Farewell My Prince

I’m fairly sure Prince would be far from impressed with my present dishevelled state of grief – smudged purple eyeliner around the peepholes, my torn Piano and Microphone T-shirt falling off one shoulder teamed with Eiffel tower print pyjama pants, and sipping the last of a bottle of Mumm Rouge Champagne while listening to his illustrious music played marathon style on Double J and surrounded with tear-stained tissues and newspapers – hungry, only to discover more. Continue reading

( In About Town, Life | | 2 Replies )

Prince – We Got the Look

Getting ready with Nadja, like anything involving my dear friend, is always somewhat of an event – theatre if you will. And Friday, for the Prince concert was no exception. After a lengthy appointment at the local salon where we got our hair did – old-school wet-set under a dryer for an eternity for maximum bounce, we started procedures somewhat late. Of course, someone (me) prematurely opened a bottle of Champagne and put on the movie Purple Rain, so naturally we missed our 6pm pick-up (well, you can hardly rush cobalt-blue eyeliner or the application of a strip lash). And not only is there always meticulous attention to detail with hair and make-up when getting ready with Nadj (we are both in the biz) there is also the obligatory pre-event photoshoot that she directs with with Testino precision but then entrusts brave Hub to execute. Continue reading

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“I never wanted to be your weekend lover…” Prince is in town. And it’s high time – eye mean nine years between drinks – eye could barely wait a second longer.

Prince evokes so many memories for me… I remember coping with the horror of being a teenager and cohabiting with my parents by retreating to my room, and in front of the mirrored wardrobe, performing my angsty “no-one-understands-me-except-Prince” dance to “When Doves Cry”. I also remember when my boyfriend wrote me love notes all over my “Sign O The Times” albums, which I then, painted over when we broke up. And then there was the horrendous fight with my father when, in front of my very eyes, he snapped my beloved “Love Sexy” album to pieces. Every break-up had the soundtrack of “The Beautiful Ones” or “Adore”. Continue reading

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