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Madonna Interview : NME (March 07 1998)

Madonna - NME / March 07 1998

Heck! Who’s that girl ? It can’t possibly be Madonna! ‘Cos the most fabulous famous female superstar in the history of pop wouldn’t be seen dead wearing a blanker… or talking about ‘spiritual enlightenment’… or singing a track from her new album, ‘Ray Of Light’, entirely in Sanskrit, er, would she?!! Mads for it: Sylvia Patterson (words)

“You’ll have to excuse me, I’m wearing my blanket.”
The most fabulous female superstar in the history of popular music strolls, smiling, into the vast, antique drawing room known as The Piano Suite, Room 312, in London’s Claridges Hotel, swathed in what appears to be a lenght of carpet; a huge, thick and shapeless persian rug, perhaps, in shades of pink and gold and blue-
It could well be some priceless, rehal robe hewn from the diamond spindle of a Siamese countess in 1812, but the description “blanket” accurately reflects the mind-set of the person engulfed beneath it. The hair is unwashed and black-rooted, an oily centre-parting pulled severely into two strawberry-blonde milk-maid’s pleats tied at the ends with elastic bands. She is wearing no male-up. Her eyebrows are thin, as are the lips. She looks every one of her 39 years.
From within the fabric’s folds, bare legs and arms poke out, whitely, from a kneee-lenght black skirt and a sleeveless, clingy, black top. And her hands are splattered all over with the burnt-orange stains of one who has, surely, been tilling the earth. She does not shimmer with celebrity stardust and she does not smell of anything at all. This is Madonna, most fabulous female superstar in the history of pop music, in 1998. And she looks like a casualty newly staggered down from the Glastonbury healing fields at 7am after a three-day acid trip bender wrapped in a purchase from Joe bananas’ blanket emporium. NME, who bought a new super-thick mascara and polished its boots for the occasion and everything, feels, in comparison, like an over made-up tart. And is in a catatonic state contemplating the ignominy of it all… she cannot be a hippy, not Madonna, not Pop’s Big Sister, not she who is Pop Culture Itself… impostor! When Madonna begins to speak, it is in a calm, deliberate, almost British-tinged, far less nasal voice than the one we’ve known for a lifetime.
“What does your necklace say?” she says, lowering herself into a super-flumped backless sofa-seat and folding her arms in a matronly way.
Er, it’s my name in Arabic.
“And what is your name in Arabic?”
Urm… can’t pronounce it. Siffi or something.
“Oh. Well, that’s nice. Where are you from?”
(Becoming hysterical with the surrealness of it all) Never mind about me! You don’t look anything like ‘you’!
“Hmmmn,” says Madonna and nods, patiently, breaking into the legendary gap-toothed grin of cheek and profound good cheer whereby you realise, yes, it’s really, really her alright.
Does that sound like a really weird thing to say ?
“Yes, it does.”
What do people see when they look at you ?
“When people look at me,” says Madonna, evenly, “they see themselves.”
And with that, the hotel fire alarm pierces through the walls for 20 deafening seconds.

Princess Diana was, as Madonna said herself, “the only person who had it worse than me”. In the two weeks immediately after Diana’s death Madonna could walk, unharassed, through Central Park with her beloved baby: “More freedom than I’d had in ten years.” Today, in Britain, where once, like Diana, she’d be ‘hunted’ through hyde Park by tabloid reporters on her madatory morning jog, there are 20 politely curious fans below her Mayfair hotel window, three policemen and one overexcited pop fan reporter from NME.
Madonna’s is the terminal sort of fame which can never be deminished, though certainly she is far rell infamous than at any other time in her near-15-year career. fifteen years as the sociosexual revolutionary pop vamp freedom fighter for equality and the expression of the sexual and spiritual self. Perpetrator of a thousand peerless, iconographic images of the late-20th century from disco-goth troll to conical-brassiered superwoman to irredeemably sensational beauty (for ‘Vogue’, the greatest pop video ever made). And, while we’re at it’, simulator of masturbation in front of the Vatican while simultaneously being fondled by several beautiful young men of nil-disguised homosexual persuasion. And, let us never forget, creator of some of the most inspirational and joyous pop music the world has ever known.
In the late-’90s she hasn’t taken all her clothes off, bothered The Pope or ‘blown’ a bottle for years. In the past three years, she redeemed (critically, for unfathomable reasons) a spectacularly faided cinematic career through Andrew Lloyd Webber’s frankly bloody awful Evita and its celebration of mawkish melodrama with no speaky bits in and Jimmy Nail and veered, terrifyingly, towards the barren wasteland of power-balladeering occupied by the Devil’s own shower-singin’ trinity, ie, Mariah, Whitney and (choke) Celine Dion.
Thankfully, she now appears to have that lot out of her system and brings us ‘Ray Of Light’, a dazzling space-pop album of late-’90s dub-trance dreamscape atmospherics, easily her best of this decase and co-written, mostly, by ‘Justify My Love’ remix boffin, William orbit. In parts it could be a British trip-hop album, features fiddling by Massive Attack’s strong arranger Craig Armstrong and shimmers throughout with the ochre threads of the east, which it would do, seeing as it’s all about, erk, “spiritual enlightenment”. If it is the very essence of post-rock clubland cool (Britannia Division), William Orbit assures us there was nil calculation to make it sound as such.
“Calculated is very much the wrong word,” he notes. “We listened to very little outside music, in fact I’d mention something and she’d say, ‘I don’t want to hear it!'”

