Category Archives: Wendy Lawless

Picture of Wendy Rea

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.
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Pedro Menocal

This dashing man was Pedro Menocal, the Cuban-born painter who did my mother’s portrait which hangs on the wall of the room on the cover of Chanel Bonfire.  Pedro was born outside of Havana in the country house of his Grandfather, General Mario Menocal.  He was born into a world of privilege (his family owned sugar and rice plantations) and pursued an interest in horses and art leading eventually to the study of architecture at the University of Havana.  Because of trouble with mathematics (I can totally relate) he never completed his studies.  After the revolution, he fled to New York City with his wife Magda and their daughter Magdalena.  It was in New York that he first started drawing and painting professionally, eventually becoming one of the most popular society portratists (and horse painters) of the late 20th Century. In addition to portraits of international financier, John Loeb, the children and horses of mining king, John Englehard, Jr., and the official portrait of first lady, Nancy Reagan, Menocal did Mother’s, my and Robbie’s portraits.  His wife and daughter now live in Mexico City and graciously allowed me to use Mother’s portrait for the cover of Chanel. 

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We Interrupt Boston Rock Week for…

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

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.

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The Night Nurse

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/

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Mission of Burma

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.

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The Rat

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.
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The Underground

Mother would never in a millions years have let us ride the subway in New York.  She never did.  Even with our nannies we would take the bus or Mother would give them cab fare.  But after only a year in London, Robbie and I were riding the Tube or the Underground everywhere — by ourselves or with a pack of other kids from school.  Busses were fun but the Underground was fast and filled with cool people and round and much cheaper than taking a taxi.

And when you’re saving all your money for platform shoes and trips to Biba, that’s an important difference!

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For Your Pleasure

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.

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Platform Shoes!

What was a girl to do in 70s London if she wanted to see a AA rated film and she was only 12 or…
…an X rated film and she was only 14?  Buy the tallest pair of platform shoes she could stand in, of course!

The platform shoe has been around at least as long as the Greeks who used cothurni to raise up important characters on stage.  They were big in Chinese opera and rose again in Europe in the late 16th century.  I first experienced them as a girl when my dad was in the “House of Atreus” at the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis   (more on my and Robbie’s House of Atreus dolls from the Guthrie’s set designer in another post).  But it was in the 1970s when the platform shoe made it’s biggest mark.

For me, Elton John and glam rockers made platform shoes a much desired style accessory.  But trying to score Babycham at the pub and bypass the British film raiting system (U – universal, A – five and older, AA- fourteen and older, and X- eighteen and older) made them a necessity.  

In 1972, Robbie and I and our friends absolutely had to see “Endless Night” the new Hayley Mills horror film.  But it was rated AA and we were only twelve and eleven.  SO with a lot of make-up, stylish clothes and some new pairs of giant platforms, we bluffed our way in.  I seem to recall at least one of us tripping down the aisle.  A couple of years later when American Graffiti hit London it was rated X and once again our platforms were called into service.

That movie ushered in a craze for all things American in London which for us included trying to get into the Hard Rock Cafe.  More on that tomorrow!

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