So we were in the back of a van - I can't remember who now, friends at the time, in college- driving across the border into Canada. No passports - it all happened so fast - so we were hiding under blankets, us girls. The boys were braver, driving. In control.
The van was completely reeking from marijuana, I can't imagine what they thought at border control - probably 'let's get this queue moving', because they let us through. There must have been tons of us, that night, leaving America. Crossing the border.
I remember exactly what I was wearing: a fitted, skinny long sleeved tee shirt, no pattern, but all in glitter. It was the most outrageous thing I owned. Wish I had it now. Bowie was playing at a venue in Canada, and no matter what the current trend, I lean towards clean, simple lines, so even my glitter phase was pretty minimalist.
And then the show. A sea of fans - an ocean - all glittered and glam rocked to the nines, and there's Bowie. In a soft, slouchy, dove grey suit.
Oh you Bowie, you, I thought while watching the show. Not that anyone saw, in the darkness, but I was laughing. You sexy Sadie: once again, you've made a fool of everyone.
Posting this today cause I'm home with a fever - missed my favourite yoga class - and discovered that Alan Yentob's iconic documentary on Bowie, Cracked Actor, from the Imagine series, is running on the BBC, just for a few days. And it's brilliant.
Images from the V&a show: Bowie's sketch, my collage.