And Madonna’s trying to tell us all about it but keeps loosing the plot and going on about her “journey” instead.
We are witnessing here new translations of the oldest story ever told, the one which tells you money can’t buy you love and love is the answer and madonna, of course, knows everything there is to know about just what it is that money can buy you. It’s atale intrinsic to pop’s own folklore, as old as the gnarly old tree which fashioned the first sitar ever bought by George Harrison and pals in 1642. And she believes, like all the other millions of pop culture soothsayin’ evangelists of recent times, that this denotes a shift in the global conscience (oh yes) triggered by the twin turrets of millennium madness and the technological revolution which has turned us into socially crippled gerbils sat in isolation in a hutch with electodes stuck in our eyes. it’s the most popular cultural theory currently pertaining to life on Earth and the reason everyone’s gone all introspective and/or turned into a Buddhist. Another theory is that, when you get old, you a bit ‘what’s it all about, man?’ about everything and it’s as simple as that, yes?
“It’s a combination, I think,” says the woman under the rug, maintaining steady eye contact with those astonishing, blinkless, pale blue peppers, “of growing older and coming out of spending a decade or two just having good time and searching for fun and at a certain point a lot of people do go, ‘Well, there must be more that this, I’m on this Earth for more than making money and being successful’.”
You old chum Prince was saying the same thing fairly recently. Is this the conceit of the superstar? That they say “all that I’ve done means nothing” only when they’ve done it all?
“No,” says Madonna, “I can’t speak for other people but I can say that i’ve reached where I am right now because I realise I haven’t done anything.”
Good Lord.
“The things I’ve been consuming myself with is actually not doing it all,” she attests. “I’m just beginning to have the things that I really need and beginning to have thing that are really important, which is intimacy and love and children and things like that, those are the important things. the other things, exhibitionism, all of those things are not nothing, they’re… fantastic expressions, manifestations of loneliness or despair or curiosity, but ultimately they never take the place of the really important things. So when you have a lot of that other stuff, fame, fortune, celebrity, whatever, and you get tons and tons and tons of it and you realise ultimately that it isn’t going to make you happy then you do say, “Well, hold on then, there’s got to be something more to this’ so you go off on a search. I’ve been in this business and been famous for almost 15 years and I have Done what everyone else consideres to be It All; travelled everywhere, met everyone, I’m rich, I can do what I want, go where I want, but the thing is when you have excessive amounts of material things lots of times thats when you come to the realisation that that’s not what really matters at all.”
Hmmmmn. Funny how people always say money doesn’t matter…
“When they have a lot of it?””
Yes. And they say “love is all you need” only because they’ve got literally everything else.
“Well, I disagree with that,” states Madonna, “because I know lots of people who have very little and I consider them to be great, dignified people who are very happy with where they are. It’s an individual thing. I’m not saying that money doesn’t matter… (breaks out into huge grin, arches famed eyebrows, camply) it’s afforded me many luxuries and I’m quite fond of it… so, not at all! It’s really the being famous part, youknowwhatImean, the being chased down the street and having everyone write about you and think that they know yoi, it does become a huge burden, personally and creatively. I could never go as far as Prince and say, ‘I’m not who I was’, I am who I am and everything I’ve gone through has brought me to where I am right now, which I think is a good place. So I’ve got no intentions of renouncing my past. I’ve said stupid things and had horrible hairdos and made a fool of myself but that’s part of life and it’s just me revealing myself and getting closer to what I think is the real version of me. So.”
This latest real version of Madonna hasn’t, in fact, been tilling the earth at all, but has splattered all over her hands the markings of faded henna and a palm embiazoned with the Sanskrit squiggle for ‘Om’ (which she pronounces “ome”). She tells many detailed stories behind the origins of these markings because this version of Madonna has become a student of Eastern cultures, attending classes of Eastern cultures, attending classes in Los Angeles to study the Jewish kabbala (the red string round her left wrist denotes kinship for the kabbala’s principles of “friendship, spirituality and knowledge”) and private tutorings in Hinduism, the philosophy of karmic rebirth.
Every day she devotes two hours to yoga class, the motivation for which is probably not the mysteries of tantic sex (even though she can now put her feet round the back of her head like Sting can, probably). Her hennaed hands appear in the video for her new single ‘Frozen’, a tale of spiritual inertia and one of the less striking songs on the album, accompanied by the black-and-white “desert metamorphosis” video caper which would like to be The Piano and is, instead, an advertisement for Scottish Widows. More intriguingly, there is one song, ‘Shanti/Ashtangi’ sung entirely in Sanskrit. And we remember when it was all sans skirt round ‘ere…

