Bowie Mirror Hadden Hall, 1972, Photographer: Mick Rock
When I was seven or so I first encountered the Goblin King. With my older siblings huddled around me, I sat cosily staring up at the box, utterly and instantly enthralled in ‘Labyrinth’ which, frankly, caters to everything I STILL croon wildly over today (fantasy genre / music / gender fluidity)
I still so vividly recall the moment he appeared on screen, and the immediate connection and fascination I felt upon seeing him(?!) in his grey skins and black boots. I had never before encountered a creature like this. Naturally, I knew it was true love, and that my kindergarten boyfriend Steven now meant very little in the grand scheme of my important fairy life. My little wide eyes were glued to the screen in an almost hypnotic fixation. I think a sibling told me to stop inching closer and closer toward the TV as it was distracting. I remember holding my breath and pulling my dressing gown tightly around my tiny frame.
He. Was. MAGIC.
And that, at the ripe age of seven, is how I insightfully concluded what romantic love must be. What it must feel like for teenagers kissing in parks afterhours and formally gross married grownup sorts. Ridiculous? Maybe. But I maintain, every real romantic affair I’ve encountered since I assure you, I’ve felt the very same stir. (I’d like to take this moment to point out my brother thinking that coming to my 21st dressed as said Goblin King, the pinup for my sexual awakening, would be a sweet gesture was actually, unbeknown to him, a very confusing and confronting time for me. But I digress..)
Some short years later, perhaps no more than two, sitting in the car with Mum, a melody trickled through the Tarago’s questionable speaker system. Despite the lack of audio clarity, I felt a distant yet familiar shiver rush up my spine; the same flood of euphoric magic washed over my body like cold lava and I was again, utterly transfixed. When the magic eerily ceased and I returned to planet earth and my body, now rigid and alert in the front seat, the presenters deep, crackly voice mumbled nonchalantly ‘And that was Space Oddity, by David Bowie’.
Bowie. Bowie. Bowie.
I repeated it silently in my head determined to learn more about this encapsulating voice. Another magic offering from the world I was still getting to know and hadn’t found my feet in just yet. I can’t remember how it all fell into place exactly, I was only ten or so, but when the realisation occurred that MY Goblin King and the man with the moon magic voice on the radio was one and the same, it blew my tiny mind into a million star dust pieces. And that was it.
From that day on my relationship (Yes, relationship) with Bowie has been a constant and a joy. A bold and proud obsession that has made birthday gifting very simple for those that know me well. My twenty plus year exploration into his art and work on all platforms has inspired me in almost every way, connected however loosely to so many creative pursuits and concepts and perhaps even fashion sense on more than one occasion. He also reminded me it was okay to be different. That outside my suburban door there was a world full of wonder. That being odd, or unusual could even be celebrated.
I am so beyond grateful that I’ve seen him perform in my lifetime, and thrilled that he was here on planet earth for the release date of his new record, which I had the joy of listening to just this weekend past, and now feel I understand on a whole other level.
Planet earth is blue, and there’s nothing I can do.
All my love to you my fae blooded Starman. Thank you for sharing your magic with the world, and inspiring pixie children like me across the hazy globe.
Indeed, you blew my mind. ~.. *
Image source unknown