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Oh to be Jodie Foster laying on Michael Hutchence. [x]

Born on this day: decadent and charismatic German-Italian actress, model, scene-maker, style icon, “Lady Rolling Stone” and ultimate rock chick Anita Pallenberg (6 April 1942 – 13 June 2017). Pallenberg was an alluring occasional presence in art-y bohemian nightlife in early 1990s London. I recall her DJ’ing at the Horse Hospital once, and coming face to face with her when I opened the bathroom door (“I always need to pee!” she cackled). But before that, buried in the listings of Time Out magazine (in the pre-internet days when it was a dense essential bible that we all relied on), I read about a screening of Pallenberg’s old home movies in East London. It announced she would be present, possibly hosting or emceeing. The venue was a palatial industrial loft in Shoreditch (possibly someone’s apartment), just before gentrification went full tilt boogie there. I sat alone in the back and overheard people conferring that a vintage Cadillac had been dispatched to collect Anita. She arrived late and alone - and sat next to me! Pallenberg – looking just like she did in that 1995 Calvin Klein ad by Steven Meisel with that other ravaged countercultural survivor Joe Dallesandro – radiated elegantly ruined glamour. I never got to meet Nico, but this was a very respectable equivalent. We made small talk. As Pallenberg’s friend Marianne Faithfull describes in her autobiography, “She spoke in a baffling dada hipsterese. An outlandish Italo-German-Cockney slang that mangled her syntax into surreal fragments.” Pallenberg glugged red wine and chain-smoked throughout (there’s a theory she was one of the inspirations for Patsy Stone in Absolutely Fabulous). She also kept up a running commentary on what was happening onscreen (mostly images of herself – clad in Ossie Clark and vintage finery – and Keith Richards in the late sixties cavorting on their jet-set travels). At one point, things turned intimate – a seemingly post-coital Anita and Keef canoodling in bed together. The camera zoomed in on her naked breast. “That’s my neeeple,” she declared in her gravelly Marlene Dietrich voice. I can’t wait to see the upcoming documentary Catching Fire: The Story of Anita Pallenberg. Portrait of Pallenberg by Michael Cooper, 1967.