There are girls the world over who’ve split up with boyfriends specifically because the boyfriend loathed their beloved Madonna (for being “a slag”, usually). There are boys the worl over who believe their girlfriend’s slept with other people behind their backs because Madonna encouraged them to do so in the name of sexual liberation. hers is the kind of phenomenon friendships are formed or founder on. There are entire books devoted to the analysis of dreams the public have had about Madonna. Her face is probably more familiar to you than half the members of your own family. Certainly you’ll know more intimate details about her life than many of your friends; what she thinks about masturbating, for example, or how much, at aged six, the death of her mother formed her personality, or that she was raped not long after arriving in New York, aged 18, with a handful of dollar bills and a dream to dance.
She is notoriously defensive, often aggressive interviewee as befits a woman who has deliberately provoked outrage for political purposes, most notoriously through what she felt was her “self-empowering” soft-porn fantasy Sex book which she now sees as “a rebellion” against her father, the Catholic relgion and the upbringing which told her trousers with zips on the front were sinful. She’s as demonised as a “no-talent nymphomaniac” as adored for her stand against double standards and ignorance, for her courage and honesty and tunes and frocks and icalculably glorious collection of world-class art. Today, she seems determined to remain calm at all times; or perhaps she’s become naturally so. Her voice is raised only once; in response to the half-formed non-question “Do you resent…” “I don’t resent ANYTHING”, she blares.
Each word ittered is well considered. When she feels an answer is sufficient, she stops and says nothing. So, what do we want to know about this most ruthlessly scrutinised of modern lives? What do you ask the women who’s been asked everything?
Did you eat the placenta?
“…” gasps Madonna, inwardly, and it’s a fantastic face; the lips come apart, the eyes drop to the floor. She is 100 percent speech-free and flummoxed.
You think that’s disgusting, don’t you ?
“I do think it’s disgusting!” she howls.
“I’ve heard of people doing it but I’m not one of those people.”
There was a programme on telly only the other week where a family ate the new baby’s placenta in the form of pate.
“Uh!” chokes Madonna, her hands now fly up her face. “Well, it’s possible!”
And before they cooked it and pulped it it looked like a gigantic liver.
“Ahahahaah!” she guffaws, in the legendary filthsome cackle. “Nooooo! Uuuh! There are certain things your body just gets RID OF!”
Madonna ’98; not that much of an Earth Mother after all, then. Hurrah!

