Cherry Vanilla on Being a Punk Rock Icon, a Warhol Star, and Launching David Bowie’s Career
Blending sexual freedom, cutthroat honesty, and a voice that could electrify any crowd, Cherry Vanilla remains a trailblazing glam rock icon whose influence has reverberated far beyond the 1970s.
A native New Yorker, Cherry began her journey in the 1960s as a producer of radio and TV commercials while moonlighting as a DJ at clubs in Manhattan and on the French Riviera. Her entry into the avant-garde scene came when she joined Andy Warhol's transgressive play, Pork, where she performed alongside the iconoclastic Jayne County. It was this role that propelled her into the orbit of David Bowie, leading her to become his front-facing publicist during his historic Ziggy Stardust era.
In 1977, Cherry Vanilla relocated to London, integrating into the burgeoning punk rock scene. She formed Cherry Vanilla & Her Staten Island Band, which featured early members of The Police — Sting, Stewart Copeland, and Henry Padovani. Their debut single, "The Punk," released in 1977, and the subsequent album, Bad Girl (1978), received critical acclaim, becoming bold declarations of the rebellious spirit of the era.
But it’s with her explosive 2010 memoir, Lick Me: How I Became Cherry Vanilla, and the upcoming documentary on her life, Lick Me, directed and produced by S.E. King and Leah Judge, that Cherry offers the most unflinching looks into her life and career, providing uncut insights into her experiences in the music industry — and far and well beyond.
KP: Every time I speak to a native New Yorker for Noir – and you’re a fellow Irish New Yorker, I’m half Irish, half Italian – I can’t help but ask how you feel the city shaped you as a person or shaped your career. We are so fortunate to be from here, where anything and everything is possible, but particularly back then. It must have been so exciting.
CV: Well, I realized early on the difference between the lives that we were living in Queens and the lives that the wealthy and famous people were living in Manhattan. Funny though, I didn't feel jealous or deprived — I just kind of knew my place in our working-class Irish/German/Italian neighborhood and figured that I was lucky to have that. It felt comfortable enough to me. But because of my mom's and sister's show biz-related Manhattan jobs, I also had exposure to that glamorous, Copacabana, movie star, limousine lifestyle, which always felt so exciting. It all just seemed quite natural and balanced to me, a Libra. I knew that I had the down-to-earth working-class values, and also the sparkly parts.
KP: And playing off of that, you’ve had such an incredibly storied, versatile career – so much so that it’s both an incredible privilege and also overwhelming to speak to you about what you’ve done, in the best way!
CV: One day in Oklahoma I heard the incredible Chet Baker advising his kids that if they wanted to succeed in life, they should zero in on one skill and then be better at it than anyone else — not me! I wanted a little taste of many things. I wanted to play many different roles, both on-stage and off. I wanted to have many different experiences, many different stories to tell. But please don't feel overwhelmed! Focus on any areas that you like.
KP: I love them all! But to simplify it, you’ve called yourself a “demystifier,” because “all [you] ever wanted to do was to find out what it felt like to be an advertising executive, to be a PR lady, to be a rockstar, to be a groupie… [You] just wanted to know what it felt like to be like them.”
CV: I’ve always felt the most exciting period in any career is the early part, the part where you are still so unsure of what to do and still questioning if you’re doing it right. It's that scary, vulnerable period where your every action is still a total improv. You just put yourself out there, make a commitment, and pray that you can deliver. And when you do, ah, that elation! It’s a feeling like you just got away with something that maybe you weren't even quite ready for yet. And when you don't deliver… Well, to bomb always hurts, but it surely is how you learn.
KP: I couldn’t agree with you more. I started my career as a print magazine editor at fourteen — I knew nothing! Beyond nothing! I learned the ropes as I went and failed a lot, but that’s the best way to learn, right?
So as someone who has also worn many hats throughout her career, I can totally relate to these sentiments, but I have to ask — did you ever have a favorite role? Did one thing that you ever did just completely fill you with passion, more so than anything else?
CV: There are sound-out moments from all of the phases I've lived through. My favorite thing camaraderie-wise would have to be stage acting. I love taking on a character and story with a group of other actors, facing the challenges and rewards of our interactions, creating an energy and connection with each other, as well as with the audience. But then again, there are those rare moments in rock and roll where the band is cooking, the monitors are working, the amps aren't buzzing, and everything just seems so in the pocket, so easy, like you're flying. But, you know, I've always felt an intense sense of elation at the completion of anything I commit to deliver on — be it an aftershave commercial, a Bowie press release, or even an interview like this.
