Quite possibly one of the earliest memories I have is of Ms Deborah Harry. In my vague and distant memories she was this other-worldly blonde creature in black leather pants, a cross between a pout and a sneer on her face, with black sunglasses covering her eyes.
I’ve no idea where the memory comes from or how accurate it is, and in fact my young mind may well have taken her face, which was everywhere back then, and somehow combined it with the shiny high waisted disco pants that were also everywhere, and filed it for eternity under the name Debbie Harry. Regardless of the origin, that notion of her was seared on my brain forever more, making her both my first rock chick crush as well as my first style icon long before I ever knew what such words even meant.
She was fearless, fierce, audacious, and punk. That hair was the thing that imprinted itself in your brain, then there were the blood red lips and of course the outfits put together in ways that had never been thought of before.
But more than anything it was her attitude, her cool-ness, which is what I have loved for four decades.
I’ll leave the final word with the 71 year old legend herself: