There we were, the four of us, ordering dinner. I hadn’t a clue about much, how things were going to proceed, or who was going to show up next, yet it was intoxicating. I was sitting at the table with Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones, sneezing all over him! As clueless as I was back then, I never put the music and the face together. I know I am the only one in the Universe who didn’t associate Mick with, well, MICK. I knew Mick Jagger was a big rocker or “something like that,” as I heard his name all over the place, but I simply did not know he WAS the Rolling Stones! Yet, the ignorance oozing from my pores seemed to be attractive to him. He was intrigued by the fact that I didn’t know the first thing about his life; I even asked him what city in the USA he was from. This killed the rest of the people around us. D’oh! You see, I was more of a movie enthusiast. I would have probably recognized Robert Redford or Kevin Costner, but that would have exhausted my horizon.

(Weeks after my once-in-a-lifetime dinner with the biggest rock star in the history of Mankind my friend picked me up in her car and the Rolling Stones’ music was on the radio. She screamed out: “Hey, it is your boyfriend!” “What boyfriend?” I asked. “This is Mick Jagger!” she yelled. “Oh, my God! This is the guy???” I roared out mortified. I realized in that moment that I must have been born an alien and then forgot to convert into a civilized being.)

Back in the restaurant, Mick and I had a very enchanting and lovely conversation. It turned out that we were both economists. As the evening passed, Mick surprised me with his sweet, kind, and engaging personality. All those sensational articles on how he stares at women’s boobs and other creative inventions are just hogwash. He is an intelligent, sharp, courteous, old-fashioned and classy guy who is extremely polite. He is down-to-earth yet charismatic; sort of a kindred spirit. There was something humble about him. And I couldn’t help but notice the old shirt he was wearing, which looked to be laundered more times than the number of breaths I took since my birth.

We all headed back to the hotel and me, being my silly self, still fuzzy about everything, said good night, hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door and passed out. The next day, Socialite looked at me as if I had Mad Cow Disease: “Are you out of your mind? Mick was knocking on your door the whole night!” “Oh.” I said, “I had gone to sleep.” Is that not what you do when the hottest guy on the planet wants to spend time with you?

On my way back to New York, the airline lost my reservation. In the midst of my personal milieu, I noticed the airport was adorned in the most extravagant decoration. It turned out to be a tribute to Princess Diana’s birthday. Sharing a birthday with such a royal icon is nothing less than the most honorable coincidence. Having had a big mouth since kindergarten, I made sure the airport people were clear on the fact that I, too, was having my birthday, and this special day did not seem to go well with the lost ticket scenario at all. I needed my seat! My vivid display worked out quite well, as they put me in first class and overdosed me on chocolate and champagne until I was drunk enough to fall asleep. Life was once more a celebration! Although this was American Airlines, God bless them, I almost forgave the French by the time I landed at Kennedy Airport. Almost.

Once back in New York, I only had a day to get my things together for a flight to Los Angeles. Upon checking into the Château Marmont, I met a British producer who invited me to the Whiskey Lounge. It was only years later that I found out he had dated Elizabeth Hurley. Well, blowing him off may not have been the smartest choice I’ve ever made, not because she dated him, but because he was cute, handsome and entertaining. As we chatted at the Whisky Lounge, in walks Don Johnson heading over to a table where…wait a minute…sits Mick Jagger? I walked close enough to rule out hallucination. Mick noticed me, interrupts his conversation with Don and walks on top of the table to get to me? After his acrobatic move, I asked him if he was stalking me. Amused by my dire question, he told me he was staying at the Sunset Marquis. “No, no, no… You must stay at the Château Marmont! It’s much better!” The truth bursts out spontaneously. And, from that moment on, there was a whole new chapter that started in my life. The Chateau Marmont became my second home for the most fantastic summer one can ever hope to have (provided that one has a certain degree of risk-taking ability and is fond of frequent adrenaline rushes! Oh, and, believes the unbelievable!)

And, if that sounds as if jet-setting rock ‘n’ roll icon Mike Jagger and I were more than friends, nuh-uh. Never happened. But, this part is to be continued, as there were all kinds of “it cannot be true”, “are you kiddin’?” type of life and death adventures to be had. Harry Cohn, founder of Columbia Studios once said, “If you MUST get into trouble, do it at the Château Marmont.” He was right!

Pages: 1 2