When Louie Lepore and I were co-writers, lovers, and bandmates, I always adored that tender blush-making moment when he would play me our latest collaboration for the first time. Hearing how he interpreted and combined my lyrics with his music just thrilled me to pieces. It gave me chills, ranked right up there with our sex life, and beyond.
So to answer your question in a word, I would have to say "performing." That's what always gave me the biggest rush — especially performing on stage.
KP: Speaking of Bowie press releases, you worked very closely with both David Bowie and Andy Warhol, being the former’s formidable PR, leading him through his Ziggy Stardust era, and the latter’s leading star in Pork.
Is there anything about them or any stories that you’d care to share? Do you feel that there are common misconceptions about them that you find incorrect?
CV: I think it's a lot like Rashomon, you know? Where several people experience the same event, but each comes away with a different tale to tell. I mean, I have heard fellow Warhol stars complain that Andy would sometimes leave them in the lurch for their rent, making him sound cheap and uncaring. But I, for one, never depended on Andy to pay my rent. I had a more professional relationship with him right from the start. And I had a Madison Avenue advertising background that he was interested in. Because of Andy, I was able to join the union and collect a proper Actor's Equity salary for Pork. And he also provided Pork's American cast members with a wonderful, sprawling flat in London's Earl’s Court area. So, in my eyes, there was nothing cheap or uncaring about him. I enjoyed entertaining him with tales of the sexual trysts that I was having with the young artists, musicians, and models of the day. He liked hearing about kissing, skin texture, penis size, and such. But we also had some interesting exchanges about the all-girls Catholic high school that I attended, and the cost of buying airtime on network TV.
Bowie — as far as rock stars go, he was a surprisingly easy one to please. For those of us who comprised his management company, MainMan, he was very trusting due to our devotion to him, our self-imposed mission to make him the most important rock and roll star in the world, and our methods of getting him there. I never remember him chastising us for something we had done that didn't go quite right. He let us use our own judgment in most situations, and we easily moved on from any mistakes that we may have made. He had a clear and specific idea of what he wanted, but he was never a diva about getting it. He was actually a really nice guy — nice to do business with, nice to hang out with, and nice to have sex with. We at MainMan were all in love with him, of course. You almost had to be to put in the amount of time and effort that we did in order to properly introduce him to the world.
KP: I could only imagine! What an undertaking.
You’ve said that you attribute much of your career to fate and luck, but some would argue that we create our own luck by working hard and creating opportunities for ourselves.
What are the best ways that you think women can make their own luck and create their own opportunities? For example, can that be found more by networking? Not fearing rejection? Having the confidence in yourself to try new things? Following your intuition?
CV: It’s some kind of alchemy for sure. So many elements must come together at just the right time. I mean, you could work your ass off but still be unlucky. I used creative visualization a lot. You just keep imagining yourself in the situation that you want to be in — and if you're lucky, and if you work hard enough, the situation may manifest. I guess you kind of have to believe in magic for that one. I think that women should use everything they've got in order to create opportunities, including the beauty and the sex appeal that God gave them.
Networking? Oh man, we didn't use that term when I was young! And we didn't have social media back then either. But we worked in offices, shops, and theaters, and made friends with the people that we encountered there. We also buddied up to nightclub owners, restaurateurs, limo drivers, roadies, and such. So, I guess that was networking back then. The thing is, it just seemed like friendliness to us. “Networking” often comes across to me now as some all-too-obvious social-climbing star-fucker thing, having little to do with real friendship. But maybe that's more honest in a way — I guess we all want to make the best connections.
KP: I agree with you wholeheartedly on that. I am the worst “networker,” and to be honest, I don’t ever want to be a good one! I’ve never social climbed, never wanted to. That’s the genuine New Yorker in us! My favorite people are almost all people that I’ve met outside of the industry.
