You are ever so fond of that randy pirate, Adam Ant. What about me, the Peacock Prince? It’s about time my Visage popped up around here. I am ready to share with you my fabulous hat-pin pearls of wisdom. And darling, I have lived. When I ran the Blitz you could only get in if you had charm beaded on your brow and a copy of Proust in your bedazzled knickers. I have also promoted parties in Ibiza, done more heroin than you have had hamburgers, and got busted shoplifting a tent. And I don’t even like to go camping. So profit from my advice, babies, and remember, the Damned Don’t Cry.
Dear Steve Strange,
A friend of mine was laid off a year ago and she never has any money to go out. At first, I generously offered to cover her. A drink here and there, her share of dinner. Nothing to win me any awards. She is making a solid effort to find a job but after a year, the “Susan tax” has become burdensome. I feel bad about cutting her off, leaving her perpetually at home with want ads and eggs for dinner. But I have my own bills to pay and besides I want to save up to go to the Caribbean this winter.
Far be it for me to begrudge anyone their days in the sun. When I was still riding around London in stretch limos, sharpening my fairy boots on Boy George’s insolent bottom and rinsing the cocaine from my teeth with additional cocaine, I would long for periods of sun and frolic. F#$% your friend. Charity begins at home, let it end at foreign shores. Also, your andogyny is intriguing here. I think my schedule is pretty free in February.
love, Steve Strange