WALKING BLONDE

Here’s Wayne Koestenbaum writing about Debbie Harry and walking, in My 1980s & Other Essays (and yes as a matter of fact I do think he’s “exaggerating or over-interpreting” but that’s OK).

“Whenever, in the early years of this already compromised century, I’d see Deborah Harry walk along Twenty-Third Street, the block we shared, I’d marvel at her solemn, hieratic pace. She didn’t trudge, march, rush, lope, stroll, or skip. In billowy pants, she led, slowly, with her hips, as if gliding through water. (Once, I remember, she wore army fatigues: couture khakis?) She explored with pilgrim curiosity the spatial zones her body passed through. Each step gestured acceptance toward the sidewalk; you may think I’m exaggerating or over-interpreting, but these memories—the sight of Debbie Harry promenading on Twenty-Third Street—are my possession, and they are not visions that will disappear, or visions whose meanings I can ignore by pretending that it makes no difference how a star’s gait seemed momentous and allegorical to a primed beholder. Harry seemed at home with each step, at home with her feet and her legs as they maneuvered air and pavement.”

Interestingly, it’s extremely hard to find decent photographs that show Debbie Harry walking in the street.  I’ve done my best.  I suspect this is because most photographers were so entranced by her looks that they simply asked her to stand where she was and pose, even when in the street, as in the one below.  Yep, it’s England, yep it’s a Wimpy Bar.