|Tribute to Bowie from a couple of years ago|
We’re torn between having a quiet catching up time after our summer hols and keeping busy in order to ward off presentiments about results day. But a treat that we booked back in April just came up – the David Bowie Exhibition at the V&A.
David Bowie was the soundtrack to my teen years – my brother idolised him and played him constantly. I always liked Bowie but was not passionately smitten. Nevertheless, I wore out my red shoes dancing the blues.
Nowadays, Bowie still pulses through my bedroom wall. This time however, it is Perran who is playing the albums, and he has been waiting patiently for his trip to the V&A.
We had difficulty getting tickets at all, but finally achieved an evening slot in this, the final week of the show. It was a very cool exhibition with a sound track fading in and out and a tension between covering Bowie by theme (clothes design, acting career, song lyrics) and by period (Ziggy Stardust, Berlin). The fashion, the make-up and the art were fabulous, but most of all, the music. Perran was completely absorbed by the whole experience, and aged fifty, I have finally decided who my teen idol is – Bowie.