Madonna - NME / March 07 1998

Lourdes Maria Ciccone Leon was born in October ’96 during the relationship Madonna had with her personal trainer, Carlos Leon, a sort of superhunk Mr Motivator. The world must ask ‘why him?’ and Madonna must steel herself, visibly stiffening, with this preprepared answer.
“Well… first of all…” she begins, “I’m not going to dishonour… I had a truly meaningful relationship with Carlos. And I don’t want to talk about my relationship with him nor do I want to talk about my relationship with anyone that I’ve had because I feel like talking about it trivialises it. For people who make the assumption that I chose him to be like my sperm donor I feel is so insulting.”
I agree and that’s not what’s being said here, what’s being said is: why him? He’s Lourdes’s Dad; that’s a Big Deal.
“Well, yeah, but that’s life,” she counters, ” you meet people, you fall in love with them, you decide to have a child, but you can’t predict the future. It’s sad, it’s not a perfect, ideal situation,it’s much better for a family to be whole but, y’know, you have to be true to yourself and have to be happy and if a situation is better one way than the other then that’s the way to go. I mean, my being famous is never going to make it easier to be a parent, I have the same questions and fears and problems that any parent has and it’s always easier when there’s two people. But I have nothing to complain about, I have great friends, brothers and sisters, a great support system and Carlos is very much a part of her life, so i don’t feel she’s being deprived of anything.”
She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?
“Oh!” blinks Madonna and looks genuinely startled, perhaps at someone actually saying something positive about her child for once. “Hmmihih! Thanks. Yep. She’s a beauty.”
NME has a chum who says having a child is the greatest contraceptive ever invented. Have you ever been… entertaining a gentleman caller and been rudely interrupted?
“Hmmm… yeah,” she splutters, “to a certain extent! But everything changes, not just that, your priorities, your business life, your relationship with your friends, everything takes a back seat.”
Is this the best thing that’s ever happened to you?
(Immediately and huskily) “Yes. Absolutely.”

Three things Madonna might like to take full responsibility for:
1. The 1980s
(Slightly appalled) “I take full responsibility for anything I may have said or done, but everyone else. (Theatrically) A am only responsible for myself!”
2. Causing an entire generation to become addicted to the gymnasium treadmill in the name of having fab monkey-nut top of arms a bit like what you’ve got (to absolutely nil avail).
“Well, the thing about that is I have these naaturally (Fondles arms of legend). I don’t work out any more and they’re still there.”
Pardon? You don’t do the gym any more AT ALL?
“No, I have my yoga class.”
3. Causing a generation to believe it was in no way having enough or as exciting sex as it should have been.
“It’s not ‘cos of me (Bellows with mirth)! I wasn’t having nearly as much sex as I was talking about. I can assure you. Hahahahaha”

When madonna thinks of the mouthy, petulant, woman in the superb In Bed With Madonna documentary she feels like “patting her on the head and saying ‘There there… of course you feel that way’. I feel like that’s my silly little sister.” During Evita she “learned how to sing”, which she knows is a preposterous thing for a singer to say “but you could wake up one morning after living some 30 years and say, ‘Well, I’m just learning how to be a human being’.” She feels much of what used to upset her was “sooooo petty”. So many things seem petty to her now.
“It’s so weird,” she’s saying, “because i’d been exposed to these things before, people were always trying to get me interested in this and that and giving me books to read and saying, ‘You must meet this person’ but I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to hear it, wasn’t ready to listen, didn’t want to sit still, didn’t want a moment of stilness. And when you have a baby, you’ve got to give it up. Especially if you’re breast-feeding, it’s not about your shedule, it’s not about your life. I still have my moments of panic, believe me, but I feel like I’m looking at life through a completely different set of eyes.”
Two questions to check the all-new, low-simmer Madonna temper gauge:
How did you feel when Liam Prodigy refused to work on your album saying it’d be like “selling our souls to the Devil”.
“Tough luck for him!” she hoots. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing. I think his reactions are typical. Partly it’s because he’s a boy, partly the fact there’s this elitist attitude that a lot of punk rockers or underground, cutting-edge musical groups have, groups who think they are, that they can’t be associated with someone who’s, quote unquote, ‘a pop star’; somehow it’s going to demean what you do. It’s just a very immature response and perspective and I would expect nothing less (grins). it didn’t surprise me and the only unfortunate thing is now I’m constantly asked what I think about it. I’m sure Liam is regretting he ever said it, too, because everyone will be asking him.”
And at the end of the day, you’re still the boss though, right?
“Yeah, but they still do whatever they want.”
You got a live one there, didn’t you?
“Yes. And that’s alright. I still like them! They can say all the bad things they want to say. They’re supposed to say bad things, they’re the Prodigy.”
The Verve, apparently, refused to let you visit them backstage at their New York show because they have no truck with celebrity liggers.
“Actually, I was meant to go and see The Verve but I got really sick and I never went out,” she breetes. “My friend was quite angry with me, actually. So what was that rumour? That they didn’t let the famous people in? Typical.”
I thought you hated rawk anyway – haven’t you always said you couldn’t relate to it because it’s “too male”?
“Well, you may have heard I said it, but I don’t think I said it,” she snorts. “I have always been more interested in dance, funk, R&B and hip-hop, that’s more my area of expertise, but I grew up listening to Led Zeppelin and there’s a lot of rock music that i really like.”
Ver bleedin’ ZEPPELIN? YOU?
“Well, yeah!” she booms, “and as soon as I heard The Verve’s album I went ballistic. I think I played ‘Bitter Sweet Simphony’ so much I made poor William Orbit puke at one point. Then everyone else discovered them and I couldn’t bear to listen to them any more. That always happens, doesn’t it? You really like something and it becomes really popular and you’re like, ‘Uch! I just wanted to have them all by myself! they’re my band!”
It’s getting worse by the second, Madonna, it’s turning out, is the sort of indie sadster who’d write in to Angst.

