So. This is the day we heard that David Bowie died.

To those of us who were teenagers in the 70s and 80s, this is devastating news. Like hearing about Elvis, or Princess Diana. He was 69, and his last album came out 2 days ago, on his birthday. He was married to one of the most beautiful supermodels, Iman, and father to the wonderful film-maker, Duncan Jones (who was originally called Zowie Bowie, but changed his name for obvious reasons when he grew up into a sensible, well-rounded artist – as his dad also grew up to be, thought it took him years of fascinating experimentation to get there).

He was one of my all-time if-you-could-invite-anyone dinner party guests. (Jennifer Lawrence is another. So’s Malala. And Matt Damon. And Katherine Hepburn and Audrey Hepburn. There are a few …)

RIP David Bowie, writer of Space Oddity, and Heroes, and Fame, and Fashion, and Let’s Dance, and so many of the tracks to my teens. Thank you for the constant inspiration. We’re all in pieces here. We’ll miss you more than you know.

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