If Samantha Stephens could twitch her nose and transport me back to the 1960s, I’d be a happy man. Instead, I’m doing the next best thing – tonight I’m at a 1960s-themed fancy-dress party.
We’re visiting the UK, celebrating our friend Cate’s 50th birthday, in Alfriston. Forget Swinging London, we’re in Swinging Sussex. (No, not that kind of swinging – or, at least, I hope not.)
I adore the sounds of the 1960s. I’m not aware that Cate shares my passion – I think it’s more that she’s a child of the decade.
“I’ll be surprised if any of my French chanteuses of the period get a spin tonight. However, I am hoping to hear some of my favourite Brit girls”
I love the styles of the period too but have never gone for that look myself. Instead, Damon and I have simply bought some nylon Union Jack jackets and equally synthetic Beatles wigs off the internet.
Say no more. At best, we’ll pass as low-rent Mods.
I’ll be surprised if any of my French chanteuses of the period – France Gall, Annie Philippe, Sylvie Vartan and Françoise Hardy – get a spin on the decks tonight. However, I am hoping to hear some of my favourite Brit girls.
Among them is Sandie Shaw. The Dagenham-born beat babe was one of the UK’s most successful singers of the 1960s.
After topping the charts with (There’s) always something there to remind me, bosses at her record label were keen to push her in the rest of Europe. So she re-recorded much of her material in other languages.
Mais tu l’aimes – originally, Girl don’t come – is one of my favourites.
As the coolest of the Brit girl singers, Sandie’s trademark barefoot performances endeared her to the French public.
I’m not sure about going barefoot tonight, but Damon and I will certainly be keen to ditch the nylon jackets and wigs as soon as we can. And probably not just because of the heat.