I am not sure I will go, but next Monday, the groupie-musician-publicist-actress of the 60’s Cherry Vanilla will discuss her new book ‘Lick me: How I became Cherry Vanilla’ at Booksoup.
Her book, about her wild life through sex, drug, and rock & roll (I know, quite a cliché), reveals she ‘wanted to become a groupie, even though she was already a twenty-six-year-old businesswoman of sorts’. From Kris Kristofferson, to David Bowie, to The Police as her back-up band (Sting was her bass player and Stewart Copeland was her drummer), she has probably tons of rock gossip to tell, as she worked and partied with Andy Warhol and Warren Beatty among so many.
Last week, she hosted a party in Los Angeles, at Chateau Marmont for the launch of her book, and several websites report that she recalled her first sexual exploits with David Bowie, in front of an audience where Angela, Bowie’s wife at the time, was sitting. But Rufus Wainwright, who wrote the forward of her book, sang his cover of ‘Hallelujah’, and Angela was alright with all this.
Cherry seems to incarnate this wildly decadent but irrationally cool image we have of the 60’s-70’s.
Iman already posted a sex-excerpt of her book, so I will give you another one, also about Bowie:
‘David liked my apartment on 20th Street, and he also liked Norman Fisher’s coke, something for which he’d recently acquired an insatiable appetite and for which I had, of course, hooked him up. And since my days were winding down at Mainman, I guess David felt comfortable getting high with me and opening up about anything and everything that was on his mind. He spent many an evening, often an all-nighter, sitting in one of my canary-yellow enameled wicker chairs, doing lines, drinking milk (he never ate at all during this period), and telling me one crazy story after another — Defries and Adolf Hitler were buddies . . . Lou Reed was the devil . . .he himself was from another planet and was being held prisoner on earth — going on and on about power, symbols, communication, music, the occult, Aleister Crowley, and Merlin the Magician. I never did any of David’s coke (and, what’s more, he never offered). I just sat there, smoked my pot, sipped my Café Bustelo, and got totally into his rap. This was probably the period when I was most in love with him.’