She’s relaxed, chatty, unguarded and delightfully quick to laugh.Long gone is the bling of her “ghetto fabulous” years (“the furs and the hats and the earrings and the wigs,” she says with a chuckle, swirling her hands around her head and shoulders), replaced by a subtly sexy style.
In the past, she has been known for her raw, openly autobiographical songs – which helped sell more than 50 million albums over her 22-year career – but she also has a fierce reputation.
She’s known for truculent, diva-ish demands of white flowers and hellishly hot hotel rooms.
Maybe women feel that because girls have a head start on maturity back in the seventh grade, our emotional and spiritual equals must forever be at least five years older than we are.
Whatever part of the conventional wisdom they buy into, American women find it easy to summarily reject younger men. They could be denying themselves the most wonderful relationship of their lives.
Parties, rock concerts, nightclubs—I dated the way I should have when I was younger: for fun, without an eye toward marriage.
The nine-time Grammy award-winning queen of hip-hop soul is recounting the moment, 13 years ago, when she almost lost it all, mired so deeply in drink and drug addiction that she feared not just for her health, but also her life.
She is dressed in a black leather jacket (“Gucci; really old”) and burgundy Rag & Bone jodhpurs, with a natty pair of zebra-print slippers.
Her hair is short, blonde and coiffed, and her only jewellery is the large rock on her ring finger.
“Something really amazing is happening over in London,” she says.
“Genres are falling and people are borrowing from the past instead of throwing it away.
“The goal was to go over to London and do something really different, something people have never seen me do before,” Blige explains.