It reminds me of a discussion I had when my sister visited town this summer. We were at a bar (shocker!) when we became embroiled in a conversation with this photographer, very old school, who told us about his Studio 54 days (daze?!). He regaled us with some crazy stories, one where he was talking to Diane von Furstenberg and noticed something rustling underneath her skirt. All of a sudden a small woman appeared from the folds, someone to his surprise he totally knew. She was all, casually, “Oh, hi John.” He mentioned some of the other celebs he’d encountered, including Bianca Jagger. We talked about the differences between the fixtures of the heydey of hedonism, the 70’s, and how they comported themselves, versus our current crop of tabloid fodder, which led me to utter, boozily, “See, that’s the difference. Bianca Jagger could have been photographed while being fisted at the club, and she’d still have an air of class.”
And it’s true! What happened to the days when celebrities got out of their cars with their legs together, wearing panties, their look put together? (Hello, Britney!) Sigh. The world will forgive an indiscretion or two if your makeup is flawless and your wardrobe immaculate. And you presented yourself, above all, as a lady. Even in the throes of degeneracy.