CV: Most of the friends that I collected over my lifetime were not yet rich, famous, or powerful when I first met them. So I never felt that I was seeking them out for their ability to open social doors for me or to advance my career. I always felt that it was a chemical thing — I was either attracted to someone or not. And that was usually based on their kindness, sense of humor, and generosity of spirit. I simply followed my heart and my instincts, and I made a lot of good choices. Everything else that you mention about rejection, confidence, adventurousness, and intuition remains as important as ever.
“It takes pure truth and love to make magic. It takes passion and energy to not lose hope.”
KP: You formed your first band in 1974 and were later signed to RCA in 1977, where The Police were your musicians – it was your concert, actually, where they would play their first live gig together.
CV: In 1976, Stuart Copeland’s agent brother, Miles, caught a show of mine in NYC and made an offer to book me for gigs in Europe and the UK, provided that I would get myself, Louie (guitar), and Zecca (Esquibel, keyboards) over there, would employ Stuart and Sting as my rhythm section, and would have The Police be my opening act. So, in February of 1977, I took Miles up on it, sold almost everything that I owned, and relocated to London. It was an extremely difficult first few months there — sleeping on cold stone floors, traveling in a van with a broken heater, and then finding myself pregnant on top of it all. But by year's end I had a two-album deal with RCA, the abortion (somewhat) behind me, and a whole lot of publicity, both good and bad. And yes, Stewart, Sting, and guitarist Henry Padovani played their first professional gig as The Police at Alexander's in Wales on March 1st, 1977. It was my first rock and roll gig in the UK, and they were my opening act.
KP: What was it like recording those two albums in London?
CV: Well, I didn’t hire The Police on my albums. I mostly used a combination of Louie, Zecca, the New York band members that I'd left behind, and some UK studio musicians. Bad Girl we recorded at AIR London, with Phil McDonald — who was famous for his work with the Beatles — engineering. Phil was drunk most of the time, but my ineptness and insecurity when it came to studio recording probably drove him to it. My producer, Andrew Hoy, and Louie were fighting a lot about the music. We could never find pot, only hash, and the tobacco the English mixed with it made me feel dizzy and sick. Plus I was often in tears over my bum notes and pitch problems.
Venus d'Vinyl we made at a sleepover studio in the English village of Chipping Norton. That proved to be a better experience in that we could have stay-over guests there, with communal meals prepared to our liking, and go into the studio any time of the day or night. It was a nice social time to hang with the musicians and a few of our close UK friends. I was less upset than I had been on Bad Girl, both about my vocal shortcomings and about aborting Louie's baby — he was twenty-one and adamantly refused to take on the responsibility of fatherhood.
There was an unfortunate kind of futility that hung over Venus though, because we were well aware by then that RCA UK was not going to properly promote it and — a la Bad Girl— not even going to distribute it in America, never mind that they were contractually obligated to do so. And yet, neither would they release me from the label, not until I delivered them the tracks. So, we recorded some very un-hip little ditties on that album, including a kind of hymn — “The Round Dance” — and a couple of tracks that sounded like disco demos. It's a shame in a way, because we inadvertently sabotaged a few fab post-punk tracks on that album, like “Amanda,” “Moonlight,” “The Young Boys,” and “You Belong To Me.”
KP: I understood why you did it, though! Label horror stories are a dime a dozen.
You were well known for your bold and brash sexuality, something that was still quite shocking for women to command in the 70s. Did you ever feel judged as a woman for your candid nature, or do you feel that it worked to your advantage?
CV: I’m not really sure just how “in command” I ever was. I mean, the truth is that I was very insecure about my body and my lack of academic knowledge. But in a way, I think it may have been that very curious child naiveté of mine that helped me bash right through doors that I didn't even realize I was bashing through. I often pictured myself as a character in a Doris Day movie, cast in a role and career considered rare and glamorous for a woman, like, say, a Madison Avenue ad exec or a commercial airline pilot. I gave a lot of thought to how I would play such a part, how I would walk, talk, do my hair, and what I would wear. And then I would look for a job where I could become that character, and I would direct myself in the role accordingly. By innocently believing that my performance was coming off just as real to those around me as it was to me, I was able to step out of my shy Irish Catholic persona and present myself as the smart, sexy, straight-talking dream girl that people are naturally drawn to — especially men. And, as you know from watching Mad Men, ninety-nine percent of the Madison Avenue ad execs back then were men. I guess I was actually always performing in a way, on-stage and off. But, to me, there was no dishonesty in that. At the core, I was always living my own truth. But packaged within a certain character, I could make myself into a much more colorful and fearless ad ex, DJ, rock star, or whatever. I never got around to the airline pilot role. Just as well, I'm sure.
