New York 76'

Zandra was not known for her generosity, she always served cabbage at her dinner parties and her vegetarian menu would have only pleased a rabbit. So it was no surprise to me that I had to pay my own air-fare to New York, she promised me that she would look after the accommodation, was it to be the Plaza, I doubted it.

On our arrival in New York Zandra and myself were deposited by yellow taxi to her friends house, artist Barbara Nessim. An attractive New York artist who dressed in long dark robes and who's apartment looked like a 50's junk shop. She was warm and welcoming, her little drawings of faces floating in clouded skies had been published in numerous publications and where pasted over the walls of her kitchen studio. The couch was my bed that night but I was assured we were moving to a friends house in Greenwich Village who had a spare room for us. 

Early the next morning, after a restless nights sleep we arrived a the Village Manor, an old and ramshackle Brownstone Terrace, its owner, Michael Malce didn't seem over pleased to see us, we were shown to our rooms. The rooms, I say rooms as there was one with a bathroom, which was lavishly decorated with one single bed manufactured in the 40's of iron, it had been painted many times over the years and had just as many times peeled, the mattress of straw was about 3 inches thick, the floor was unpolished bare wood, a very old little round wooden table which held an old bakelite radio and curtains that were little more than imitation lace threads.

The bathroom tap leaked, as I pondered on the  luxury accommodation I asked Zandra where I was to sleep as it was obvious that the bed was hers, "The floor Darling" was her reply, "On bare Boards" I answered, "She said no darling, you can lay down a pile of Zandra Rhodes Crinolines, they will make a good mattress" "But these are to be shown tomorrow at Bloomingdales" was my horrified answer, " Darling they won't need to much ironing after you've slept on them" Well it was definitely not the Plaza, would I ever learn to stop trusting the mean, I accepted the situation as a romantic one.

Really I should have known, I had worked with Zandra for a few years now and had never been paid a penny for my Poster Designs or for the many make-ups I had produced for her, her shows or her photographs. I remembered when I first met her and had the opportunity of seeing her studio filled with young workers in an old under heated factory, she had a sign in her tea rooms "All tea bags must be used twice" and in the toilet " Only two leaves of Toilet Paper to be taken with each visit" and the paper I must say was of the industrial variety, that would scratch even the most well used of bottoms.

The next day Zandra and I spent most of the morning preparing for our Bloomingdales visit, I painted Zandra's face, pink squiggles all over the place. She wasn't what you would call pretty, Zandra wanted to stand out, she had a great fear of being part of humanity, she had a fear of being passed by so she dressed always as if she were about to explode. Everything was pink, her hair, her make-up, her lips and of course everything she wore was covered in pink squiggles, she looked a sight.

I dressed that day in black pants, white shoes and jacket and a grey T-Shirt, the only thing that made me look like I was with her was my height (especially next to Zandra, she was only 5ft 1") and the lapels of my jacket which were covered with Zandra Rhodes safety pins, her new form of cheap chic jewellery that were covered in paste diamonds and multicoloured pearls (they cost her about 50 cents apiece and she sold them for $20.)

Well I asked madam where we could get a cab, she said "We'll get the bus love" in the most refined of English accents. I said "looking like this, the bus will have mini buses" "Well I'm not paying for a cab" was her answer. There was no way I was going to head uptown with this pink monster on public transport, so guess who paid for the taxi, her comment was that I had saved her the bus fare.

Bloomingdales was unbelievable, it was like walking in there with the Queen of England, people fell at our feet. We were given an 'escort' while we were in the store, a gentle lady called Ena, you could tell she was a little in awe of Zandra and was quite nervous. As she began to explain what the store had prepared for our visit she was rudely interpreted by this person  who came into our sphere of awareness like a tornado. This woman talked at a thousand miles an hour about her own importance and overpowered  poor Ena.

I observed the total lack consideration given to her fellow work-mate, the image of this woman has always stayed with me as an example of what people become like when greed and the desire for power engulf them.

 

Marvin Gaye LA 79'

I was very excited to be working with Marvin Gaye, I had been working with a young up and coming LA photographer who booked me for the job, we drove together from LA. We were photographing a series of publicity portraits at Marvin's ranch which were commissioned by his record company, Motown Records.

