Jerry Hall was like the reigning supermodel of the Seventies/Early 80s and so iconic, she’s more of an ultra-model. Cancerian of course. She lived with Grace Jones, was discovered sun-bathing on a beach in St Tropez, knew everybody, partied at Studio 54 with Warhol and hung out with Gala and Salvador Dali.
The daughter of a Texan truck driver, she emerged from a hard-hard background to enjoy the fruits of fame, the global art-party scene & rock stars; she never seemed to lose her way, surviving marriage to Mick Jagger and emerging as a beautiful, independent femme in her 50s with plenty of work modelling and acting in theatre.
She never comes across as neurotic but rather always as a woman’s woman and a fierce awesome mother. She says things like “I was having a Feng Shui attack.” Her first ever fashion shoot was with Helmut Newton, her first show was for Yves Saint Laurent. As a teen she took L.S.D, had an epiphany that she had to be a model and flew straight to Paris.
It wasn’t until she took LSD at a high school party that she began to understand her potential. “A boy gave me a quarter of a tab. I didn’t know what it was!” she says. “I actually had never taken drugs and was very nervous. And I never did take drugs [afterward] ever, ever. But I locked myself in the bathroom and spent the whole night staring in the mirror, going, ‘Oh, my God.'” She runs her fingers over the contours of her face. “All of a sudden, I thought, Wow!” And so, a few weeks before her 17th birthday, she flew to Paris. “I sort of had a turning thing. One of those moments where you decide you’re going to do something really wild. And I did it.”