For a little while now (since my book was published), I have become 'that groupie chick' and everyone wants to hear a sordid tale of my dalliances with rock stars. But, truth be told, I think I was chasing them around because deep down I wanted to BE one of them.
Probably my first real femme crush was on Joan Jett, but I loved her because I wanted to BE her. Hell, I still want to be her. Fancy being a global anthem! Pat Benetar was okay for a while but she was a bit rabbity and angst ridden.. And then there was Blondie. She was just so sexy it made my eyes bleed....she was the archetypal bombshell! I couldn't aspire to that because I was not a bombshell, I was a pimply, dorky teenager.
Then out of nowhere, along came Madonna.....uber star....Queen of Pop. She had the goods. Overt sexuality, irreverent Catholicism, trouble, big mouth and she, like me, was narcissistically ambitious. When Madonna Ciccone burst onto our eighties radars, I was in a state of rock and roll tonic-clonic seizure for almost a year, planning ways to become her. I teased up my hair, wore crucifixes, tried to sing and dance in front of my mirror at home where I was dazzling and even did a few stints on the school stage with my band....Our first song was 'Save the Broccoli' because we wanted to be edgy and make a statement with our music too. Such vegan political activists!
Then, being lucky enough to grow up in Australia, we were sent a school-girl rock icon from hell in the form of Chrissie Amphlet, fronting The Divinyls. Madonna was soon forgotten because I was a dark and tortured little rocker and I looked like shite in a midriff top.
For years Chrissie was my hero, even after a bingle in the ladies loos in Kings Cross some forgettable evening in the late eighties..... I am still proud of my on-the-table Chrissie Amphlett impersonation, screaming 'All the Boys in Town!' until the kids tell me to shut-up.
I really did miss my calling. I should have been a rock star and sometimes I still entertain the dream that I might have a second wind and give it a shot. Madonna's still cooking. Joan Jett can still swing a guitar. Forty is the new thirty. There might be a market for mature aged rock chicks....and soon. So I'm getting out the purple fringed boots and the comb and the fluoro lip gloss. If I am telling my daughter that she can be anything she desires with a little belief and hard work....then I should put my money where my mouth is.
I want to be a rock-star......I sure know enough blokes who could be my backing band!!! I'll be way funkier than Susan Boyle and reach out to an audience of women who, like me, go completely mental every-time 'I love Rock n Roll' comes on the radio while we break out the air guitar. ROCK ON SISTERS! It's never to late to rock and roll........(I'll just have to up my dose of calcium supplements for the dodgy knees!)