Sometimes Madonna can stand outside herself and see her own fame as a detached entity. She once said it’s like a great big huge pet she carries around with her everywhere but doubt it’s like Jimmy Stewart’s Harvey.
“I don’t know if it’s that friendly,” she snorts, “fame is what everyone else puts on you, it’s their own fantasy, nothing to do with me at all. Fascinating, really.”
Yes. For example, I can look at you and say ‘You are Pop Culture Itself’.
“Hmmmn.”
I could even say you are the late-20th century.
“Mmmmn.” (Rueful grin)
And it would be true.
“Yeah!”
Well, that’s bonkers.
“Mnihahahahah!” honks Madonna. “Well that’s a nice word. Bonkers. Well it is. It’s very big and it’s very small. That’s what ‘Ray Of Light’ is about, the song (possibly the second single, fantastic discotronic anthem of supernatural joyousness), about how small I feel in the big picture, but then how big everything feels, too, and how life seems to be going by faster than the speed of light and yet if you get outside of yourself and become your own witness you can also stop it. I mean, don’t you sometimes stop and go… (lean forward and enguifs leg in arms) don’t you feel hyper aware of who you are in the moment? And then think, ‘God, I’m me inhabiting my flesh and bones, saying my words, breathing the air that I breathe but you’re also outside of it and thinking, ‘But why? Why am I me? Why… why… what is my place here?’ YouknowwhatImean? Well, that happens to me all the time.”
Hmmn. Just as well you’ve never developed an enormous mind-meltin’ drug habit, eh?
“Ah… eheheheh… Yeah, I think it’s best that I didn’t, I must say. I don’t think I would have been around for very long if I did. A couple of cocktails is about all I can handle.”
At this point, Madonna appears to be around 14 years old. it’s bizarre, she seems so lkaate to these ideas, ideas of insignificance and big pictures, the existentialist adolescent lather, ideas which saw, for example, Richard Ashcroft as a very young boy walking around his hometown with his eyebrows twirling uo storm wondering, “Why Wigan? Why Pemberton?? WHY???” Maybe we’re to take her literally; she really has spent a lifetime being far too busy thinking about all that other stuff.
You’re the Henry Rollins of pop, really, aren’t you?
“You’re the second person that’s brought his name up in my interviews here,” she blinks. “Interesting, I know him. He’s really great. Brilliant, actually. His mind works at the speed of light (hears a rattle, becomes distracted). What’s that noise? The spirit of Henry Rollins is in the room! Well, I have been accused of being a workaholic but at least i’m being productive with my madness.”
Henry Rollins admits his work ethis is an emotional cover-up. ‘I do all this work stuff over here… because I don’t want to deal with all this sould stuff over here… ‘cos it’s too painful.’
“Well, yeah, and I think we all do that,” nods Madonna, “everyone has their own way of being destructive or hiding from the truth. But it helps to be aware of it. And then some day you do have to face it, take care of it.”
When d’you think that day will come?
“For me? I think I’m doing it right now.”
It’s a ‘demons’ thing, see, and the time has come for Madonna to finally “stop running away from certain things”. It’s essential now to break “the cycle” of the mistakes her parents made, specificaly because she wants to practise what she preaches and love Lourdes in a “healthy way”.
Was the birth of lourdes the first time someone else was controlling you?
“Definitely.”
The whole album is about relinquishing control, isn’t it?
“Yes, from beginning to end,” she declares, “from letting go of the idea that fame is going to make you happy to facing death. And that’s a great liberating moment, to suddenly realise that it’s OK when you’re not in control of everything. And… I’ve been struggling with that for years.”
Why has the idea of losing control always been so terrifying to you?
“Because I grew up without a mother,” says Madonna, as you may have expected. NME may be overcome with melodrama here, but this woman quite suddenly looks eerily, desperately alone. Maybe it’s because when she’s sitting in front of you, you don’t see the fantasy any more; you have to face the fact that Madonna is just a human being, that she’s just like everyone else. Which, for a pop fan, is an unspeakable horror. Black depression ensues.
