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Category Archives: Chanel Bonfire

La Grenouille

October 7, 2013

La Grenouille 3 East 52nd Street

The number of things my mother Georgann Rea did right as a mother could be counted on one hand with fingers to spare (for cocktail rings probably) but one of them was taking Robbie and me, at seven, eight and nine years old, to restaurants — very very good restaurants.

Her role as a young, glamorous trophy wife to a wealthy older man (my stepfather Oliver Rea) demanded she be seen in all the best places and sometimes with children in tow to prove that she was not just some piece of white trash with great figure and a certain je ne sais quoi men found irresistible.

And while normally she was not above using threats of violence, destruction of prized possessions or limiting visits with our father to get us to do things she wanted and behave as she saw fit, none of these tactics was necessary at places like La Grenouille.

Despite its funny name–“Frog? Why would you name a restaurant frog!?” –the exquisite, jewel box of a restaurant with its elegant patrons and severe waiters demanded decorum even from little girls who may have spent the morning digging for worms in Central Park or running around the apartment screaming like wild animals (provided Mother was out which, of course, she almost always was).

Naturally, all of the hushed politeness and pretty table settings didn’t stop me from trying to order a hot dog. But it did make hearing that that would not be possible from the handsome waiter not so bad and trying Clams Corsini even better and realizing that a chocolate souffle makes even the most wonderful chocolate cake seem like a brownie the best of all.

La Grenouille was opened in 1962 by Charles Masson and is one of the few temples of classic French cuisine from its mid-50s to early-70s heyday left in New York City. Charles McGrath did a wonderful piece on it in the September 2008 issue of Vanity Fair and you may follow the link to read it.

http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/features/2008/09/grenouille200809

Ending at Annabel’s

October 4, 2013

Annabel’s

44 Berkeley Square, London

Our tour of Mother’s ’70s London art/society/music life ends this week, fittingly, at Annabel’s the members only nightclub and disco in the basement of the Clermont Club (a casino) where many of Mother’s evenings with Marian and Silvio and members of her ex-pat moms crew ended. The club was founded in 1963 by Mark Birley and named after his then wife Lady Annabel Vane-Tempest-Stewart. It is fifty years old this year and apparently still going strong–drawing the likes of Lady Gaga, Tom Cruise and Brian Ferry just as it once drew Princess Anne, Frank Sinatra, Aristotle Onasis, Ray Charles, Ella Fitzgerald and Tina Turner. It was exactly the kind of place Mother loved and in London in the 70s being a beautiful young American divorcee with money and some talent was all it took to get her in. The expat community was open to Mother in a way society in New York wasn’t and she really flourished there.

Marion Montgomery & Mother

October 2, 2013

Mother’s friend, singer Marion Montgomery doing “Close Your Eyes” with Dudley Moore on piano.

In London Mother turned from writing poetry to writing songs with her new friend and fellow expat Marian (later changed to Marion) Montgomery. Marion knew where Mother was coming from. She’d been born Maud Runnells in Natchez, Mississippi, and got the hell out of there as soon as she could and started singing in clubs in Atlanta. Later, at a gig in Chicago, Peggy Lee saw her and convinced Capitol Records to sign her. In 1965 she went to London to sing with John Dankworth (later Cleo Laine’s husband) and fell in love with English pianist, musical director, (and arranger for Englebert Humperdink) Laurie Holloway. The two married and became well known in the British jazz and caberet scene. Mother met Marian at a party and the two began writing songs together. One, “The Summer House”, Marion sang live on the BBC. Another was used in Silvio Narizzano’s (Georgy Girl) film Bloodbath. More on that tomorrow!

Picture of Wendy Rea

October 1, 2013

Wendy Rea by Pedro Menocal

Pedro Menocal, Cuban-born portraitist to high society (and their horses), was in London in 1972 when he did Mother’s portrait (featured on the cover of Chanel). He had done our, by then ,ex-stepbrother’s and ex-stepsisters’ portraits in New York so Mother had him do ours as well — me at twelve and Robbie at eleven. It was during the phase between my stepfather Oliver Rea and Mother when they were happily living apart but kind of falling in love all over again. Mother sent a note to The American School and told them Robbie and I were to be called Wendy and Robin Rea in an effort to further lock her self in with Oliver. I supposed having our portraits done by the same artist who had done our stepfather’s other children was another way of strengthening the bond. I would be officially known as Wendy Rea until I was twenty and changed my name back.

We Interrupt Boston Rock Week for…

September 27, 2013

A quick reminder that if you’re going to be in Southern California this weekend, I’ll be at the fabulous West Hollywood Book Fair on Sunday! I’m on a great memoir panel at 1:30PM and will be available afterward to talk and sign copies of Chanel Bonfire which will also be available for purchase!

Now back to Boston Rock Week for a brief mention of…

Oedipus (aka Edward Hyson)

He was the world’s first punk rock dj. He started with a punk show at MIT (WTBS now WMBR) in 1975 — the first in the country. And then in 1977 convinced WBCN to hire him. He had pink hair when I met him through Amy (Wachtel aka The Night Nurse) when she was interning at the station and renting a room from my mother and seemed at the time wise and mysterious. He turned out to be neither but he did change radio airplay in Boston and–probably through the influence of thousands of college students returning to their hometowns all over the states–all over the country.

