alvin stardust

Alvin Stardust was in my local Tesco this morning, in negotiation with his young daughter over some purchase or other like many other Saturday shopping dads. He’d wisely left the black leather outfit in the wardrobe, preferring to blend in with sporty casual and there was a glaring absence of glove on his microphone wielding hand as he guided the trolley along the central isle.

Seeing him, seemingly happy to be going about the everyday business of a life more ordinary, reminded me of previous shopping encounters with celebrities of rock and pop.
I once brushed shoulders with Morrissey in the Kensington High Street branch of M&S as he browsed the rail of gentlemen’s belts, occasionally holding one aloft for closer inspection. I left him there in decision mode, for all I know silently running through potential lyrics for ‘Shoplifters Of The World Unite’.

Then there was Noel Gallagher trailing after his then missus Meg, who appeared to have been on a mission to clear Nike Town on New York’s 57th Street of ladies trainers. Poor Noel followed her to the cash desk, a column of boxes balanced under the chin down to cupped hands located just above his knees. As Meg’s own hands were already full of bulging bags of previous purchases I can only assume it was left to the sales clerk to relieve Noel of his burden, leaving him free to access the wallet in his back pocket.

It was also in New York that I happened upon composer Laurie Anderson in the Broadway branch of homeware store Crate and Barrel, in her basket a few domestic necessities for the Reed household. Hubby Lou had presumably chosen to skip a trip to the stores on this occasion. Maybe he’d had to wait in for the man.

A couple that were very much together on a shopping expedition when I encountered them back in the late 60’s, were Keith Richards and Anita Pallenberg. With their own exotic take on a basket on wheels in the shape of an antique Victorian pram, they appeared as a reflection in the window of Mr Freedom, a clothes boutique in the King’s Road. Turning around, I managed to peek into the pram as they passed me by to push open the door. All it appeared to contain was an oversized feather boa. I recall Keith wearing a knee length velvet coat and having the whitest face I’d ever seen, framed by jet black hair. Anita wore swishy satin and a bipperty-bopperty hat. At the time, even David Bowie would have been pushed to do better than that. A year or so later I also spotted Mick Jagger on the same street, all alone, speedily weaving his way through throngs of Saturday afternoon shoppers and tourists. Probably on his way to the Chelsea Drugstore to share a cherry red soda with Mr Jimmy. Either that or he was popping out to Boots for some aspirin.

Finally there was Phil Collins in my local High Street on Christmas Eve. When our eyes met, there was a fleeting recognition of being in the same predicament. Him; yes I know you know me, but please don’t say or do anything to hold me up, I’m in a last minute shopping emergency situation. Me; yes I know you know I know you, but even if I liked your music I wouldn’t stop now to say or do anything to hold myself up, as I’m in a last minute shopping emergency situation.