A year on...

Overheard in New York on 10 January, 2017.
One side of a mobile phone conversation.
Union Square.

So this was weird… I was in the Strand bookstore, just down the block from here, and I was browsing the stacks, you know, and I was looking at an old paperback copy of Nineteen Eighty-Four… No, I’ve never read it. So I was flicking through it, and this guy next to me looks over and says, “Great book, that,” and I look up and nod, and he smiles and says, “Seriously, if you’ve never read it, you should. That’s on my list of the top 100 books.” So I smile back and tell him I’ll buy it for sure, and we talk for a while. He tells me he’s a regular at the Strand, comes here all the time. A real nice guy, you know? …. I don’t know, somewhere in his sixties I guess. Sharp dresser. Anyway, I go to pay for the book, and the guy behind the counter says, “Ah, George Orwell, a classic!” and I say, “Yeah, it was recommended to me by one of your regular customers I just met,” and the guy says, “Oh yeah, who was that?” and I said, “Nice guy, glasses, wearing a cap, and I noticed he was carrying a Greek newspaper, which was strange, because he sounded like a Brit,” and the guy behind the counter just went white as a sheet and looked at me like I came from Mars… I know, right?

The Night David Bowie Stuck His Tongue Out At Me

David Bowie, looking effortlessly cool, as always.

I never 'met' David Bowie, but he did stick his tongue out at me once. I saw him play live three times. The third time was the best: on the Earthling tour, at the Shepherd's Bush Empire, in London. My trusty copy of The Complete David Bowie by Nicholas Pegg tells me that it would have been either the 11th or 12th of August, 1997 (I can't remember which, now). That's a small venue, especially for someone of Bowie's stature - the capacity is about 2,000. Even better, I was right up next to the stage: the balcony/circle at the Empire curves right around the side of the stage, and I was up there, stage left, mere feet away from the action down below. As I remember it, Bowie strolled on strumming an acoustic guitar for the opening number, Quicksand, and I, somewhat beside myself with excitement, simply pointed down at him, a massive grin on my face. "You're David Bowie! The actual real David Bowie!" I thought to myself. Bowie caught my eye, proper full-on eye contact, and stuck his tongue out, Einstein style, right at me, as if to say, "I know! I'm David Bowie! Good, innit!"

As I said, I can't remember which night I went, but there's a 50% chance it all happened seconds before the picture on this audience video (from the 12th) comes into focus...

RIP, Mr Bowie. You will be sorely missed. In know it's been widely quoted, but it's worth repeating Dean Podesta's (not Simon Pegg's) tweet:

If you're ever sad, just remember the world is 4.543 billion years old and you somehow managed to exist at the same time as David Bowie.

Not for sale promotional books for Hotels No.1:

Icons at the Pump Room

I have two books that I intend to sell which can be described as 'not for sale promotional books produced for hotels', so hey presto, my first series of linked posts! Try not to get too excited.

I've actually got various books which were created as promotional items, and never intended for sale. They don't have prices on the back, or ISBNs, and some of them are printed to a very high standard: one title I have, an illustrated history of a tea company which was originally given away to shareholders, has a quarter cloth binding, and even a full cloth slipcase.

This week's book is not quite as posh as that; it's a paperback, but printed on nice thick matte paper, and it's full of nothing but black and white photos of, yes, Icons.

For decades, the Pump Room at the Ambassador East Hotel in Chicago was the restaurant/bar where all the celebrities would go when they were in town. This collection of press and publicity photos of the great and the good, all pictured in the Pump Room or elesewhere in the hotel, was printed last year, and sent to the press to mark the reopening of the fabled venue at what is now The Public Hotel (which looks rather lovely, but rather expensive). 

I've no idea how many copies were printed, but I'd be surprised if it was more than a few hundred. Only a handful have made their way into the secondary market in the US (where the asking price is $30-$45), and currently none (other than this one) are on sale in the UK. I found this copy in a second hand book shop in Brixton. Perhaps it was sent to a journalist at a UK-based travel magazine or supplement. Who knows, but like the vast majority of such promotional efforts, it was evidently discarded pretty quickly by its recipient, who probably gets piles of PR tat every week.

This book ain't tat though; it's great. It's about 150 pages of full bleed photos, all of them unfamiliar, and some of them absolute corkers. How about this one of a very young and utterly luminous Sigourney Weaver...

Then there's a spread featuring two of the cooler human beings ever to have walked the Earth:

This is a good one of some of the Brat Pack in their pomp:

Janet Leigh and Tony Curtis back when they were King and Queen of Hollywood:

... and Dustin Hoffman, mucking about in a hotel porter's hat:

In fact, thanks to this this site, here are thumbnails of a bunch of the photos in the book. How many Icons can you identify?

Stay tuned for the second and last entry in this captivating 'not for sale promotional books produced for hotels' series, a title which manages to shed light on both Russell Crowe's daily habits and Boba Fett's family...