HOPE TO SEE YOU SUNDAY AT THE WEST HOLLYWOOD BOOK FAIR! 1:30 PM

Go to: http://www.westhollywoodbookfair.org/ for all the info!

Saturday Night Fever: The Punk vs Disco Riot in Kenmore Square

September 26, 2013

Lucifer the Kenmore Square Disco in the Blizzard of ’78.

The Rat on the opposite side of the street and the opposite side of musical world.

While we were shaving and banging our heads and stomping on the floor in our Doc Marten boots at the Rat, a completely different crew of tough guys and girls in silk shirts, tight bell bottom pants and slinky dresses with spiked heels were John Travolta-ing across Kenmore Square at Lucifer’s Disco re-enacting scenes from “Saturday Night Fever”.

One night (really very early morning) in 1979 in the no man’s land of the traffic island on Commonwealth Avenue, somebody’s Doc Marten’s stepped on somebody else’s heels and a riot broke out. Punks poured out of the Rat and Tonys and Tinas ran from Lucifers and spent about an hour bashing heads and spilling blood. It was a literal clash of cultures that was not, because this was Boston in the 70s, broken up by the police but simply exhausted itself once it seemed all the oxygen in the hot night air had been sucked away.

It was probably more complicated too than musical choice and clothing styles. It’s not much of a reach to say that the majority of the punks were middle and upper-middle class college kids or college drop-outs exercising the demons of their suburban childhoods while the majority of the disco kids were working class high school grads or first generation college students trying on the chic clothes and sophisticated dancing styles being broadcast from Studio 54 in New York.

I was there the night of riot in my punked out Sheena look with a number of other BU students. Somebody could have been taking notes for a pretty kick-ass sociology dissertation. Not me, of course, because as we all know, my mind was very much elsewhere at the time.

The Night Nurse

September 25, 2013

Amy “Night Nurse” Wachtel

My friend Amy (featured in Chanel Bonfire) was the midwife for my introduction to the Boston music scene and, according to Mother, to my “fucking rock-n-roll lifestyle”. We met at BU and even though we both left, Amy for Emerson and me for my job at the nuthouse aka home in Belmont, we’ve remained friends all these years. Amy was interning at WBCN while she was at BU and took me to every club and concert she could get on the list for. She introduced me to Oedipus, the world’s first punk rock dj and through him and his show, Madness and my other lifelong music friend, sax player, Lee Thompson. Amy’s never left the music scene. She lives in New York now and has a regular reggae show on Radio Lily which broadcasts live from Miss Lily’s Variety and Bake Shop and Melvin’s Juice Box at 130 W. Houston St. (at Sullivan) in New York City. Check the schedule and go see her! Or listen on line or download a podcast.

http://www.mixcloud.com/dubwisegaragecollection/the-night-nurse-rockers-arena-radio-lily-broadcast-6-17-2013/

Mission of Burma

September 24, 2013

That’s When I Reach For My Revolver

One of the biggest bands in the Boston live music scene in the late 70s was Mission of Burma. I can’t remember how many times I saw them. In 1979 the MIT college radio station played their song “Peking Spring” more than any other. They were a favorite of Boston Rock the way cool local magazine, a kind of combination of the Village Voice and Rolling Stone and far more important in Boston than either. If The Rat was our church, then Boston Rock was our bible. It was a wonderful crazy scene. You can also go back to my February 26th post for a video of Human Sexual Response.

The Rat

September 23, 2013

The Rat

Located at 528 Commonwealth Avenue in Kenmore Square, Boston near BU and open from 1974 to 1997, The Rathskeller or The Rat was the cradle of the legendary Boston Rock scene and THE venue for punk and new wave in New England. After my Stevie Nicks gypsy phase, I cut off all my hair, wore leather and t-shirts and made the scene at The Rat. I was there the night the disco club across the street emptied out and the punks and disco dancers rumbled on Commonwealth. Standing in the median, waiting for a chance to bolt through traffic, guys in cars yelled, “Sheena!” at me after the Ramone’s song. I saw a lot of bands there including the Cars and Mission of Burma. But the one that changed my life was Human Sexual Response.

Andrew Szava-Kovats has made a documentary “Let’s go to The Rat”.

Look for it.

For Your Pleasure

September 19, 2013

My first album.

Of all the glam bands in all the world, in platform shoes or high heels, Roxy Music was and is my all-time favorite. This album, “For Your Pleasure”, released by Island Records in 1973, was the band’s second and the last featuring Brian Eno. The woman on the cover was lead singer and songwriter Brian Ferry’s girlfriend at the time, transsexual singer and model Amanda Lear. Judi Dench’s voice can be heard at the end of the title track saying, “You don’t ask. You don’t ask why.”

I bought the album with my own money at the WH Smith in Sloane Square and played it until the grooves wore out. That copy is lost now–a casualty of a peripatetic childhood and young adulthood. I may very well have left it in a taxi stuffed into one of the Bloomingdales bags I used to move apartments at a moment’s notice in New York in the early 80s. More of that in the sequel to Chanel which will be coming your way sometime next year from Gallery Books.