitar, backing vocals), Josh Silver (keyboards, backing vocals), and Sal Abruscato (drums, percussions), who was later replaced by Johnny Kelly.
TON’s lyrical emphasis on themes of romance, depression, and death resulted in the nickname “the Drab Four” (in homage to the Beatles’ “Fab Four” moniker). The band went Platinum with 1993’s Bloody Kisses, and Gold with 1996’s October Rust, and gained a fanbase through seven studio albums, two best-of compilations, and concert DVDs. The photo above is Peter Steele at CBGB, which Walter has on his iPhone to this day! Walter also still gets royalties to this day for singing backup on two TON songs. Cool!
We’ve made plans for Walter, his wife Karen, Nikki, and me to go see the Queen movie, Bohemian Rhapsody, when it comes out in November. Music is truly the universal language. I think in our time it has had a bigger impact than any other form of creative expression. And places like CBGB are the crucibles that the music gets mashed up in.
Me and Mick Rock, the photographer who did the “Life on Mars” video in which Bowie wore this blue suit, and many of the iconic Bowie photos in the early 70s
In the last entry, I talked about some of the reasons I imagine explain Bowie’s popularity and general appeal. Now I’d like to share a bit more about his impact on me personally.
The first Bowie song I heard on the radio was Fame, when I was 10 years old. My parents didn’t usually play music in the house, or if they did, it was classical. But for some reason the radio in the large wooden console stereo was tuned to a rock station on this day. (My aunt must have changed the station the previous night when she was babysitting me and my sister.) I turned on the radio, and suddenly I was hearing something astonishing! I had never heard music like this before. The rolling bass line! The groove. The soundscape of tinkling and puncturing and rising and falling vocal lines. So much complexity. I couldn’t understand many of the words, beyond Fame, so it was the pure sound and the physical impact of it. The excitement! This music moved my body to dance. It filled my heart with possibility and longing to be somebody other than a shy, lonely suburban kid. It blew open my sheltered, limited life, and I knew that someday it was all going to be different for me. Now bear in mind that I didn’t know who Bowie was, and I didn’t know who was playing the song when I heard. I didn’t find that out until years later. But the impact of the song was marked indelibly–a significant moment in my life.
The next encounter with Bowie was the discovery of this record album at a used record swapmeet, with my boyfriend Rick and my sister Kim, when I was about 16.
By now I had been listening to rock radio avidly for a few years, and I knew who Bowie was. But I wasn’t a nut for him like many fans probably were. I just fell in love with his face on this record. I was intrigued because it looked like he had one blue eye and one brown eye. I thought I recognized a few of the songs, and I bought it.
This is when my feeling of connection to his music began, particularly with Rebel Rebel. Hey, I was 16! Totally the right time to find a voice for the wish to rise up and rebel against my parents, be my own person, be wild and free. Again there was that rolling, relentless twanging guitar sound, the insistent drums and bass, the driving force of it. And then the lyrics were about a girl I wanted to be. The hot tramp that Bowie loved! At around this time my sister and I saw Christiane F, and the teenage girl in the movie was going through the same stage of rebellion and trying to find herself, and it all was MC’d by Bowie.
Kim and I also found The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars around this time, and rented the VHS movie from the video store, and this story, visuals, and music entered our consciousness and stayed there for many years, well into our early twenties when we were sharing a series of apartments in New Westminster and partying most nights of the week at the local biker bar, Rockin’ Tonite. The whole storyline of the savior from space, and the end of the world, and the feeling that there was some magic somewhere–illlustrated by the movie with Bowie in all those fantastic costumes–stirred that longing for a special life. It spoke to my inner knowing that I was meant for something more than the limited suburbian world I grew up in (Burnaby) and the safe, ordinary life of an accountant that I’d chosen for myself.
As you all know, this drive for something more has illuminated my life, leading me to the Diamond Approach and inner journeying, to Monkey Valley, vision questing, and eventually to New York City, where I feel I’ve come home.
With my friend Andrea at a Bowie photography exhibit in Soho
So I’d like to close this post with a quote from Bowie’s song Lazurus, from his final album, Black Star:
“By the time I got to New York I was living like a king. Then I used up all my money.” The aptly named Lazarus depicts the end of life, rising up to heaven/the next realm of existence, seeing what we left behind down below, the feeling of freedom. The sorrow of the loss of what’s left behind. Oh, the cleverness, humor, and soul of Bowie. He shared the course of development of a human soul throughout a lifetime with us.
And from “Soul Love: “Inspirations have I none, just to touch the flaming dove. And love is not loving… And reaching up my loneliness evolves…” It could go on and on, but it has to end sometime. David Bowie.
Carrying on where I left off the previous post, I’ve been pondering the impact of Bowie, and what it all means.
I’m certain that on the larger stage, as with any big celebrity, Bowie represented an archetype that people want to experience. Probably more than one. The puer, or eternal golden youth, is one (the female version is puella aeterna)-—expressing unbounded instinct, disorder, intoxication, whimsy. Which is hard on celebrities as they age. If they are lucky, they let go of the youthful side and become the shadow reverse of the puer, the senex (wise woman or man, wizard), characterized by discipline, control, responsibility, rationality, order. Bowie took on the years with style and joy, growing in strength of character, while still remaining connected to the joy and freedom of creative impulse.
Perhaps the refusal to remain the eternal youth is one of the things about Bowie that rose him up from the crowd and made him so unique. After his initial years of fame and popularity, he took a break to connect with himself. He set aside the Ziggy character, and went to a place (Berlin) where he could kick the drugs, escape the fame, and return to the well of his own authentic creativity, bringing forth an entirely new expression of musical possibility. This was not his first period of reinvention, and it wouldn’t be the last. I wonder about the inner thread of connection to sense of self and purpose that runs through the timeline of his life. What might it feel like?
The aspect of reinventing himself over and over is something that many have admired about Bowie. I admire his willingness to give up the fame, turn away from people’s expectations, and do what was true to his heart. He was willing to leave all he had gained behind, but that’s not how it went down, since his reinventions continually succeeded, with his popularity and legend growing throughout his life.