KP: [Laughs]. Yes, stay on the ground!
You’ve said of your music that you were “really, honestly earnestly singing the best [you] could. But [you weren’t] a great singer – [you] knew it. But with all honesty, [you were] having the best time and doing the best [you] could.”
Similarly, you had no experience in PR before you were saddled with the responsibility of launching David Bowie’s career for his Ziggy Stardust era, which turned out to be one of the biggest rock launches of all time – it’s wild to think about.
In my opinion, a lot of women have the propensity to shy away from trying things that they don’t feel they’re experts at, while on the other hand, men tend to overestimate their abilities and give everything a chance – with audacity to boot.
CV: Ah, yes! Men and their confidence. It's only after many, many years of life that you realize just how thin-skinned that confidence really is. It kind of makes you want to love them even more.
KP: I definitely think we tend to be more honest with ourselves! So how did you find the strength to completely throw yourself into music, even if you didn’t feel you were the best? It ended up being a very well-deserved success for you, anyway! That’s a great lesson.
CV: Well, I knew that I wasn’t a great singer in the technical sense, but I believed that I'd be able to entertain an audience with the honest delivery of my own lyrics and a really good rock and roll band. Singing was something that I had to work at — and I was learning in front of the world — but storytelling and entertaining were things that had always come naturally to me. As a poet and a cabaret performer, I had already experienced the thrill of holding an audience captive with just my words and the sound of my speaking voice. So, I possessed a certain confidence in the idea that if the songs weren't working one night, I could maybe do some poetry, tell a story, or perhaps even conduct a Q&A with the audience instead. Luckily, it never came to that. Good thing, because the mohawked, nose-ringed, tattooed, saliva-spitting fans that we encountered on the road would probably have ripped us to shreds!
KP: [Laughs]. Fate was on your side!
Your memoir, Lick Me: How I Became Cherry Vanilla, which you published in 2010, is adored by so many. It’s a huge undertaking to write an autobiography. How did it come to be? What was your favorite part about taking it on?
CV: My friend, Pamela Des Barres, had interviewed me for her book on groupies, Let's Spend the Night Together, and her agent really liked my chapter. He encouraged me to write a book of my own and almost immediately got me a publishing deal with Chicago Review Press. I had a full-time job at the time, working as PR for Vangelis (Chariots of Fire, Blade Runner, etc.), and I was spending a lot of time with him in Greece. Of course, I had to make sure that Vangelis was always my main priority, but being the incredibly kind and generous man that he was, he allowed me lots of time to work on the book. Luckily, I had kept some rather loose diaries of my adventures during the 1960s and 70s, and sometimes just a line or two I had jotted down in them would help me to remember the details and the feeling of certain special moments. I also relied a lot on Tony Zanetta (MainMan's president, Warhol in Pork). Zee was not the major pothead that I was, so I often trusted his recollection of events more than I trusted my own — he was so generous with his help and suggestions. I would call him and bounce things off of him every couple of pages. It's really great to have an honest, intelligent friend like that when writing a book, especially one who has lived through so much of your story along with you.
My favorite part about taking on the book was, of course, the challenge. I wanted to carve yet one more notch in my multi-faceted career belt and truly earn the right to call myself a writer and an author. In fact, it's the “writer” label that's the most fitting and most important for me these days. I'm still working at it and still getting a sense of accomplishment from it. And I don't need a band, a crew, makeup, or a killer costume to do it. I thank God for the ability to entertain myself.
KP: May we all be so fortunate, right? You’ve said that tech bros are the new rockstars, and if you were still a groupie today, you’d probably be going for them, which gave me quite a laugh. They’re certainly not as cool – that’s for sure – but we’ve got what we’ve got. What can we do about it…
CV: Though I’ve dated some of the most beautiful men in the world, I have always had a thing for nerdy-looking guys, especially the brainiacs. And a lot of brainiac techies tend to be nerdy-looking. But I must admit that as far as sexual attraction (these days, only in my mind) goes, it's still musicians that I find most appealing, Hermanos Gutiérrez being my favorite heartthrobs of late — I love their music, and I love their style. I mean, I realize now that I am a total tech dummy, so what on earth would I have talked with Mark Zuckerberg about?