“When my mother died,” she continues, “I felt like my world was out of control. A child always looks to their mother and suddenly I didn’t have that, I had eight brothers and sisters and my father could hardly be that for all of us. I’ve probably spent the majority of my life trying to control every other aspect. So I became an excellent student and a really hard worker, very ambitious and success-oriented.”
A million people lose their mother in childhood, though, but there are not a million Madonnas. There’s only the one.
“Well…” muses Madonna, “well… somebody had to do it! Somebody had to be me! This is my karma, who I am, what I’ve done, and everyone’s here for their own purpose. I know that sounds very Buddhist, but it’s true. I’m here doing this thing that I’m doing, but I certainly don’t think that I’m better than anybody else. Well… there probably was a time in my life when I did, y’know, think I was so special and whatever.”
You’d have been perfectly within your rights to believe you were the most fabulous superstar in the history of the universe, if you ask me.
“No!” shrieks Madonna. “I never believed that.”
Really?
“Never.”
Not even for one moment? Never even said it… just to see what it sounded like?
“Mmmm… brief glimpses of it, y’know,” she decides, “standing in soccer stadium with 120,000 people shouting your name… brief, brief, brief moments. But right after you feel like the most fabulous porson in the world you feel the most empty and lonely.”
Really? Almost simultaneously?
“Yes. Because whenever you feel like the most fabulous person in the world you’re only thinking of yourself. And it comes from a piece of ego and pride. And i think it’s really selfish perspective, it’s about taking, it’s not about giving, and it’s very… surface and very deceiving. Because the important things have nothing zo do with the things that you can see.”
NME’s bottom lip is now propelled outwards in a wounded huff. But, but, but… being a fantastic and inspirational and magical superstar pop persona is a FABULOUS thing to be!!!
“Well, yes,” soothes Madonna, “yes, it is fabulous.”
Hooray!
“I’m not saying there’s nothing to be gained from it,” she coos, “nothing to be learned from it, nothing to be enjoyed from it, because some of those artificial things are sometimes the most beautiful and there0s still truth in it and there’s still something of a person’s soul in it, but it’s a matter of perspective. Yeah, it’s fun and it’s a good time and a kick and all of those things in life, it’s as simple as that. Oh, hi, Mom!”
It’s the formidable spectre of Liz Rosenberg, Madonna’s US press agent shouting, “Five minutes, my children!” Forty-five minutes gone, several hundred thousand questions left unasked. So we must, in the spirit of the new Madonna, simply learn to let them go.
She doesn’t think about turning 40 or where she’ll be in five or ten years’ time “because I’m afraid if I concentrate too much on that I’ll miss my life as it’s happening to me”. She appeared on the National Lottera 48 hours after this meeting with an orchestra and the Scotting Widows outfit. Today, UK press woman Barbara hooted that the show which represents the very ethos of our ‘money is the answer’ culture was choosen because “we want a Number One single”. Madonna’s still thinking about buying a London home and may tour later this year, possibly in the autumn. She admits she’s in love but says no more and wishes for Lourdes only happiness and fulfilment. The famed beauty spot is gone and NME forgets to mention it, too busy arguing about Posh bleedin’ Spice.
I can’t believe you like Posh the best.
“Why? She’s so mysterious.”
Miserable, more like.
“Really? Well, that’s probably why I like her.” (Uproarious laughter from nearby Liz and Barbara)
Madonna: “I don’t think Posh seems like she’s miserable at all!”
Barbara: “She has a really cute boyfriend who’s a really great football player… and they’re engaged.”
Madonna: “Good on her! Well, she’s got no reason to be miserable. I always think she doesn’t spend as much time getting ready as everone else.”
I would’ve said the opposite..
Barbara: “She has great taste…”
Madonna: “Yes! That’s why I like her.”
barbara: “She said she wouldn’t have a baby until Guvvi do baby clothes…”
And one legendary Madonna arm shoots right up in the air in a very different sort of spiritual recognition.
“Yessss!” she declares, fist aloft in triumph. “Well, will you please tell Posh that Gucci do have baby outfits because Tom Ford (Mr Gucci) sent me several.”
Blimey, that’s Madonna, you know. We knew she’d show up, eventually.

© NME

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