It took a little over an hour to get to the ranch, after being ushered throw a set of large security gates we parked the car and settled around the pool to await Mr Gaye's arrival. I was leaning down to feel the pool waters temperature when I turned to find Marvin standing right next to me and saying that the water was nice and warm.

I must have had the most horrified look on my face for as I stood up I could see Marvin's face was covered in the most hideous milky white peeling layer of skin. He bellowed into laughter and said that he had  on an egg mask and that I didn't have to make him up over a layer of dried egg. It broke the ice and he giggled for about an hour how worried I looked when I saw him.

He was a charming man, warm and very gentle and so pliant to everything the photographer wanted him to do. After shooting a number of pictures around the farm we settled inside his home with his lovely wife and his son and daughter. Marvin sat at the piano, smoked a joint and started to play, he continued to do so for the next two hours. I couldn't believe how fortunate I was to be sitting in Marvin Gaye's lounge room listening to him play his music, so much heart went into the moment and the more stoned he got the deeper he seemed to drift with the sounds he was making.

I sat on the floor enthralled with the moment but his children took a shine to me and before I knew it they were climbing all over me. I loved them, I loved children and adored their attention, eventually the little boy fell asleep in my arms.

As we drove back to LA that evening both the photographer and I agreed that it had been a delightful days work and wouldn't be marvellous if all encounters with celebrities were filled with such joy.

Australia to London 1979

Back to London the contact with Bailey very quickly became intimate and even though at this time he was married to Marie Helvin he was involved physically with many models, including Sue Purdy, Kim, Kelly Le Brock, Kim Harris and others, my relationship with Susie had always been since our first shoot together with Barry Lategan and I know she pushed Bailey and I together.

Marie also liked the way I was making her look, she loved my make-up and continued to ask Bailey to book me for their shoots together. There were many intrigues going on, Susie and Marie never liked each other and because of this there was strong competition between them, I had painted Susie and Marie knew it, she had never seen any of my paintings but continually asked me to paint her portrait. I would smile and say yes I would love to one day but I didn't like her very much, she was very pretentious and lacked warmth I sensed she was trying to be something she wasn't and it irked me.

Bailey on the other hand was so precocious, I loved him and his ways, his eyes sparkled and his great talent bubbled forth. He knew he was good and like most photographers let everyone know, still I suspected a great insecurity in that boyish heart and I think that made me like him even more.

 There were nights when a whole gang of us would go out to dinner, he was always surrounded by young and up and coming photographers, (he liked to have his finger on the pulse and more than once said that none of them could come near him in ability) I think his competitive eye was always looking to see if there was someone to knock him off the top rung of the ladder. We would often go back to his house after dinner and all and sundry would get drunk and stoned, one night Bailey and I sat together for many hours after everyone had crashed out with a bottle of good scotch and discussed philosophy, religion and life, he was a very intelligent man, a man with a great passion for life and for art.

That night he asked me to paint a portrait of his wife Marie, I said you've never seen any of my paintings, he said he didn't need to, he knew talent when he saw it and offered me £3000.00 English pounds, a lot of money in those days. he said he would hand me a £1,000.00 in cash the next week to secure our deal. I had to do it, Marie had asked him and it was to be a birthday gift to her.

He was very demanding and would allude to fits of anger and rage if he wasn't getting what he wanted. I recall a session with Kim Harris and at the time the lead singer of a rising pop group 'The POLICE' called sting, I had to make-up Kim with 60's look, he never told me which 60's look he wanted so I proceeded to recreate a Twiggy look, and after making up sting I took them both down to the studio and Bailey threw a fit, he wanted a Jean Shrimpton make-up not a Twiggy look, so back to the make-up room I went with Kim to wash it off and start again.

Shit I thought, I have to be a psychic make-up artist for this photographer. Sting had not been very friendly and after this episode he was not amused, he hadn't said more than a hello for the first two hours he was there and his silence now fell into a deeper cavern. still it was all in a days work and at the end of it I had made everyone happy, ever my job!