Back to Black

In April 1993, I was already going through my own personal hell. Events unfolding had just pushed me... sorry SHOVED me off a precipice that would require years to recover from but I didn't know that yet. I was standing on the stairs at a boutique I was doing wardrobing and buying for when the news came over the radio that Kurt Cobain had been found dead. Everything stopped and I stood paralyzed not able to take in and process what I'd just heard. I remember feeling like someone had just punched me in the ribs - hard - and I was winded. Getting enough breath back to speak, I asked an equally shocked co worker if they had just said what I thought they said.

That night, I went to a friends house and the group of 7 or so of us just sat in stunned silence watching Much Music who had been covering the event since announcing it earlier. After Erica Ehm started making mistakes on simple details like how many albums Nirvana had released, we left and went to a pub around the corner and had quite a few drinks.

To this day, if I head "All Apologies" I am usually reduced to tears. For most Gen Xers, he was our John Lennon.

Fast forwarding to early 2004, I am engaged and one of the things my future brother in law sends is a copy of a CD by an Amy Winehouse called "Frank". It had been ten years since I'd been excited about a new musician. Not anything like I normally listened to, it spoke to me and I'd crank it and sing along at the top of my lungs. The day Back to Black was released, I had my copy soon after the store opened and I was blown away. There are several tracks I love on it but my hands down favourite was Back to Black. LOVED the video - black and white had always spoken to me with it's detail, shadows and crisp lines.

In the video, she is burying her broken heart. It plays like a funeral you'd see in Britain and is by far one of the most beautiful videos on my favourites list. Her make up, hair and clothes spoke to the style hungry design student in me... a huge fuck you to mainstream and expected and to me, this was exactly what was needed in music and fashion at this point.

She met her Blake and seemed to fall into a wild kind of love you first experience when you're young and haven't had your heart beaten down a few times. He was her soul mate at the time and by the way they looked at each other, you knew that it was mutual. He introduced her to crack and cocaine. He loved her THAT much.

At first, the press seemed to jump on the old heroin chic bandwagon of years before and any photo of her would show how wonderfully skinny she was becoming. It was funny to them... go to rehab? No no no. What's funnier than that, right?

The thing is, she DID go to rehab. In fact, she was in rehab when she won her Grammy. After being granted permission to leave and perform for the Grammys via satellite, she was shoved on stage, propped up likely shot up and made to perform. Her reaction to winning artist of the year was genuine and fresh. I sat and cried happy tears.

Then the bottom fell out and suddenly, heroin chic was not so chic any more. As if the media needed reminding there is NOTHING chic about being that addicted or looking like that... nope... all of a sudden any unflattering photo of Amy was worth more than a flattering shot. Fabulous. Just what a struggling addict needs... another blow to the self esteem.

All of a sudden, Blake filed for divorce and she was falling farther down the rabbit hole but this time, Wonderland didn't exist.

My mobile phone went off in the middle of a 'look around' trip to Toys R Us. It simply said "BBC is saying Amy Winehouse was found dead" from my husband. I froze. This was too familiar, suddenly. I literally could not move. I could feel the lump in my throat growing and I looked around the store and saw people going on about their day not knowing she was gone. Knowing my husband was likely busy, I texted one of my best friends who had internet on her phone at work to please check to see if this was true. Confirmed. I needed to leave.

"Why are you crying, Mommy?" I told my two girls that Amy Winehouse had died. "why?" Why indeed.

Over the next two days, I witnessed a huge amount of vile opinions and lack of compassion. I got sick of seeing "she deserved it" " it was obvious, a matter of time" and the holier than thou crowd telling the rest of us it was a lesson to just say no..., like that lesson worked the first time. People with Buddhas as their profile pics on facebook were proudly declaring their lack of compassion... it wasn't a tragedy. Like I argued on a friend's status... my cousin died at 20 from an overdose. Three times in rehab. Do YOU want to call his parents, sister and brother and tell them it's not a tragedy? I'll more than oblige you with the number. I dare you. No one took me up on the dare. Big surprise.

No I didn't know Amy personally. I wasn't that lucky... or maybe I was. How much her family and friends have felt all these years knowing there was nothing they could to to help her other than going through the motions of attempting to get her to accept help. The addiction wasn't going to let that happen though. The addiction owned her and she wasn't making any decisions without checking with it first. I didn't know her yet I am heartbroken. Too young, too talented, too under appreciated to go yet. But she IS gone and yes it IS a tragedy.

Back to black. Rest well Amy and if there are such things as choirs of angels, show them how it's done.