If I were a young groupie today, I'd like to think that I would be mostly turned on to the heroes among us, the firefighters, medics, organic farmers, holistic doctors, pro bono attorneys, social workers, and such. But, in truth, I'd probably still mostly be attracted to the musicians. Music speaks to me like no other medium on earth. And though I'm still waiting for a new great wave of protest songs, Hermanos Gutiérrez’s music doesn't even need lyrics for me — only their guitars and magic pedals. Matt Carmichael, another instrumental artist, also turns me on. These guys are communicating on my wavelength and can still be found amongst all of the overhyped, manufactured-for-the-masses products out there. We support them by buying their music, attending their shows, and telling our friends about them in whatever way we can, just like I'm doing here! And, okay, if I were a young, nubile groupie now, I'd probably also be dying to fuck them.
KP: Fair enough! [Laughs]. As a 31-year-old, I can’t help but already yearn for the world of seventeen years ago when I first started in the industry, so I can’t imagine how extraordinary thirty years prior to that must have been.
CV: Yes, I’m fifty years older than you, so I have seen more hopeful days. For me, it's always been about the music. And I wish that I could give you the gift of the totally organic, soul-fulfilling connection my friends and I had with the music back when. Today's chart-topper hits are mostly entertainment music and don't seem sufficiently reflective of the mess we are in. I'm not feeling that spiritual connection with it, where the pop music and the real-life situations are totally in tune. But maybe not even music can encompass and express the scope of all that reigns right now — maybe not even the next Bob Dylan or Jimi Hendrix would make a difference these days. I can only hope that today's youth is getting an intensity of connection from tech and AI, like we got from the music. I can only assume that they're finding their tribal sense of belonging on an iPhone or computer via Instagram or Facebook and from broadcasts like Pod Save America.
KP: It might be true for them, but it’s definitely not as sexy, that’s for sure! [Laughs]. Are you someone who believes that yesteryear was more magical, or are you a believer in the magic of every era and every day?
CV: I believe that the magic is always at hand, but even magic must be conjured and managed. It takes pure truth and love to make magic. It takes passion and energy to not lose hope. For my friends and me, yesterday was more magical, but that just may be because we were more naive then. We hadn't yet lost hope. We believed that it really was the Age of Aquarius dawning and that enlightenment was at hand. So, I think we were able to exist in a more blissful state back then — we were more excited about what we thought was coming than worried about what was coming to get us. But hey, it turns out we were just a bunch of psychedelic flower children with a dream — and the perfect songs to go with it.
Trump is such a killer of hope, but maybe his attitude and actions will cause a new revolution among today's youth. Maybe it's the same as it ever was. The center of their attention and source for connection has just shifted from music to tech. Whatever gets you through the night, right? But a TikTok post or text will never convey the message and magic of any era for me as succinctly as, say, Buffalo Springfield's 1966 classic, “For What It's Worth,” or Marvin Gaye's 1971 “What's Going On.” I can't say that there was more magic overall when I was young, but when it comes to the music, I can't help but feel that there actually was.
KP: There definitely was. What advice would you lend to women who seek to walk a path similar to yours? Is there anything you know now that you wish you knew then?
CV: Seek adventure while you’re young! Travel the world and be as independent as you can be. Don't get into the mindset of needing a man or a woman. If the right one comes along, great. If not, enjoy your freedom and don't waste your time looking for love. Love yourself and your body, and don't give either away cheaply. And don't compare yourself to anyone else. We are all unique, and we all have a path. Follow your heart, and don't be afraid of hard work. Many incredible artists struggle with basic survival needs their whole lives through. Know that it could also be the case for you. Know what it is you have to do.
KP: What do you feel makes a provocative woman?
CV: A provocative woman is one who is comfortable in her own skin. One who knows how to listen. One whose life is an open book but still holds the promise of some secrets. One who is more interested in the future than the past, unless you're talking about the twenty million years ago past. One who can tell you the names of the stars in the sky, as well as the young Hollywood stars on the rise. One who can whip up a great spaghetti bolognese in no time. One who leaves you wanting more at the end of an interview.
KP: Then you are a very provocative woman!
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Photography: Ray Stevenson
