Paris and a hit

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I had a French girlfriend whose brother was a banker. He believed in me and invited me to stay with him in Paris while I finished a musical I was writing with another friend. In fact, he backed us and we all ended up being ripped off, but I fell deeply in love with Paris.

At that time all the Parisian men were going for a saturnine look with stubbly chins and Gaulloises in the corners of their mouths, leather jackets, old faded Levis and motorbikes. The women were wearing spray-on BLUE jeans, blouson shirts or skinny jumpers with little chokers - always all black - and patent shoes. Heavily made-up eyes blinked out from under blonde fringes. My image was much the same as those women. I was pretty and thin and doing a lot of modelling for magazines like Melody Maker, Oz and International Times, as well as nude shots and the odd soft-core porn movie to keep the money coming in. I had always looked like a girl, even at school where I was dubbed Shirley Temple by teachers and pupils alike, although I never had an effeminate bone in my body.

While I was in Paris my friend Marek and I made a single from one of the show songs, 'Who Needs Rock and Roll', which went to number one and gave me what felt like unlimited amounts of money.

Click here to read the next section 'The big break that never was'

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